"MEMORIES OF BEING A SINGLE MOTHER "

"MEMORIES OF BEING A SINGLE MOTHER"* They say it takes a village to raise a child. But nobody told me the village would be empty. I remember the first night I cried in the bathroom with the shower on, so she wouldn’t hear me. She was 3 months old, colic, and screaming. And I was 22, broke, and so tired my bones hurt. I whispered, "God, if You’re real, help me." And then I wiped my face, walked out, and became her whole world. Being a single mother means you are both the soft place and the strong wall. I was the one who bandaged scraped knees at 2am. I was also the one who said "no" to the ice cream and got the tantrum in the grocery line. I was the parent-teacher meeting, the nurse, the chef, the taxi driver, the bedtime story, and the prayer at night. I remember counting coins on the kitchen counter to see if we could afford milk and bread. Choosing between her school shoes and my transport for the week. Smiling at work while my phone was full of messages from the school: "Mum, please come. She has a fever." Leaving meetings early and praying nobody asked why. People ask, "Where is her dad?" I used to give long answers. Now I just say, "With us. In every way that matters." Because the truth is, she has never lacked love. She’s just had it all from one person. There were birthdays I celebrated with just balloons and cake from the corner shop. Graduations where I clapped the loudest because I was her whole audience. Nights I stayed up finishing her homework and my own work, running on faith and black tea. But here’s what they don’t tell you about being a single mother: You become unstoppable. You learn that "I can’t" is not in your vocabulary. You learn to fix a leaking tap with YouTube, to sew a button at midnight, to budget 10k for two weeks, and to be the safest hug in the room. My daughter watched me. She saw me fall and get up. She saw me cry and still pack her lunch. She saw me choose her, every single day. And now she’s the kindest, smartest, most grateful girl I know. She tells people, "My mum is my superhero." And I think: Baby, you are mine. To every single mother reading this: I see you. I see the silent sacrifices. The double shifts. The prayers. You are not "just" a single mother. You are a CEO, a warrior, a miracle. We did it. We are doing it. And one day our kids will tell our story, and the world will know: She was raised by a woman who refused to give up.