I always knew I’d need help as a solo parent-entrepreneur. What I didn’t expect was how much I’d struggle with actually accepting it – or how finding the right people would transform not just my business, but my entire approach to motherhood.
From the moment I saw those two pink lines, I started researching childcare options. Night nannies, au pairs, in-home daycares, live-in help; I knew I couldn’t build a business and raise Kazuki completely alone. But knowing you need help and being comfortable with it? Those are two very different things.
What I’ve learned over these first two years is that finding the right childcare isn’t just about convenience or cost. It’s about finding your people. The ones who don’t just watch your child, but who become part of your extended family, your village, your support system when the going gets tough.
The Guilt That Nobody Talks About
Even before Kazuki was born, I was wrestling with a voice in my head that whispered I was already failing as a mother. Birth mothers don’t need night nannies. Real mothers can handle everything themselves. The guilt started before he was even here.
My dad and godmother were scheduled to fly in from Japan to help during those first crucial months, but they’re both elderly, and knowing I had a high chance of a C-section, I secretly arranged for a night nanny. When they insisted we didn’t need one, I felt like I was admitting some terrible weakness by keeping the arrangement.
That night, the nanny was a godsend. She didn’t replace me during those precious newborn days – she made sure I could actually be present for them. While she handled the night feedings, I got the rest I needed to be engaging and alert during the day. She helped establish our routine, setting us up for long-term success.
But even with proof that help was beneficial, I still felt like I was somehow cheating at motherhood.
When the Wrong Help Teaches You What You Really Need
When my father had to return to Japan, I brought in an au pair from Brazil. Au pairs seemed like the perfect solution – live-in help that was more affordable than a full-time nanny, plus cultural exchange for our family.
But not every arrangement works out, and I learned this the hard way. What started as small red flags – missed responsibilities, boundary pushing – escalated until I discovered she was sneaking her boyfriend into our home. By then, Kazuki was almost nine months old.
The experience was devastating, but it taught me something crucial: it’s not just about having help – it’s about having the RIGHT help. People you trust implicitly, who understand that your child’s safety and your family’s peace of mind are non-negotiable.
Finding Your People: The Game-Changers
That experience led me to Pamela’s in-home daycare, and everything clicked into place. Pamela doesn’t just watch Kazuki; she adores him. She opens her doors at 6:30 AM when I have early meetings and stays until 7 PM when work runs long. She cooks his favorite meals, celebrates his milestones, and sends me photos throughout the day, not because she has to, but because she genuinely cares.
For the first time, I started to understand what exceptional childcare looks like. It wasn’t about someone replacing me as his mother – it was about expanding his world with more love, more attention, more nurturing than I could provide alone.
Then there’s “Auntie Eri,” who became our backup for life’s inevitable curveballs. She’s raised three wonderful daughters and has so much wisdom about parenting and life. When I got pneumonia last winter and was bedridden with a high fever, Eri didn’t just step in. She became our lifeline. She picked up Kazuki, brought homemade soup to my door, and held our entire world together while I recovered.
But even with these incredible women in our lives, I still battled the guilt every single time I called for help.
The Conversation That Changed Everything
It was Eri who finally helped me see past my own limiting beliefs. After watching me apologize for the hundredth time for “bothering” her with a pickup request, she sat me down for a conversation that shifted everything.
“Yuko, you need to fill your own cup to pour into his,” she said gently. “You think having help makes you less of a mother, but I see the opposite. I see someone who’s smart enough to build a support system so she can be the best version of herself for her son.”
She was right. The guilt I was carrying wasn’t serving anyone, not me, not Kazuki, not my business. In fact, it was actively making everything harder.
What Good Help Really Looks Like
Here’s what I’ve learned about finding your people: they don’t just provide a service – they become invested in your family’s success. Pamela remembers that Kazuki loves dinosaurs and incorporates them into activities. Eri checks in on me when I’ve been quiet too long, knowing that solo parenting can be isolating.
These women have become family friends, not just service providers. They celebrate Kazuki’s wins with genuine joy, and they’ve created a web of love and support around us that makes both of us stronger.
Quality childcare isn’t cheap, and having this support means I need to work harder to afford it. But I’ve come to understand that this isn’t just an expense – it’s an investment in my ability to show up fully for both my business and my son.
Redefining What “Good Mothering” Means
The biggest shift has been realizing that showing Kazuki how to build a support system, how to ask for help when you need it, and how to take care of yourself isn’t setting a bad example – it’s teaching him some of life’s most important lessons.
I want him to grow up seeing that strong people build strong teams. That asking for help is a sign of wisdom, not weakness. That taking care of yourself allows you to take better care of others.
With Pamela and Eri as part of our village, I’ve become more patient, more present, more joyful as a mother. During the time I have with Kazuki, I’m actually with him – not distracted by the mountain of tasks I’m trying to manage alone.
Building Your Village, One Person at a Time
Every solo parent’s journey looks different, and what works for us might not work for you. Maybe your village includes family members, maybe it’s a combination of different care providers, or maybe you’re still figuring it out. That’s okay, building your support system is a process, not a destination.
What I want you to know is this: you don’t have to earn the right to have help. You don’t have to be drowning to deserve support. You don’t have to prove you’ve tried everything alone first.
Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is create space for ourselves to be the parents our children deserve. And that almost always means letting other people love and support our families too.
