I will never forget the moment I found out I was pregnant. Honestly, I can’t fully describe how I felt because when emotions crash over you all at once, words feel impossible. I was excited, scared, nervous, happy, and confused—sometimes all at the same time. My mind couldn’t make sense of it. This was something I had wanted my entire life: the gift of becoming a mother. I always imagined this moment with tears of joy, holding hands with a loving partner—but life had other plans.
I remember sitting on the bathroom floor alone in my NYC apartment at 3:00 a.m., staring at the pregnancy test, thinking, there’s no way this is real. I threw on my coat, walked down to CVS on 7th Avenue, and bought three more boxes of tests. Over the next two hours, I chugged water and took eight tests in total. Every single one lit up positive. Eight in a row. October 24, 2019—the day my life changed forever.
I didn’t sleep that night. Instead, I spent hours online, googling everything I could think of about unexpected pregnancies. “How do you tell your partner?” “How do you tell your family?” “Advice for first-time mothers with unexpected pregnancies.” I craved reassurance, any small sign that it was okay to feel joy, to be allowed to be excited even when life hadn’t gone according to plan.
I wanted to smile, to rub my belly, to let myself feel the joy I’d imagined for so long—but I was overwhelmed. I worried constantly about judgment, about people giving advice I hadn’t asked for, and about disappointing my family. The first trimester was full of tears and self-doubt. I felt like I had failed some invisible societal timeline, that I had messed everything up. A few friends and family knew, and while they told me my choices were mine alone, almost every conversation came with unsolicited opinions. There were no “Congratulations!” or “This is so exciting!”—only “How did this happen?” or “What are you going to do?” The only person offering reassurance was my partner, who was incredibly supportive and excited about becoming a family. With him, I silently celebrated my happiness.
I kept my pregnancy mostly private until March 2020, waiting for the perfect moment to announce it. I wanted to have answers ready for every possible question. But in that time, my child’s father had a change of heart and decided not to be involved. A whirlwind of emotions hit me all at once, layered on top of pregnancy hormones. I told myself to focus on my baby, on staying healthy, and on embracing the journey into motherhood, no matter what.
On March 6, 2020—my 28th birthday—I decided it was time to tell the world. By then, I was almost six months pregnant, and to my relief, the reactions were overwhelmingly positive. For the first time, I allowed myself to publicly celebrate my little miracle. I let go of worries about disappointing others, about not fitting some idea of a “perfect” family, and I embraced the joy of welcoming my baby boy. I finally felt free.
Then, just a week later, the pandemic hit New York hard. Everything shut down. I spent months quarantined alone in my Manhattan apartment. The early days were lonely and uncertain, but every little kick from my baby reminded me I wasn’t alone. Those tiny movements became my solace. I spent countless nights talking to him, imagining his little personality even before he arrived.
Furloughed from my job, I worried about finances and how I would manage everything on my own. Most doctor visits were virtual and felt almost pointless. When I did go in person, I walked everywhere to avoid public transit, exhausted from both pregnancy and constant mask-wearing. Each appointment felt rushed, like speed-dating with my doctor, leaving me anxious that something could be missed.
My sister, Amanda, who is an ER nurse, worked tirelessly on the front lines but made sure my pregnancy wasn’t missed. We had a small gender reveal by the Brooklyn Bridge, a maternity photoshoot in the West Village, and a virtual baby shower she organized with my mom. She ensured that even in a pandemic, I could experience the special moments I had always dreamed of. She wasn’t just a lifesaver in the hospital—she became my photographer, planner, and cheerleader.
My due date was June 27, 2020. My mom flew from Florida on June 17 to help with the final preparations and be my birthing partner. On the night she arrived, she even spoke to my baby, welcoming him and letting him know it was okay to come out. On June 18, at 4 a.m., my contractions began. By 10 a.m., the pain was intense, and I headed to the hospital. My mom had to wait outside while I completed COVID testing and paperwork, which took over two hours. Finally, around noon, my test came back negative, and I received an epidural. My mom joined me, and everything after that was smooth and beautiful.
After 40 minutes of pushing, at 10:07 p.m., my son was born—Wesley James Hilton, 6 pounds, 14 ounces. Holding him on my chest, the tears I had long imagined finally came. Pure joy, love, and relief washed over me. My life had begun anew.
Motherhood has been a rollercoaster, filled with highs and lows, but even the lows carry love and joy. Some days, I felt unstoppable; other days, I could barely keep my eyes open. I worried constantly—about milk supply, his breathing, and how I would manage once my mom left—but slowly, I learned to let go. Worrying didn’t change reality; it didn’t create support, it didn’t make the pandemic disappear. What mattered was loving my son and making a life that worked for us.
Being a single mother has taught me confidence, resilience, and joy. I focus on making life happy and stable for both of us. Wesley has transformed my life completely—bringing joy to our family and friends. He’s my best friend, my adventure buddy, and the reason I wake up with gratitude every day. He has healed my heart in ways I never imagined.
Looking back, I wish I could tell my younger self to embrace every moment, to be proud of herself, and to trust in the journey. To any mother experiencing an unexpected pregnancy: cherish every kick, every milestone, every sleepless night, and every messy moment. These 40 weeks fly by, and every second is precious. For single mothers especially, know that doing it alone doesn’t mean doing it wrong. Your journey is valid, beautiful, and uniquely yours.
Unplanned does not mean unwanted. Sometimes the greatest gifts in life arrive when you least expect them—and for me, Wesley was the most wonderful, unexpected gift of all.
