2 years of Motherhood

As My Daughter Turns 2 — Our Story of Grace, Faith, and Jehovah Jireh

As my daughter turns two, I can’t help but sit here—grateful, emotional, and honestly, still in disbelief. Two years. Two whole years since our story began in the most unexpected way.

I remember leaving Nigeria, saying goodbye to my then husband, completely unaware that I was carrying a little miracle inside me. I had no clue that goodbye would turn out to be THE GOODBYE. Fast forward to Canada—alone, still figuring out how to survive grad school, and then—boom—two pink lines. I was pregnant.

And this was me, the same person who told anyone that cared to listen that I’d wait at least two years before having a child. But here I was—two months married, pregnant, and a few minutes away from a full-blown panic attack.

After the tears (and maybe a little dramatic talking to myself), I calmed down and started making plans. Something in my spirit must have known I’d walk this road solo, because I told myself, “Okay Ife, you’ll just work really hard through this MBA, save up, and make sure you and your baby are okay.”

But God—oh God—had other plans.

Instead of hustling my way through pregnancy, I got critically ill. I wasn’t thinking about money anymore; I was thinking about survival. Yet, in that wilderness, I met God as Jehovah Jireh—my Provider in every sense.

I didn’t work a corporate job throughout my pregnancy or even a year after my baby was born. Somehow, through small business gigs, parental support, and Employment Insurance, and random credit alerts from God knows where, God provided more than enough. I can’t even explain how. All I can say is—Jehovah Jireh showed up, steady and sure.

My child truly has a Heavenly Father who can be trusted. And me? I found a Lover who never leaves, even in the valley.

Then came February 2025—after a January that felt like 18 months in one. I was battling in my prayer closet, crying, wrestling, and holding onto faith by a thread. And just when I thought God had gone on vacation—He showed up. I got a job. Two weeks later, I was promoted with a salary increase.

I didn’t need financial family support anymore (although my dad still bought me my car, Thank you daddy). I could give. Me, Ifeoluwa—a single mother paying bills in a country where they say one income can’t sustain a home—saw God feed my household on no income for almost two years, then elevate me to abundance.

Tell me He’s not real.

While pregnant, I remember doctors calling to say my baby might have autism. I told them, “My child is perfect.” A week before delivery, they said her heart veins looked enlarged—I said, “She’s fine.” After birth, they ran test after test, expecting bad news. But everything came back perfect.

Two years later, she’s still perfect (except for those nights she decides sleep is optional).

To anyone walking a hard road—barely breathing, dragging yourself out of bed, wondering if you’ll ever make it—hear me: You will. I’m living breathing proof. I always say my strength finished in 2023—because it did. That year broke me. But God picked me up, poured His strength into me, and became my peace and joy, even when everything around me was chaos.

He wants to do that for you too.

Our story isn’t over; in fact, it’s just beginning. We’re stepping into a season of such abundance that people will start asking if I’m using jazz (if you know, you know). But it’s not jazz—it’s Jesus.

And to my sweet baby girl, when you one day read mummy’s blog—

Happy Birthday, my love. I adore you more than words will ever capture. You, my Ebunoluwa, are my gift—God’s gift. You’re not a mistake or a burden. You’re living proof of God’s perfect will.

Thank you for calling me “mine.” I’m honoured to be your mummy.

Here’s to many more birthdays and memories—full of laughter, grace, and Jollof rice.

With love,

Yours truly,

Ebunoluwa’s Mummyyyyy ❤️