I read the story here of a single mum who said she didn’t know what to do and couldn’t see a way out, and it made me want to share my own experience—not to judge anyone, but because when you have children and are in need, you can’t just sit and wait for money to fall from the sky. No one gave me anything; I fought for it all myself.

I once read the story of a single mother here, saying she felt lost, unsure what to do, unable to see a way out. And it made me want to tell my own storynot to judge anyone, but because when you have children and need help, you can’t just sit and wait for money to drop from the sky. No one handed me anything. I fought for it myself.

I left home when I was sixteen. Out of stubbornness, out of youthful folly, thinking I was all grown-up and believing Id have a better life with my boyfriend. We moved into a tiny studio flat in Manchesterthe kitchen opened onto the lounge, the bedroom was separated with a thin wall, and the bathroom was outside in a small backyard. It wasnt glamorous, but it was ours. Two years later, just as I turned eighteen, I got pregnant with our first child. For a while, everything seemed normal. He drove a taxi, brought home just enough to cover the groceries, and we managed the rent. We never had any extras, but we didnt go hungry either.

When my son was nearly a year old, I started noticing he was bringing home less and less money. There was always an excusethe slow season, too much competition, the car breaking down. I believed him. Then I got pregnant againthis time with our daughter. I was four months along when he simply walked out. No warning, nothing. One day he came home, grabbed a few clothes, and left to be with another woman.

The worst pain wasnt that he left meit was everything that followed. Gossip flooded inneighbours, people from the estate, even relatives. They said theyd seen him with her for months, that she waited for him on street corners, that he slept at her place. No one told me anything while we were together. I learned all of it when I was already alone, pregnant, with a toddler in tow.

He disappeared completely. Never asked about the kids. Never gave a single poundeven for nappies. I sat on the floor and cried for an entire day. Stared at the nearly empty fridge, the milk running out, a second baby on the way, rent due soon, no clothes, no cot. I wept. But the next morning, I stood up and told myselfI couldnt go on like this.

I started right there in that flat. Ordered groceries on credit. Made jellies, desserts in cups, cupcakes. Took pictures with my phone and posted them on WhatsApp and Instagram. I didn’t lie. I wrote the truth: “Selling homemade desserts to buy nappies and milk.” People began to buysome out of sympathy, others because they liked them. With that money, I paid for food, saved a bit for rent, bought the basics.

Then I began cooking lunches to orderrice, lentil stew, chicken casserole, minced meat. A local man from the block delivered them on his scooter, I paid him for the ride. I got up at five every morning to cook, heavily pregnant, my little boy playing around my feet. Some days, I was so exhausted Id sit on the chair and quietly cry. But the next day, I always fired up the cooker again.

I saved every single pound. When the time for the birth drew close, my mum called me and said I should stay with themnot to be alone. My daughter was born there. Since then, my parents have been my rock. They dont support me financially, but they keep me uprighthelping with the children whenever I have orders.

Now, my son is six. My daughter grows quickly. With my mum, I started a modest baking venture. It’s not a big company, but we have a small kitchen space, making birthday cakes, sweet tables, orders for events. We’re not rich, but I don’t go to bed hungry, and I never fall asleep worrying that Ill have nothing for my children tomorrow.

I know how much it hurts when a man leaves a woman and her children. It isnt fair. But I also know thisyou cant wait for someone to rescue you. No one came to save me. When you have children, you dont have the luxury of quitting.