How I Introduced Ava to Eddie

Any time I post a picture or video of Ava and Eddie together—her laughing at one of his jokes or the two of them walking side-by-side like they’ve been doing it forever—my DMs fill up with the same mix of amazement and curiosity. Women will message things like, “I love how he is with your daughter,” or “Y’all are the perfect, little blended family!”

And every time it happens, I pause for a moment. Because the truth is, their relationship didn’t appear out of thin air, and it certainly didn’t grow overnight. It was thoughtful. It was layered. It was built slowly and intentionally, in the same way my relationship with Eddie was.

So when women ask how I did it, or how they might navigate something similar, I’m reminded of all the small decisions that led us here. Decisions like the timing, the boundaries, the patience, and the unexpected moments that softened us all. It makes me want to share the story here, not because it’s perfect or prescriptive, but because it’s honest. And because so many single moms are trying to figure out how to build a life that honors both the woman they are and the child they love.

And so, this is the story of how Ava met Eddie. And also, in its own quiet way, the story of how God proved He is a God of restoration.

The Woman I Was Becoming Before Eddie

When I met Eddie, I was ready in a way I hadn’t been for years. I had done the healing work. I had spent the necessary time sitting with myself. And, if we’re being completely honest, I had also spent plenty of time entertaining men who were never going to become anything more than a few fancy dates and a lesson learned.

By the time I started at La Salle (where Eddie and I would eventually meet), I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted stability. I wanted someone intentional. I wanted a partner and not a placeholder. I wanted a man whose actions didn’t contradict his words, whose seriousness matched my own, and whose presence didn’t make me doubt myself or my future.

And because I’m a mom, all of that came with an additional layer of fear. My biggest concern was that Ava wouldn’t like him, or he wouldn’t like her. I worried she would feel replaced or unseen. I worried that I would introduce someone into her life who wouldn’t stay. So I set out to uphold my rule that she not meet a man unless I knew he was serious. And up until Eddie, she had met none of the men I dated.

But life has its own sense of timing and humor. Because Eddie and I worked together, she met him long before she knew he was anyone special. To her, he was simply “the cool STEAM teacher.” And I didn’t mind that at all.

How I Knew Eddie Was Different

Eddie did not crash into my life; he arrived with a steadiness that felt like something you could build around. In the beginning, our conversations stayed safely in the realm of work. They revolved around students, campus events, coworkers, and the mundane but familiar rhythms of school life. It was easy and predictable.

Then one day, he asked me what I was eating for dinner! It seems like nothing, but in that moment, something shifted. It was the first time he reached into my life outside the walls of our job. It was subtle, almost quiet, but intentional in a way that felt sincere. I had suspected he liked me, but that was the day I knew.

What struck me most was that he didn’t rush anything. He didn’t love-bomb me. He didn’t overwhelm me. He didn’t do the things so many men do when they’re trying to secure your attention without offering their own. Instead, he planted little seeds slowly, confidently, and without performance.

Somewhere in those early months, he took a trip that worried me. Not in the romantic, clingy sense, but genuinely. I didn’t sleep all night because I feared for his safety. And when I found myself wide awake, tracking his location, I realized that I cared for him in a way I had not cared for anyone in years.

I didn’t tell him that part right away. But that was the moment I knew I wasn’t just dating; I was choosing.

Introducing Them Without Introducing Them

Because Ava had met him as a teacher first, the earliest interactions were natural. She loved his classroom. The STEAM lab was colorful and curious and full of tiny experiments and gadgets that made her light up. Eddie always met her where she was; never performing for her attention, never insisting on a moment, just letting her be eight years old and enchanted by whatever she found interesting that day.

At that point, she knew him simply as Coach Ed. And that worked perfectly, because I still needed time to understand where this relationship was heading. But as Eddie and I became closer, shared more, and saw each other more regularly, the boundary between work-life Eddie and home-life Eddie started to thin. Eventually, he became woven into my daily rhythm: the person I talked to, the person I hung out with, the person who showed up consistently.

As our relationship deepened, hiding him from Ava became something I had to actively work at. It felt artificial, unnatural even. And more importantly, it signaled something I already knew but hadn’t admitted aloud: he wasn’t going anywhere.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous. In fact, my fears evolved. I worried about Ava feeling left out. I worried about her sensing a shift she didn’t ask for. I worried about Eddie discovering that dating a woman with a child came with layers most people don’t see from the outside.

Eddie had his own fears too—not about her, but about the dynamic with her biological father. Would he feel like he was stepping into something complicated? Would he have to compete for space or emotional attention? We had our share of disagreements about that, and I’ll tell that story in a separate post one day. But for now, what mattered was that we both cared enough to navigate it.

