Niki Jones

Right now, I’m in my third trimester, pregnant with high-risk twins, living in an extended stay motel, and doing everything I can to keep going. I never thought I’d be the one writing something like this. But here I am, at forty years old, trying to hold everything together while life feels like it’s piling on faster than I can catch my breath. I’m doing this on my own. No family to lean on. No safety net. Just me, trying to stay strong and prepare for two babies who are depending on me for everything. I also own my own cleaning business. I’ve worked hard to build it, and I’m not afraid of putting in the work. The problem isn’t willingness. It’s access. Without a reliable car, I can’t do my job. My work requires me to travel between different clients’ homes while carrying cleaning supplies and equipment. It’s not something I can realistically do with rides or public transportation. Because of that, I’m stuck in this position where I’m ready and able to work, but physically can’t get there to earn the money I need. It’s a frustrating place to be… knowing you’re capable, knowing you’re trying, but being held back by something so basic. And right now, it feels like there are a hundred things stacked on top of me all at once. Some days it’s hard to even put into words. I just know I have to keep going, because I don’t have another choice. Not having transportation also makes getting to my high-risk pregnancy appointments stressful and uncertain. Even simple things like grocery shopping or preparing for my babies become overwhelming obstacles. I’m not asking for anything extravagant. I’m asking for a chance. A reliable car would mean I can get to every appointment without fear. It would mean I can work again, support myself, and start building stability. It would mean independence, and a safer start for my babies. Asking for help doesn’t come easy to me. But right now, I have to think about what matters most. If you’re able to donate, even a small amount, it truly makes a difference. And if you can’t, sharing this could help it reach someone who can. I’m still here. I’m still fighting. Even on the days where it feels like too much. Because right now, it’s me… and two little lives depending on me to figure this out.