I never wanted to be a mother at 19. Yet, caring for my sister Abby’s daughter, Rosie, felt like full-time motherhood. Abby, 32

and single, treated motherhood like an afterthought, leaving me to handle a colicky baby while she chased dates and ignored

her responsibilities. I balanced a part-time job, nursing school, and caring for our ill mom but Abby expected me to babysit

constantly, with no guilt or thanks.

Her “just a couple of hours” outings stretched into nights, and I was exhausted, falling behind in school and life. One night,

Abby came home hours late, smelling of perfume and bar food, while I was cradling a screaming Rosie, barely holding myself

together. I finally told her I couldn’t do it anymore. She snapped back, refusing to take responsibility. That was my breaking point.

With help from friends who were retired social workers, I staged an intervention while Abby was out on a date. They confronted

her with the truth how she was neglecting both Rosie and me. Abby was shocked and, for the first time, she saw what her

choices were doing to everyone.

Since then, she’s changed. She holds Rosie more, communicates better, and respects my boundaries. Preston, her boyfriend, is

gone he couldn’t handle the family side of things. For once, Abby is really trying. Now, I love Rosie fiercely, but I also love

myself enough to know I’m not her mother just her aunt. And for now, that has to be enough.