I Am 25 Years Old and Have a 15-Year-Old Daughter
And here I am, 25 years old with a 15-year-old daughter.
But let me explain why.
I come from a very poor family. My parents always had to work extremely hard to provide us with the basics, you know? Ever since I was 12 years old, I used to go with my mother to the house where she worked as a maid. At that age, I was already responsible for taking care of the daughter of the homeowners, while my mother did all the cleaning. At just 12 years old, I was in charge of a two-year-old baby.
I spent more time with her than her own mother because both homeowners were always out all day. They owned a large business and dedicated their time to it. Her mother would pump milk, leave it in the fridge, and I would feed the baby. And that’s how it was for a long time.
When I was 17, my mother passed away. She became very ill and didn’t make it. That left just me and my father. My father fell into heavy drinking. I had to go out and find him at bars to bring him home. The only source of income we had was basically mine.
I kept working for that family, with a fixed arrival time but no fixed time to leave. That’s why I didn’t finish my studies. But they helped me a lot. The money I earned was used to pay the electricity and water bills. They also gave me food supplies and clothes. My employer would give me clothes she no longer wanted, and even her husband would pass down his clothes, which I would give to my father.
After my mother passed, my father didn’t last long either. About a year and a half later, he suffered a fatal heart attack. By the time I turned 18, I was already a grown woman.
I believe that my employers’ daughter, having spent so much time with me instead of her parents, grew attached. By the time she turned three, she was already calling me “Mom.” Whenever her parents weren’t home, she called me that. When her mother arrived, she would say she had two moms—her biological mother and me.
Her mother never minded; in fact, she found it sweet. And I never tried to stop her. She grew up seeing me as her second mother, and I could no longer imagine myself away from that family.
When my father passed away, my employers gave me a room inside their house, and I started living there. The truth is, they did it because their daughter was growing up. Around that time, my employer told me she would pay for my online education—she didn’t want me to go without studying.
That made me incredibly happy. She gave me a laptop, and I started studying while her daughter was at school. That’s how my life continued.
I didn’t really know what was going on in my employers’ marriage. I had no idea things weren’t going well between them. Until one day, while I was studying, my employer suddenly arrived home in the afternoon, went to her room, grabbed several suitcases, and then looked at me and said:
“I only ask you one thing—take care of my daughter as if she were your own, just like you always have.”
And then she left.
Later that day, my boss called me into his office and explained everything that had happened. He told me that she had left for another country, that she had met someone else, and had abandoned both him and their daughter.
I was in shock. At the same time, I felt sorry for him.
He was a young man, very handsome, about 12 years older than me. But he was charming, attractive… you know?
I told him he could count on me, of course. He said, “I want you to finish high school. Then, I want you to go to college because I want the best for you. But please, take care of my daughter and help me with her.”
I reassured him, telling him that, just as I always had, I would continue to take care of her.
I completed my studies at 22, and he was always at home. We started talking a lot. Eventually, something developed between us. There was undeniable chemistry, and we ended up getting together. Later, we made our relationship official.
As for my stepdaughter? She loves me deeply. She calls me “Mom” in front of everyone, just as she always has.
But my partner’s family doesn’t accept me. They say I am not from the same social class and that I was just the housemaid. My partner always defends me. Whenever our daughter hears these comments, she fights back, saying that I am her real mother.
Afterward, I got my driver’s license. Now, I take her to school, and I see how the teachers look at me strangely when she calls me “Mom”—after all, I am 25, and she is 15.
But she grew up with me since she was just two years old. She was my little doll, my real-life doll. And I love her like a mother loves her child.
We haven’t heard from her biological mother since she left. She never calls, not even to ask how her daughter is doing.
I believe that God planned everything down to the smallest detail.
I miss my mother and father terribly. I wish they were alive now so I could provide them with a better life. But unfortunately, they are gone. They’re not here anymore.
I face a lot of judgment because of this whole story. Some people say that I pursued my boss just to become the lady of the house. But they don’t know the truth.
They don’t know that I was there when he hit rock bottom, when he suffered. They don’t know that I took care of his daughter and that this love grew naturally.
And yes, I am 25 years old, and I have my 15-year-old daughter—who proudly tells everyone that I am her mother. She no longer asks about her biological mother.
Despite the judgment, I am truly happy. I love her deeply.
Honestly, I don’t know if I plan on having more children. If I ever do, I know my partner will fully support me.
I am certain that God has guided everything perfectly.
I am happy.
I have a daughter.
And this is my story