I got pregnant at 18, and my father doubted I could study and raise a child. I proved him wrong.

• Growing up I always felt like I was walking on eggshells in my Mexican household.
• I got pregnant at 18 and my mom allowed my dad to yell at me about his disappoiment.

My relationship with my father has always been rocky, to say the least. Having been raised in a patriarch-dominant Mexican household, where a man's word is law, my place as a female was made clear from the very beginning. As a young girl, I felt as though I was constantly walking on eggshells, careful never to be too opinionated and to do as I was told, especially to help my mother clean and watch over my little brothers.

My father has always been a proud, authoritative figure whose booming voice could make anyone shudder, whether he was angry or in a good mood. In my teenage years, when I became more aware of the unfairness of gender roles in the family, I would occasionally talk back to him, though I was cautious not to overstep further, reluctantly letting him win every war.

When I found myself pregnant at 18 and just about to enter my sophomore year of college, I felt my life spiraling and hoped my parents would be the safety net I was used to falling on. But it was not a shock that my father became furious at the news, given the strict religious morals I had grown up with and my unmarried state. My mother was also shocked and allowed my father to scream at me about the disappointment and disrespect I had just caused.

I felt like a failure

The words he spoke were amplified by my own feelings of failure. Sure, I was too young and not ready to be a mother, but had what I done been truly that terrible? When he finally calmed down enough, he uttered some of the most scarring words that still cause old wounds to flare: he gave me the ultimatum of quitting school to raise my baby or be on my own. "You can't do both," he announced with finality, "You can't raise a baby and finish school; you just can't!"

The pain these words caused was indescribable at the time. How could he doubt his own daughter in such a way? Wasn't family supposed to build each other up during difficult moments? In my head, I was divided. While one part thought my father might be right, that I should give up, another voice was angrily shouting, "I can do it, and I'll show you!" For the next few years, every time my father reminded me that I should be focusing on being a mother only, I made sure to study even harder while still making time to nurture my daughter the best I could. My anger eventually became determination.

Becoming a grandfather changed him

By the time I finished college, my relationship with my father had taken a different turn. Becoming a grandfather had changed him. Seeing him be silly with my daughter proved to me that he had a gentle side I knew nothing about. Although we still disagreed on everything, we went from hardly speaking to each other to being able to sit down and having small conversations where I slowly started to feel he cared for my opinions.

Ten years later, I can look back on this time when my father doubted my abilities to be anything other than a mother, and instead of feeling anger, I feel a sense of gratitude. Had he not pushed me to prove him wrong, I might have taken a different path and not worked as hard. Regardless of the stern parenting that I felt was cruel sometimes, my father never stopped being that safety net for my siblings and me.

I don't always like the idea behind "tough love," but I've finally been able to see that this was my father's form of love all along. I think if he really had meant I'd be on my own, he wouldn't have stayed around to see me accomplish my goals of graduating with honors, traveling, and going on to win a writing fellowship in my mid-20s, all while being a mother. I like to think he was silently cheering me on the whole time. But even if he hadn't, his doubt was what I needed to push me past my own insecurities.

After years of opposition, we've also finally been able to connect through our mutual love of books, music, and, of course, my kids. Even as I approach my 30s and being stubbornly independent, I still seek out my father's support at times. I'm grateful for the lessons I've learned from him, about what it takes to be resilient and turning your circumstances around. They are lessons I will pass onto my daughters, minus the tough love.