• My child was born in 2020, and our rent went up significantly from people moving to our town.
• My husband and I were living paycheck to paycheck by 2024.
• At 31, I dismantled my retirement to pay for school for my son.

All I have ever wanted to do is work hard for a good future. I was born into and raised by people who struggled to set goals and provide for their kids, so I knew I wanted something better for my own when I decided to settle down. Unfortunately, to give my son the best future possible, I had to give up any concept of retiring.

I was 27 when my partner and I, freshly married, decided to start our family. We'd done the entire checklist that we had been told would promise success. We both went to college, we got jobs in stable career fields, and built up savings and stability before getting married. By 2019, we felt ready to tie the knot, and by the end of the year, I was so baby hungry I already had a tote of little clothes tucked away in a bin in my office.

But 2019 was a very different time. I was working in technology as a hardware specialist for a local school district, my partner was a teacher. Our rent was $1150 for a three-bedroom house in a nice part of town. We were more than stable, very ready to buy a home, and content in our careers.

I became a parent in 2020

We found out we were pregnant the week of the shutdown in 2020. I remember thinking that people had raised kids during the 2008 recession. This was just some strange blip, a moment in time. It would end, and we'd move on.

Weeks stretched into months. I was forced to step away from my job as the demands of getting technology out to school districts became too taxing while pregnant. I had to start taking gig work as a writer, something I had never done before, to keep our finances stable. Wipes and diapers were impossible to find; there was no baby furniture, and I felt guilty buying anything before I had a person who could use it.

My son was born in November of 2020, and what followed were the hardest years of our lives. The price of everything skyrocketed. People began flocking to Boise, Idaho, where we have lived our whole lives. Our rent went from $1150 to $2200 in just three years. Formula shortages made every box cost as much as a tank of gas. Groceries ballooned in price. Any hope we had of buying a house began to bleed away alongside our savings.

I picked my son's education over retirement

Despite picking up an extra job, working grueling hours as an editor for entertainment publications, and cutting almost every enjoyable element of our lives away, by 2024, we were barely making it paycheck to paycheck.

We lowered costs by keeping my son home, avoiding day care bills, but that meant working around him and effectively isolating him from other children his age.

By the summer, we knew he would need to attend preschool, but there aren't free options for that in Boise. We were going to have to pay tuition, and we just weren't sure where it was going to come from. Unfortunately, all the scholarship and hardship assistance for pre-school programs in Idaho still function on income data from five years ago. It doesn't take into account the effects of inflation, unmanageable housing costs, or stagnated wages.

In July 2024, I filled out the paperwork to withdraw my retirement savings from my 401(k). My family and friends asked me why I would do something like that. Didn't I want to retire?

I explained that there was nothing in my future if there was nothing in his. My son will always come first, even if I have to work until I'm dead.

We can't have any more kids

Shockingly, I don't regret dismantling my retirement at 31 for my child's preschool tuition. What I truly regret is knowing that we can't have any other children. I only had one savings fund. I can't empty another for a second baby.

I'd always seen myself as the mother of a little clutter of children. I've dreamed of having a family since I was very young. But it's not possible. I won't ever have more children, because doing so while the cost of living is what it is, would force my son and any future siblings to miss out, just so I could hug more babies. It's not fair to him, and it wouldn't be fair to any others.

I will never regret sacrificing for my child, but the grief of a life abruptly thrown off course has been difficult to navigate. I often wake up and ask myself, "What could I have done better?"

My goal now is to do everything I can for my son, to give him everything I have, even if it isn't fair. I hope that when he comes of age and enters the world, it will be a kinder place. I dream that he won't have to sacrifice so much to be safe and secure, and that he will have all the comfort and security we have lost.

He deserves to dream and, for me, that matters more than retiring. It's just such a shame that these are the choices so many parents are currently having to face.

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• Maddy DeVita was working in healthcare before surprising herself and working on an Italian farm.
• DeVita said a string of rejections gave her the bravery to send a shot-in-the-dark DM.
• Now, she has a career she never imagined as a private chef and content creator in New York City.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Maddy DeVita, 26, a private chef and content creator based in New York City. It has been edited for length and clarity.

For me, the spring of 2022 was spent applying to pretty much every job under the sun that I was remotely interested in. I had been working at a global health nonprofit since graduating from college during the pandemic, but realized that, despite always thinking I'd go into medicine, I actually wanted to work in food. My cover letter was sparse — I didn't have any professional experience, I just loved to cook, and was a halfway knowledgeable home chef.

The search felt endless. I interviewed at World Central Kitchen and never heard back. I tried test kitchens, like Food52, to no avail. At one point, I decided to try going into management consulting, because I'd at least make a lot of money. Rejections kept rolling into my inbox, and I reached a breaking point.

A string of rejections made me braver

But the rejections also made me bold — what else did I have to lose? What's something crazier I could try? I was so used to getting nos, so one more wasn't going to make much of a difference.

I'd been following a small Italian farm, Ebbio, on Instagram for a while, so I sent them a DM to see if there was any way to work together. They read it but didn't respond, but I weirdly wasn't deterred. I'd been turned away from so many jobs at that point, so I figured I'd just pitch myself to them once more.

And this time, it worked. They responded and said they were working on a cookbook project and that they'd love to have me help. By early August, I'd booked a flight to Italy and put in my two weeks' notice.

Quitting was never part of my plan

It's not like I woke up one day and decided to quit my job. In fact, as the supremely logical oldest of three girls, I never thought I'd quit without a clear career plan. If I'd gotten an offer from any of the more practical jobs I'd applied to, I probably would've taken it.

So many people are stuck in the thought loop I was in: "Oh my gosh, I want to do this, but it will never happen," or "I'm not the type of person who would do this." I learned, though, that there's actually a narrow pool of people who actually go after the crazy idea, so your odds of getting what you want might be better than you'd first think.

After spending six weeks on the farm and getting back to New York, I enrolled in culinary school and started private chefing for clients in the city after graduating. I kept posting content on my food Instagram, HandMeTheFork, which had mainly consisted of filtered photos of avocado toast when I first started my frantic job search.

Listening to my gut gave me the life I love now

I spent most of the past two years cooking consistently for families — getting embedded in their homes, spending a summer out in the Hamptons, making everything from meal-prepped lunches to Sunday dinner — but I don't do that as much these days, since I'm starting to earn money from my online content. Now, I'm doing more one-off, larger dinner parties and figuring out how to manage the world of social media, so my schedule is way more flexible.

If I'm not cooking for an event and I'm feeling disciplined, I'll start my day with a Barry's Bootcamp-style workout class, which kicks my butt. I'll then do my admin work at a café in my Brooklyn neighborhood, likely while listening to bossa nova music, my current obsession. After finishing up any video or Substack editing and recipe planning, I'll go grocery shopping, ideally at the farmers market.

The afternoon is usually filled with recipe testing and filming content, and I actually try to limit my social media time to the midday hours. Evening means cooking dinner for myself and my fiancée, and doing some more editing. All along, I've just wanted days that are dynamic, that are always different, and I've found that.

Listening to my gut has been my north star these past few years, though it often feels like my brain has to catch up to my instincts. I haven't made decisions based on right or wrong, or the next most practical career step, but instead based on what I'm called to do in the moment. Of course, I've gotten lucky, but I'm so glad that I've led with what I feel pulled to internally.

While at my college reunion a few months ago, I saw a ton of friends who were in my pre-med class, some of whom have finished med school and are fully doctors. It was such a surreal experience, realizing that could have easily been me, but that, despite my early expectations, it's not my life at all.

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