More is Caught Than Taught: A Working Mom’s Journey

The image above freezes a moment I’ll never forget: my daughter, Giavanna, sitting down to sign her first opera contract for Opera Orlando. Watching her, I was overwhelmed—not just by her achievement but by the flood of memories that rushed in. Years of sacrifice, resilience, and love brought us to this moment.

Giavanna started gigging professionally at 16, but this felt different. This was her first opera contract—a tangible milestone marking her hard work and determination. As she confidently signed her name, I thought about all the moments that had shaped our journey: the late nights, the moves, the sacrifices. And, most of all, the moments I wasn’t sure I was doing enough—or feared I was doing too much.

A Life Turned Upside Down

By the time she turned 17, Giavanna had lived in 12 houses. Each move meant starting over—new schools, new friends, new routines. I worried constantly about how it would affect her. Would it be too much? Would the instability leave scars?

But looking back, I see how those transitions didn’t break her—they built her. She learned to adapt, to rise to challenges, and to find her footing no matter where life planted her. Each move, as hard as it was, strengthened her. She became resilient, confident, and unshakable.

The Christmas That Broke My Heart

Some moments, however, broke me. One of the hardest came when she was just four years old, in the aftermath of a divorce. Her stay-at-home dad had become my ex-husband, and almost overnight, her world was turned upside down. She went from a two-parent home to a single-mom household, with a nanny stepping in to help. I was her anchor, but I was also navigating the overwhelming demands of work, travel, and providing for our new life.

That December, her school was putting on a Christmas show. Giavanna had been practicing for weeks—her little face lit up whenever she talked about it. She couldn’t wait to stand on that stage, to sing her heart out, and to look into the audience to see me cheering her on.

But life had other plans. A last-minute “mandatory” corporate meeting in Tulsa left me with no choice: I couldn’t be there. My heart sank as I scrambled to find someone who could stand in for me. Thankfully, a kind woman—a grandmother figure to Giavanna—stepped up. She brought her a flower, promised to make her feel special, and even called me during the performance so I could hear the children sing.

That day, I excused myself from the meeting and sat on the bathroom floor of the corporate office, phone pressed to my ear, tears streaming down my face. I imagined the scene—children scanning the crowd, their eyes lighting up as they spotted their parents. And then I pictured Giavanna searching for me and seeing someone else. The guilt was unbearable. Her father’s absence had already shaken her life, and now I wasn’t there for her either. I felt like I was failing her in the one place I wanted to succeed most: being present when she needed me.

Resilience in the Face of Adversity

But what stands out most to me now isn’t my guilt—it’s Giavanna’s resilience. She didn’t let my absence define her or break her. She still performed, still smiled, and still gave it her all. She was grateful for her stand-in audience, the flowers, and the support—even though I knew she was sad I wasn’t there.

Looking back, I see how moments like that shaped her into the remarkable young woman she is today—resilient, confident, creative, and compassionate. Those moves, those hard moments, didn’t crush her. They prepared her for the challenges and opportunities she faces now.

Reclaiming My Priorities

For years, guilt was my constant companion. As a corporate executive traveling weekly and earning my MBA as a single mom, my days were packed with meetings, deadlines, and endless to-do lists. Nights were spent at the dining table, finishing work or studying after I’d put her to bed. Weekends weren’t much better—she’d patiently wait for me to finish my homework before we could play. I wanted to give her everything, but I was stretched too thin. I pushed myself beyond exhaustion, running on hope, coffee, and a deep desire to make her life better.

When Giavanna turned seven, I left my corporate role and started my own business. The grind didn’t stop—it never does—but now, I made the rules. No more missing the things that mattered most. No more sacrificing my presence for someone else’s priorities. Owning my business allowed me to reclaim my time and make her my focus.

The Fruits of Sacrifice

Today, when I look at Giavanna, I see the fruits of those hard years. She’s the president of the Arts & Athletics Leadership Committee, a leader with Fellowship for Christian Athletes, and was named Conservatory Student of the Year as a sophomore. She’s been performing professionally since she was 16 and was the first performing arts student to receive the Francisco Lindor Scholarship at her school.

But what fills me with the most pride isn’t her accolades. It’s her kindness, confidence, work ethic and unwavering belief in herself.

She didn’t just learn these things by chance. She caught them—from watching me persevere, juggle priorities, and rise in the face of adversity. More is caught than taught, and Giavanna caught every lesson I didn’t even realize I was teaching her.

To Every Working Parent

To every working parent carrying the weight of guilt, wondering if you’re doing enough: You are. Your children see you. They see your love, your effort, and your sacrifices. They are catching the lessons you may not even realize you’re teaching.

As I prepare to watch Giavanna graduate high school and move on to college, I can’t help but reflect on how quickly time has passed. One thing I know for sure: you will never regret not working enough, but you may likely regret not spending enough time with your loved ones. The moments we pour into them, even amidst the chaos, are the moments that matter most.

If I could go back to that mom crying on the bathroom floor in Tulsa, phone pressed to her ear, overwhelmed with guilt, I’d wrap my arms around her and say: Keep going. It’s worth it. Every late night, every tear, every sacrifice is planting seeds that will bloom in time. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough.

Because the truth is, what our children need most isn’t perfection—it’s love. When we freely give this, it is the water they need to grow.

Giavanna’s story is a testament to what happens when we keep showing up, keep believing, and keep making our children our priority. The guilt may never fully go away, but when you look at your child and see the person they’ve become, you’ll know: It was all worth it.