I met my husband Noah when I was just 16. Young, right?
But from the moment I saw him at the mall in 2010, I knew I wanted him to be mine. We quickly became inseparable, spending every possible moment together—skipping class, borrowing our parents’ cars to drive across town, completely enthralled with each other. Our teenage love was intense, carefree, and all-consuming.
A couple of years passed, and we graduated high school together. Shortly after, I discovered I was pregnant. Fear and uncertainty gripped me, but Noah promised to be different from other teen dads. He vowed he would always be there for us—and he wasn’t lying.
A year later, we had our beautiful three-month-old baby girl, Arianna. Around the same time, Noah was offered an incredible job opportunity ten hours away from all our family and friends. We were only 18 and 19, and the thought of moving was terrifying. But we took the leap. Right before leaving, Noah proposed, surrounded by our newborn and everyone we loved. It was perfect.
The move was harder than we imagined. For eight months, Noah worked 14-hour days, while I stayed in a house with family I barely knew. We were isolated, battling depression, and struggling to adjust—but we faced it together. Eventually, we returned home, ready to rebuild our lives. Six months later, on our four-year dating anniversary, we were married at 19 and 20, with Arianna as our adorable flower girl. That day overflowed with love and joy unlike anything I had ever felt.
Weeks after the wedding, I discovered I was pregnant again. Our baby boy, Jack, arrived nine months later, completing our family. By 21, we were young, married, and blessed with a boy and a girl. The next few years were filled with camping trips, family nights, and the simple joys of building a life together.
But at 24, my mental health began to unravel. I lost the motivation to cook, clean, or even shower. Parenting felt overwhelming, and Noah and I argued more than ever. Recognizing I needed help, I stepped back to focus on therapy and healing. During our separation, we co-parented beautifully—keeping holidays sacred, ensuring our children always felt loved and supported by both of us. Even in my darkest moments, Noah was unwavering. I remember a day when a bottle of pills spilled across my bed, and my mom had to rush me to the hospital. Noah was there every step—holding my hand, supporting me, and stepping up as the parent when I couldn’t.
After a year and a half of hard work and therapy, I found my strength again. I could smile, cook, and truly be present with my kids. Noah and I realized we were too good together to stay apart. Now, at 25, we are happily married, raising our six-year-old daughter and four-year-old son.
Our journey hasn’t been easy. We’ve faced heartbreak, struggles, and moments that felt unbearable. Life and relationships are messy, but we’ve learned that prioritizing mental health is crucial. Seek help before you hit your lowest point. And if two people are truly meant to be together, even after challenges, they will find their way back.
