My name is Cheryl. This is why I built this.
One mother's story of abandonment, survival, and refusing to stay silent, and the platform she built so no mother ever has to feel alone again.
“I built Unsilenced Mothers because nobody built it for me. And I needed it.”
Where This Began
I became a mother at fifteen years old. By the time I was twenty, I had given birth to two daughters and a son. My early childhood was a mix of laughter, love, and the kind of pain I kept buried for years. For most of my life, I lived with my grandparents. My grandmother passed away when I was around ten or eleven, and from that point forward, the world shifted.
“My childhood was a mix of love, loss, and wounds I carried in silence.”
My mother, as I knew her, was what I call a pretender. Outgoing, funny, and in the eyes of others, a woman who loved her children. But behind closed doors, there was a darker side to her soul. I grew up with extremely low self‑esteem because, as a young girl in elementary school, she spewed one of the most undeserving, soul‑crushing phrases a child could hear:
“With your fat four‑eyed ass.”
My little spirit lost its light that day. There were also long stretches where I was left alone, hungry, and forgotten. Now, as a mother myself, I cannot imagine ever saying something so damaging to any of my children.
My father was absent. For years, I believed my mother’s first husband was my real father. He was kind, gentle, and loving toward me. Then one day, my mother told me a man I barely knew was actually my father. That reunion was short‑lived. Neither of my parents contributed much to the woman I became. Their absence shaped me more than their presence ever did.
My grandfather, who had only a fifth‑grade education and could not read or write, was the one who nurtured my soul. His love was simple but steady. In many ways, I became his caregiver long before I understood what caregiving meant.
“I learned love from my grandfather, not my parents.”
I went to college off and on for years, stopping, starting, surviving, rebuilding, because I refused to give up on myself even when everything around me said I should. In 2012, I finally earned my associate’s degree. For a moment, things were looking up.
Then my mother passed away five months later.
Within months, I assumed legal guardianship of my sister, who has autism spectrum disorder. I also took responsibility for my visually impaired sibling and my eighteen‑year‑old brother. My own children and grandchildren still needed me. I felt like I was submerged underwater with chains around my feet. I was doing all of it alone, with no partner, no elder family members, no support system. Just me. No time to breathe, no financial resources, just more weight added to my shoulders. Every time hope appeared, it faded again, like fog rolling in to block the path to the life I was trying to reach.
In 2016, my youngest daughter was born. At age three, she was diagnosed with autism and expressive and receptive language disorder. I have not spoken to her father since the day I told him about her diagnosis. I navigated every part of her journey alone, afraid, depressed, overwhelmed, but determined. I coordinated her therapists, doctors, IEP meetings, specialists, and every detail of her care while still caring for my sister and managing everything else.
“I carried everyone, my children, my siblings, my pain, and still kept going.”
In 2022, I lost the beautiful home I had purchased with cash, the place I thought would finally give my children stability. I could not keep up with the property taxes while drowning under the weight of everything I was carrying. Losing that home shattered me. All I had left were the memories.
But I kept going.
I went back to school again. And in May 2026, I walked across the stage at the University of Missouri–St. Louis and received my Bachelor of Science in Business Administration. My children and grandchildren watched me walk. They witnessed my perseverance. Nobody can ever take that from me.
Cheryl House is a single mother, a caregiver, a BSBA graduate, and a woman who has survived more than most people will ever know.
She is the founder of ReignHouse Media LLC and the Unsilenced Mothers Podcast. She has spent over a decade navigating healthcare systems, special needs advocacy, financial hardship, and the daily reality of doing everything alone.
While raising her children, caring for her siblings, fighting through loss, and rebuilding her life again and again, Unsilenced Mothers was born, because she believes no mother should have to carry her story in silence. If you are here, you belong here.
She is not speaking from a place of having figured it all out. She is speaking from the middle of the journey, still building, still learning, and still rising.
“Together we overcome. We persevere. We prevail.”
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Why Unsilenced Mothers Exist
I built this platform because I know what it feels like to be invisible.
I know what it feels like to sit in a waiting room alone while your child has therapy. To lie awake at night worrying about rent. To have nobody call and ask if you are okay. To carry grief, exhaustion, and financial pressure simultaneously while the world keeps moving like none of it is happening.
I know what it feels like when the father of your child simply disappears, and the world expects you to just keep going. And you do. Because you have no choice. But the weight of it never leaves
“Unsilenced Mothers is the space I wish had existed for me.”
Unsilenced Mothers is a podcast, a community, and a platform where mothers can speak their truth without shame, find resources that actually help, and hear stories from women who understand because they are living it too.
You are not weak. You are not failing. You are not alone.
You are simply unsilenced now.
Our Mission
🎙️ Real Stories 💜 Community 💪 Financial Independence 🌱 Healing and Growth 🔒 Safety and Privacy
Are you ready to be unsilenced?
Listen to our latest episode. Share your story. Join our community. You belong here.