My daughter is a year old. Her sperm donor walked out before she was even here. I am a single parent and I survived my first year of it. I can sit here and tell you about how much I hate him for leaving, but I won't. Don't get me wrong, I am mad about it. I have been pretty quiet on social media about him anyway. I didn't feel it was my place. But it has been a year and I do have words I want to get out.

The first being that I don't hate him. I want to. I want to scream and yell and bash his head against a wall. But I also can't. He was my friend first and I can't forget the person he used to be around me. If he called with an emergency, I would still answer. A lot of my friends give me shit for it, but they understand. As much as I hate the decision he made, I don't wish him a bad life. At one point in time, I loved him. Maybe I was young and stupid. Maybe we were both different people back then. Whatever the case, I don't hate him.

That being said, this year alone has been a crazy one. My daughter is amazing. I got so lucky. She isn't colicky, she didn't scream much, and God, is she smart. But being awake all night, while this little human replica of myself and someone I was trying to forget giggles at me as I try again to get her to fall asleep, is probably the most frustrating thing on the face of the Earth. If you're a parent, you understand how beautiful it is to sleep for a full four hours without getting up once to refill a bottle or change a diaper. I can also say with absolute certainty that this year has taught me that I will never be a stay at home mom. I cannot do it. I give so much props to the parents that do. You have so much patience and I seriously don't know how you don't rip your hair out. As bad as it sounds, work is my break. I get away for a few hours a day. I get to escape and be an adult and not watch Paw Patrol on repeat or spell out swear words. I can actually swear! It feels good.

But nothing, nothing in this world is better than my weekends. I get to come home every Thursday and look forward to a three day weekend with my daughter. We are up at around six every morning. We go to the park almost every day (if it's nice out). If it's raining or too cold we play inside and read a thousand books. I hate cleaning, but I love making a mess with my daughter. We pull out every toy and just throw them around the house. We dance and sing and I probably look like a complete lunatic to anyone who walks in and sees me, but that's okay. Listening to the laugh that comes out of that little girl, it's worth it. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

A few weeks ago, I had my first major scare as a parent. She was having trouble breathing. I rushed her to the ER. We spent two days in the hospital, with lots of tears, mostly from me. She was so brave. I have never been more scared in my life than when I saw my one-year-old daughter hooked up to oxygen. I yelled at a handful of nurses (if any of them are reading this, I'm so sorry). I was a crazy person. But looking at that little life, hooked up to all those machines, and every professional around you not being able to tell you what's wrong... it's the worst. I remember thinking that if I lost her, that was it, my life would be over. I would have no reason to continue. And it hit me. So much had changed in the last year. Sure, when I was pregnant with her, I loved her. When she was first born, I didn't think I could love her any more than in that moment, but God was I wrong.

I thought back, if I had lost her when I was pregnant, it would've been tough, but I would've made it through. If I had lost her in childbirth it would've been even harder, but I still somehow over time would've made it. Looking at her now, though, she really is my entire world. I would give up everything for her. People ask me constantly if it hurts to look at her because she looks so much like her dad. And yes, it does at times. But it would hurt a lot more to not look at her. Maybe the people who tell me I had her too young are right. Maybe I didn't quite understand what I was signing myself up for, but there is no turning back. I wouldn't change it either. I wouldn't wait till I was older. I wouldn't wait till I was in a more stable relationship. I wouldn't get an abortion. I couldn't imagine my life without her, and honestly, I feel sorry for her sperm donor. He'll never know this first year of joy that I got.

Of course, it wasn't easy. It wasn't all fun and games. It was a lot of tears and a lot of frustration and judgment. There were so many times when I wanted to give up. There still are. There are still days when I'm so tired and so frustrated and she won't stop crying and screaming or we're both sick or everything seems to be going wrong and it would be so much easier to just give up. But I can't and I won't.

I also am very lucky. I have a great support system. I wasn't completely alone. My family has been so supportive. They all love my daughter and do everything they can to help me. When I named this article "A Year Alone" I didn't mean I was all alone in taking care of her all year. I mean, I felt alone. I felt isolated and I didn't have another parent to hand her off to at 3 a.m. when she wouldn't stop screaming and I couldn't turn to the other parent and ask them to just take her for a minute so that I could shower. Or to ask them to just hold me for a minute because it was so freaking hard. Or that night in the hospital, I didn't have someone to turn to and talk to about how scared we both were about whether or not our daughter would be okay. But that is what I signed up for. That is what I have to deal with. And after this year, I don't feel so alone anymore. I still don't have any of those things, but now, looking into my daughter's eyes I'm reminded that I made it this far and I'll keep fighting, for her.

So to every parent out there doing it alone for whatever reason, just remember: you've made it this far. It's tough and sometimes just making ends meet is the hardest thing in the world. But remember that you're the lucky one. You're the one who gets to come home to your child and watch them grow and hear them say, "I love you". You're the one who they will look up to. When they look back at their childhood they're going to remember that you were there and you were trying your hardest for them. Keep going. You're doing a great job.