What I Did to Build Financial Stability After Having a Kid When I Wasn’t Financially Ready
I was 22, changing my 6-week-old son’s explosive diaper at 3:17 a.m. when I checked my bank account and saw $12.78 remaining after paying rent that month. The leak had seeped through the last generic diaper I had, I was sitting on a faded bath towel I’d picked up at the thrift store for 50 cents, my car sat in the trailer park driveway with an empty gas tank, and I’d skipped filling my own birth control prescription that month to buy formula. My ex had bailed on us a month before the baby was born, I’d dropped out of community college the semester before to work more shifts at the barista job that wasn’t even covering basic costs, and I had no clue what came next.
The first thing I did that actually helped wasn’t some big life overhaul I saw on TikTok. It was spending an afternoon on the couch calling every single one of my bills to ask for a lower rate. I’d heard a random mom mention it in a Facebook group, so I tried it. My internet provider had a low-income assistance program I’d never heard of, and they cut my bill from $65 a month to $10. The electric company put me on a level-pay plan that kept my monthly bill steady at $35 instead of spiking to $80 in the dead of winter. That saved me $80 a month right off the bat, with 45 minutes of phone calls. That was enough to cover a full pack of diapers and a tank of gas that month.
I stopped trying to keep up with the parenting standards I saw online, too. That saved me more money than I can count. I accepted every hand-me-down anyone offered, even if the onesies had small fruit stains or the toddler sneakers were scuffed. I alternated between disposable and cheap cloth diapers when I got low on cash at the end of the month. I steamed and mashed frozen bananas and oats for baby food instead of buying pre-made jars, which cost a fraction of the price. When my son turned 3 and asked why his backpack was a hand-me-down with peeling Spider-Man stickers, I didn’t lie or get defensive. I said “Right now we don’t have extra money for a new one, but we can go to the dollar store and pick out 5 new stickers to fix it. Does that work for you?” He thought that was way more fun than a plain new backpack, and it cost me a dollar.
I tried one of those “passive income side hustles” everyone talks about, selling printable wall art, and it made me $12 in three months. That wasn’t worth the time I could have spent sleeping or playing with my son. What did work was leaning into the one small skill I already had: I’d always been good at taking clear, organized notes in classes before I dropped out. I put up a $5 flyer on the community college bulletin board advertising typed, organized lecture notes for nursing and bio classes for $15 a course. Most weeks I only had 2-3 orders, which I worked on for an hour or two after my son went to bed, and it brought in an extra $60 to $100 a month. I used a free laptop I got through the college’s low-income student loan program, so I didn’t have to buy any equipment to start.
I also stopped being too proud to use the assistance programs I qualified for. I used to think WIC and food assistance were for other people, not me, but signing up for WIC covered all my son’s formula and milk for the first two years, which saved me close to $300 a month. When he started pre-K, he qualified for free lunch and snacks, which cut my grocery bill by another $30 a week. These programs are tools, not a life sentence. I used that extra breathing room to pay off small debts one at a time, instead of living paycheck to paycheck with no buffer.
Instead of setting a big goal like “get a four-year degree in two years” that I couldn’t possibly manage while working and raising a kid, I set tiny, achievable goals. My first goal was to save $1000 for an emergency fund, which took me 10 months. Next, I paid off the $500 medical bill I owed from my son’s birth. Then I started taking one class a semester at community college, which I paid for with a Pell grant so I didn’t have to take out student loans. When I got accepted as a student employee on campus, they offered discounted childcare for student workers, which cut my weekly childcare cost in half. I didn’t know that program existed until a campus counselor mentioned it, so I always pass that tip along to other parents going back to school part-time. It took me five years to finish my associate’s degree in early childhood education, and now I work as a teacher’s aide at the same elementary school my son attends. I get a steady paycheck, affordable health insurance, and my schedule matches his school schedule, so I don’t need extra childcare anymore.
Today, we live in a two-bedroom apartment with a small backyard. We have $3000 in our emergency savings, and we go out for ice cream every Friday after school. I still buy generic cereal, I still accept hand-me-down jeans for my son, and some months are still tight. If the water heater broke tomorrow, I’d have to put it on a payment plan, and I don’t have a retirement fund set up yet. It’s not the perfect stable life people talk about, but it’s our stable life.
When I meet young parents in the same spot I was seven years ago, I don’t give them a big speech about hard work or pulling yourself up. I just tell them to start with one small thing: call one bill this week and ask for a lower rate, sign up for the assistance programs you qualify for, find one small thing you’re already good at that you can make a little extra money from. You don’t have to fix everything this month. You just have to take one step.
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