My parents didn’t see it that way.
They said I’d ruined everything. They told me I was on my own. Within days, I didn’t have any help or a place to stay.
My parents didn’t see it that way.
By November 1998, I was juggling classes, two newborns, and whatever work I could find. My children’s father had asked me to abort, so he wasn’t in the picture. Most nights, I worked the late shift at the university library.
The girls, Lily and Mae, stayed wrapped against my chest in a worn sling I’d picked up secondhand.
I lived off instant noodles and campus coffee.
It wasn’t a plan, just survival.
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