The Morning Everything Changed

The “official” introduction wasn’t magical or planned. It wasn’t something I orchestrated with Pinterest boards and intentional scripts. It was, instead, the kind of moment that only real life creates.

Eddie had spent the night. And Ava’s dad dropped her off earlier than expected.

There was no time to prepare. No time to finesse the moment. Suddenly, all three of us were in the same room, negotiating the awkwardness of an unexpected milestone. I kept it simple and calm.

“Ava, you remember Eddie, right? The STEAM teacher from my job?”

She nodded shyly. He offered a warm smile. And just like that, the moment passed without any tension or unraveling. It wasn’t the stuff Hallmark movies are made of, but it wasn’t chaotic or messy. It was real. And that was enough for me.

The Day It Truly Made Sense: The LA Zoo

The real turning point came later, during a trip to the LA Zoo. It was our first intentional outing as a trio. Sunlight, crowds, overpriced snacks, animals that somehow always manage to nap when you want them to do something interesting—it was the perfect backdrop for something new to take shape.

Ava was eight, which is such a tender age. She was old enough to be observant, yet young enough not to overthink. She moved between us with an ease that surprised me. She didn’t cling to me. She didn’t shut down. She simply existed as herself, and Eddie matched her well.

They talked about the animals. They shared little reactions. He pointed things out to her without trying to impress her. She showed him things she thought were cool without trying to win him over. There was no performance on either side; just a quiet, budding comfort.

After that, our conversations shifted. When I would check in with her, asking whether she still felt she had enough time with me or whether she was okay with him joining us, her answers softened. What began as, “I like him but I want just Mommy time,” slowly became, “I don’t mind if he comes,” and eventually turned into, “Is Eddie coming with us?!”

It was gentle, organic, and rooted in her own pace. I didn’t push anything, and neither did he.

What Surprised Me Most

The biggest surprise was how not dramatic the transition was. I had prepared myself for so many possibilities like resentment, withdrawal, or discomfort. But none of those things happened. Ava didn’t feel replaced or overshadowed. She didn’t cling tighter or pull away. She simply accepted this new rhythm in a way that made me exhale.

Eddie, too, found comfort in how naturally she fit into his life. He was surprised by how fun she was, how smart, how easy she was to be around. And every time we went out to eat together, I could see the shape of something forming that felt a lot like a family. The laughter, the back-and-forth teasing, and the little moments of connection were all reminders that this wasn’t forced. It wasn’t something we had to manufacture. It was something that unfolded because it was meant to.

And it taught me something I still hold close: with the person, the pieces don’t fall into place without effort. But the effort doesn’t feel like dragging or negotiating. It feels like harmony, alignment, home.

What Dating with a Child Taught Me

Dating with a child as a millennial mom comes with a particular kind of stigma. People assume your chances are slim. They insist men won’t want you. They reason your child is a burden, or that you’re “too complicated,” or that you should lower your standards. I had people tell me outright that my chances at real love were behind me.

I never believed them.

What I learned instead is that discernment becomes your anchor. You learn to see past chemistry and charm. You learn to distinguish consistency from convenience. You learn to pay attention to how a man respects your boundaries and your child’s needs. And you learn to trust your own readiness, to know when the person in front of you is someone your world can safely expand to include.

And if you choose the right man, something beautiful happens: the connection between your child and your partner grows beyond anything you could have orchestrated. It happens naturally, quietly, and in its own time.

For the Woman Who’s Wondering If This Can Happen for Her

If you’re a single mom wondering how you’ll ever introduce your child to someone new…or if love like this is even possible, I want to tell you what I wish someone had told me:

You are not disqualified.
You are not too much.
You are not “damaged goods.”

You are a whole woman, capable of love that is layered, mature, steady, and rich with meaning. And the right partner will not only accept your world, they will respect it, honor it, and grow with it.

Introduce your child only when you feel ready. Don’t rush it. Don’t force it. Don’t apologize for pacing yourself. And when you choose someone who is worthy of meeting the most sacred part of your life, let the moment unfold naturally. Trust the softness and yourself.

Sometimes, the fairy tale doesn’t arrive the way you imagined in your twenties. But it might arrive in a STEAM lab. Or over dinner conversations that start small. Or in the steady presence of someone who shows up again and again, enough that hiding him becomes harder than welcoming him in.

And when it happens, you will know. Truly know.

If this story resonated, share it with another mom who’s in the in-between of healing, hoping, and daring to believe in love again. And if you’ve been there yourself, I’d love to hear how you navigated your own introduction moment.

Leave a comment. Send a message. Or simply tuck this story away for when you need a reminder that your next chapter can be softer than the ones that came before.