She may not be his mother by birth, but every day he chooses her, and she chooses him right back. Two years ago, if you’d asked Sierra whether motherhood was around the corner, she would’ve laughed and said no. Not because she didn’t love kids, she works with children as a behavior analyst, but because life had taught her to expect otherwise. As a teen, she’d daydreamed about baby names and the magic of being called “mom.” Then reality stepped in.
At 20, during college softball season, Sierra was diagnosed with PCOS. The symptoms knocked her flat: painful cycles, nausea, wild weight changes, fatigue, and hair growth she didn’t want. Medications helped some things, but made her worry more about fertility. The dream of becoming a mom began to feel like something that belonged to other people. On top of that, she spent nearly six years in a relationship that chipped away at her worth. She was told not to speak unless spoken to. Affection had to be begged for. Her job was to earn, clean, and obey. When you’re treated as small long enough, you start to believe it. She wondered how she could ever raise a child with love when she was constantly told everything she did was wrong. It wasn’t true, but it took time to see that.
In July 2019, Sierra met Juan in a small studio on the east side of St. Louis. They stood outside talking about snacks, goals, music, and relationships that leave scars. They bumped into each other repeatedly, easy conversation each time, a spark neither of them pushed. She didn’t know he’d become home. Then March 2020 arrived, the pandemic, and a breaking point. Sierra started therapy to work through anxiety and old wounds. Six months later, she chose to try again. That summer, a simple message from the studio guy became a first hangout that stretched for hours, stories, creative projects, and laughter. They agreed to go slow. The following days made that almost impossible.
Soon, Juan asked Sierra to meet his two-year-old son, Emilio. He was just learning to talk, mainly in Spanish, curious and bright. Sierra had worked with many bilingual families; the language difference didn’t faze her. They went to the zoo, the new aquarium, Six Flags, and little adventures that stitched the three of them together. When Juan had to work out of town, Sierra and Emilio kept the thread. He’d sleep over sometimes, FaceTiming his dad from the couch. One day, the toddler started calling for attention by saying “hey,” and because Sierra always answered, “hey” became her name. It stuck, and so did they.
By the time Juan returned, Sierra knew she wanted more than feelings; she wanted a life with them. He asked her to be his girlfriend, and the doubts that used to roar softened to a whisper. For the first time, she felt chosen and safe. Life with Juan and Emilio changed Sierra’s picture of motherhood. She learned his bedtime likes and breakfast dislikes, the way his eyes lit up when something finally “clicked.” She wasn’t the one who carried him for nine months, but she was there for the growing and the learning, the giggles and tantrums, the quiet moments when a small body leans in because you are comfort. People asked, “Is he yours?” and “yes” came out without a second thought. Biology wasn’t the point; belonging was.
Sierra still wants to be a “real mommy” someday, and PCOS may still make the path uneven. But she no longer lives under the shadow of “never.” Loving Emilio showed her something she’d doubted for years: she is deeply maternal, steady, and worthy of love that doesn’t keep score. She’s the bonus mom who shows up. The friend who plays. The soft place for big feelings. The voice that says, “I’m proud of you.” The person who fills his belly, yes, but also his sense of being treasured.
There are imperfect days. She loses patience; he digs in. Then they laugh, apologize, and try again. That’s family. She can’t see her face in his features, but she sees herself in how he trusts the world, because someone trusted him right back. Ask Sierra now if motherhood is close, and she’ll smile. She’ll tell you about a boy who calls her “hey,” a partner who came back, and a life where love arrived in a shape she didn’t expect but needed most. She didn’t plan it this way, but when he slips and calls her “mom,” her heart answers first.
