This is definitely not where I saw myself when I was a Freshman going into college. I had dreams of being engaged going into my Senior year, graduating, getting a job, getting married, waiting for years, then around 24 or 25 I'd have my first child with my husband of a few years. We would, of course, travel to different and exotic places. We'd buy a house and have a white picket fence. Basically, some girls' dreams of life in college/after college.

Then my Sophomore year, the universe laughed in my face. I had just gotten done with my fall semester of Sophomore year. I was felt pretty good about my semester and was ready to tackle the next few years and make things "official" with the guy I was seeing. Just a few measly days before Christmas, I went to the local prompt care looking to get a diagnosis of the Flu and be sent home on my way with a script for TheraFlu and a can of soup.

But within mere minutes, my life changed. When I was fifteen, I was told I'd never have children. I would need extreme fertility treatments and that may not even work. I was given medicine to control my Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) for years. So when I was told I was pregnant at nineteen, I was astonished. I was overwhelmed with feelings. Was I happy because it was a miracle? Was I scared because I was in college, unmarried? Was I scared because I was going to have to drop out to take care of a baby?

I left the doctors office with, not a script for TheraFlu, but for prenatal vitamins. I called my boyfriend and left a message telling him to call me back and went to my local Target and broke down in the middle of the store. I was a mess when my boyfriend called me back. He sort of laughed when I told him because the night before he told me I was pregnant. He also reassured me it'd all be okay.

I was able to continue my Sophomore year with the precious help of two very special professors. They helped me get everything figured out so that I did not have to drop out and I could graduate on time.

In August 2015, I gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl. She is the light of my life and nothing will ever change that. To be honest, though, it is extremely hard.

My Junior year felt like a ride I couldn't get off of. Between taking care of a newborn, finding someone to watch her while I was at class, and working part time, it was hard. I got through it, though.

But what is really hard about being a mom in college is missing out on the opportunities that come with college. I always wanted to join a sorority, but what Greek life organization is going to want a mom? I can't afford it even though I could make time for it. Maybe I wasn't fit for it, though. Who knows.

I never get to go to many of the university's events unless it's family friendly. Besides my daughter, I have two teenage step-sons live with us (yes, you read that right). I usually have them with me since my fiance works really odd hours (swing shift is a doozy). So unless I can find a babysitter for my daughter or I can take my step-sons and daughter, I usually can't go.

I barely get to see my daughter, too. This year, my Senior year, I wake up at around 6 AM., get ready, wake up my daughter, get her ready, and I'm out the door by no later than 6:50 AM. I have to drive 30 minutes to get her to daycare then turn around and drive 30 minutes back to where I live for an internship. I'm at my internship from 7:45 to 11 then off to class. After class, I'm off to work. I then pick up my daughter at 5:45 PM., go home, cook dinner for my family, feed everyone, then it's bedtime routine. I get to see my daughter for maybe 2 hours every day. It's hard.

I try to make it as a college student and work as hard as I can to make sure that I can provide the best future for my daughter. This is also important to show my step-sons since they live with their dad and me. Neither their dad nor their biological mom has a college degree. I have to show them how to persevere.

I also put so much pressure on myself. I feel like when it comes to my studies, I have to prove myself. I have to show my professors, my colleagues, and my university that moms can do it. I'm tired of being judged that I am a mom at 21. I feel like to stop being from judging me, I have to put in 200x the effort. It's stressful. I don't eat for days trying to make sure everything is in order: the house, my family, my schooling.

The reality isn't fun. It's neither romantic or cool. It's rough, stressful and borderline psychotic. But I wouldn't trade it. My stepsons and my daughter have saved me. My future husband has saved me. And for that, I can't thank them enough.

Until next time, Stay Wild.