The moment I realized I was pregnant, I knew I had a donor, not a father for my children. It was clear the responsibility would fall entirely on me, and I needed to determine whether to continue with the pregnancy. With the support of my late mother, who always believed in me and was ready to walk this path with me I chose to embrace motherhood. That was the moment I started preparing in every way possible. I worked extra shifts, cut back on unnecessary expenses, and saved diligently. My mom also gave me some money before she passed, which helped me provide for the twins once they arrived.
n my excitement, I made mistakes because I had no one to guide me. I purchased numerous baby products that proved to be irrelevant, simply because they looked appealing at the market. Still, when the time came, I managed to cover the hospital bills that ran into hundreds of thousands, and I felt a deep sense of pride in myself. For the naming ceremony, relatives and friends contributed money and gifts, and for a brief moment,I thought the path ahead would be easy.
Reality set in quickly. I had to pay people to stay with me and help with the babies because I was too weak to handle it alone. That financial burden, coupled with the psychological strain, weighed heavily on me. At times, I even faced subtle threats and emotional manipulation, with people suggesting my children could be taken away if I didn’t comply with their demands. I struggled with basic things figuring out how to handle breast milk leakage, using cut-up towels as pads, and learning the hard way that certain habits, like drinking cold water after surgery, could be harmful. The back pain from my surgery was so severe that bathing the twins was almost impossible unless I stood upright.
Eventually, I decided to hire a nanny, even though it meant a significant portion of my income would go to her. At least this gave me some control over how my children were cared for, and I could ensure they received the attention they deserved. To make ends meet, I sold my gold jewelry, used the money for food and toiletries, and when that ran out, I hustled harder. Some weekends, I would carry one child on my back while my helper carried the other as we searched for housecleaning jobs or opportunities to sew curtains for new homes. Every effort was about survival and ensuring my children lived with dignity.
Not everyone around me was supportive. One uncle told his daughter not to visit me because I wasn’t “a good role model” for having children outside of marriage. An aunt once called and hurled insults at me over something she assumed I posted on Facebook, even though it wasn’t directed at her at all. That day broke me—I cried bitterly, feeling betrayed by someone I once trusted enough to consider leaving my children with. Instead of offering love or support, she added to my pain. Those were the moments when despair pushed me toward suicidal thoughts, but somehow, I found the strength to keep going for my children.
Despite the hardships, God’s mercy showed up in countless ways. For more than ten years, my children never lacked clothes or shoes. Strangers, former students of my mother, and even online friends sent us boxes of items.I was truly moved by the kindness of people who were almost strangers to me. I fed my babies with what I had, introduced them to solids earlier than planned, and they adjusted. They were never fussy they simply accepted what life gave them. I saw God’s faithfulness in that.
When it came to schooling, I realized the importance of saving in advance. Once I paid for a school term, I immediately began setting money aside for the next. Still, there were moments when bills overwhelmed me, and I had no choice but to swallow my pride and ask strangers for help. I also picked up extra shifts and restarted my mother’s business to generate more income. I sacrificed parties, personal shopping, and luxuries for myself my children’s needs always came first.
I’ve been criticized for being antisocial, but social life doesn’t pay school fees or hospital bills. Every ounce of my energy has gone into giving my children the best life possible. Over the past decade, we’ve grown and survived through God’s grace. Whenever I faced financial trouble, unexpected help always came a phone call, a text, someone saying they felt led to support us. Even during health scares, God showed up in ways that gave me peace.
Through it all, I’ve been transparent with my children. They know how much money I have and what I plan to do with it. In them, I found the friends I could confide in. When they were younger, I read their responses in their smiles or tears. Now that they are older, we have honest conversations. I remind them that I am new to parenting, I may be learning as I move forward, but I give them this promise: with God’s help, we will not fail.
