Years ago, I took a hit from the proverbial curve ball and what I considered at the time to be the most painful moment of my life turned out to be the very moment that defined my purpose of life.

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My curve ball threw me into the middle of my worst nightmare. I was barely (2) years into my Bachelor degree at the University. I was broke; jobless, fallen out of grace with my family and on top of that I was expecting a baby for a man who was not in any way ready to be a father. Like any girl my age, I had dreams of the kind of family I wanted; a husband, three children, a dog and a mansion in Victoria Island. Going solo was not on my agenda but obviously, this was exactly where I was headed. I often wondered out loud, who would want to date much less marry an "after one" like me? and what about my other dreams? The one where I graduate from University, do my masters and a few professional courses, get a high paying job or set up my own business and build my empire? Was that over for me too? Is my life over? I asked a lot of questions but got no answers. But only a single thought echoed deep in my heart. This cannot be my story.

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For (3) years following the birth of my son I juggled motherhood among my other priorities. It was not easy but the fact that I had everything to lose if I failed motivated me and kept me going. In that time, I met other single mothers who shared similar stories with me. What baffled me is that a lot these women lived in denial. In private, they acknowledged their children but in public, their actions appeared to be an attempt to prove that they were anything but single mothers. Not many of the men who dated these women were aware of the children they already (not until the men were very emotionally involved or sometimes not at all).

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