Milestones and Memories

No one really knows how many times I’ve had to reignite my spark after someone tried to put it out. It’s a quiet battle, one that happens in my mind, with no applause or recognition—but I keep fighting. Sometimes it’s a tiny flicker, barely hanging on. Other times, it’s a flame fighting against the wind. And that wind can come from anywhere—people, situations, or even my own doubts.

When I look back, I see how often I’ve had to relight that spark, usually because of outside voices telling me who I should be, or how I don’t fit in. I’ve been told to shrink myself, to be quieter, more like everyone else—not always with words, but with exclusion, avoidance, and judgment.

I used to be the bubbly, happy girl who smiled at everyone. But at my last job, I felt like an outsider, trapped in a clique of women who gossiped and shut me out. Eventually, they fired me, asking me to sign a paper full of lies. I respectfully refused. There’s so much more to that story, but honestly, I don’t have the energy to go there.

I never fit in. I felt unwelcome, small. Even my boss started treating me differently, like I wasn’t worth her time. That place, those people—they broke something in me. I’m still trying to heal from it. Not long after, I ended up in the hospital, and I know that job played a part in it.

The only thing that kept me going was the babies. I worked in a daycare, and those little ones were my light. Watching them grow from tiny babies who couldn’t sit up to toddlers taking their first steps was a gift. To be trusted with someone’s child, to love them like they were my own—that was my purpose. Every smile, every milestone, every cuddle—I cherished it all.

The parents were incredible too—kind, thoughtful, and they even knew my own kids by name. I’ll always treasure the friendships I made with them.

But after what I went through, I know I’ll never work in childcare again. That job changed me in ways I can’t undo, and I can’t go back to that atmosphere. Still, working with babies will always feel like my true calling, and I’ll carry those memories with me forever.

I still think about those babies all the time. I wonder if Ada Patayta is still as curious as ever. Is Ellis still smiling that smile that made my day? Kasen is probably running around by now. And Mila—I wonder if she’s still the adventurous eater, or if she’s gotten picky. They’re probably talking by now, growing into little people, and I hope they have the best friends, the best teachers, the best lives.

I miss them deeply. I never got to say goodbye. I watched them hit so many milestones, and I celebrated every one with them. It breaks my heart that I never got to say goodbye, but I’ll always carry them with me. I miss them every day.