Here’s a reality: I adore my mother.
And here’s another: I fear becoming her.
That might sound harsh or even ungrateful, especially considering what a remarkable parent she has been. She divorced my father when my brother and I were just three and five years old. He left and never looked back, while she raised us single-handedly. She juggled three jobs and ensured we never experienced hunger. She established boundaries and extended forgiveness. She encouraged us to strive for excellence.
In doing all this, she sacrificed every aspect of her own life for my brother and me. Rarely did she go out, pursue her passions, or create a space for herself beyond the label of “single mom.” She poured everything into us, leaving little room to build a foundation for her future as we grew into adults with our own lives.
Now that my brother and I have children of our own, she thrives on the stories and visits with her grandkids, which we try to arrange frequently. In the meantime, she occupies her time with quiet activities. However, she lacks meaningful friendships, hobbies, or dreams she wishes to chase now. Surprisingly, she shows no desire to change this. Often, she finds herself alone, content to wait for the next visit or update. From where I stand, it seems undeniably lonely.
Viewing her life gives me a disturbing glimpse of a future I might be rushing toward. And I’m terrified.
I recently separated from my children’s father. For various reasons, he is entirely out of the picture and will not be returning. Now, I am responsible for caring for my two daughters alone. Every need they have, from the financial to the emotional, rests on my shoulders. It eerily mirrors the life my mother led at roughly my current age.
This means I understand the immense effort a single mother must invest just to keep things afloat. I know the exact amount of blood, sweat, and tears required to raise two children to become decent human beings. It demands everything, and I am prepared to give it all—just as my mother did for my brother and me. My daughters deserve nothing less.
Yet, I can’t help but look at my mother’s life now and realize that I don’t want that future for myself. I dread the possibility of history repeating itself. I fear giving too much and ending up with nothing left. Even though her life suits her and she finds joy in it, after a lifetime of struggle, she deserves time to simply exist and shape her life as she wishes. Despite her apparent contentment, I know I wouldn’t feel the same.
I recognize the necessity of laying a foundation for my future—one that comes “after” my children have grown and are busy crafting their own lives. I need to invest time now in nurturing friendships for the future. I must allocate energy to building the life that will come later. This requires carving out time for myself, my interests, and my future—time my mother never claimed for herself while raising my brother and me.
So, how do I reconcile that? How can I give as much as she did without sacrificing everything she sacrificed? How do I strike that delicate, seemingly impossible balance?
I could give all I have and wait for my time to arrive in another decade. After all, life doesn’t end when the kids head off to college; in fact, many would argue it only starts getting better then.
However, patience has never been one of my strong suits.
Ultimately, my solution lies in abandoning the quest for balance. Embracing the truth that keeping a little bit of “me” means holding back and not sacrificing everything. In truth, motherhood shouldn’t be the ultimate sacrifice. You don’t have to give everything to be a great mom—even a single one—who raises wonderful children, sets rules, extends forgiveness, and encourages them to thrive.
Moreover, I must step back from the fear of becoming like my mother and instead allow her the grace and space to enjoy the life she’s living. She’s happy, filling her days with activities that bring her joy. Perhaps she is living the life she envisioned for herself.
I often think my mother stumbled into her current life by accident. The narrative I tell myself is that she didn’t realize that by giving us so much, she would have nothing left for herself. Yet, I never asked her if that was true. Maybe she was fully aware of her choices, doing what was best for both herself and her children.
If that’s the case, then perhaps I have much to learn from her.
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Summary:
This reflective piece explores the author’s love for her mother while grappling with the fear of replicating her life as a single parent. The author acknowledges their mother’s sacrifices and the loneliness that can come from devoting oneself entirely to raising children, emphasizing the importance of finding a balance between self-care and motherhood. Ultimately, the author seeks to learn from their mother’s experiences while striving to create a fulfilling life that includes personal interests and friendships.