I receive the “daddy question” about once a week. When I first encountered it, I felt a wave of discomfort wash over me. My mind raced with worries—if I didn’t answer perfectly, my children might end up in therapy years later, grappling with the emotional ramifications of my inadequacy. I envisioned myself explaining my hesitation to a therapist, unsure of how to address the enigmatic “daddy question.”
Fast forward to now, and I’ve changed my perspective entirely. I’ve come to understand that there are myriad reasons my children might seek therapy, and this question no longer ranks among the top concerns. I’ve even devised several responses, my favorite being, “It takes time to find someone special enough to be your daddy.”
When they were younger, my kids couldn’t grasp the complexities behind that question. They likely thought I could just stroll down to the nearest store, pick out a dad, and bring him home. Now that they are six, they realize it’s much more intricate. They understand the concepts of marriage and the importance of love between a mommy and daddy. Recently, they’ve taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker for me.
Last year, my son excitedly informed me that his friend had an uncle boasting a beard, a jeep, and a jet pack. To him, that seemingly fulfilled all his criteria for a father figure. I was intrigued by the mention of a jet pack but felt it best to let that one slide.
This past weekend, my children had the brilliant idea of setting me up with the local juggler. My son was convinced that having a juggling dad would elevate his social status among his friends. He even spun an elaborate tale about how impressive it would be to show off his new dad. My daughter was equally enthusiastic. I breathed a sigh of relief when the juggler didn’t show up at our church event; I could just picture my kids shouting, “Do you want to marry my mommy?” mid-performance.
While my kids can be a bit overzealous, I can’t deny that after five years of singlehood, I feel like a bit of a lost cause. I empathize with other single mothers trying to balance a hectic family schedule with the demands of dating. However, there’s an additional challenge I can’t resolve with a well-organized calendar or a reliable babysitter. My past leaves me with a nagging question: Am I capable of opening my heart to a partner, or has too much damage been done?
This is something I ponder often. I know I’m capable of love; I have two wonderful children whom I cherish unconditionally. I’ve also managed to build trust with a few people and maintain solid professional relationships. Nevertheless, intimacy is a different beast altogether. It brings me back to my original wounds, and let’s be fair—intimacy can be challenging for anyone, especially those who faced trauma in their past.
Some people find my single status puzzling. Many don’t understand why I’m choosing to wait. A few friends joke that I might be a lesbian, hinting at the societal notion that women don’t willingly embrace singlehood. I did briefly consider pursuing a same-sex relationship, thinking it might be a smoother path after my childhood experiences. However, two realizations shifted my perspective: first, a healthy connection with anyone demands trust and vulnerability; second, David Beckham’s underwear commercials are hard to ignore.
So, for the time being, I wait. I’m actively working on my ability to trust and open up to others. I continue to practice saying no when the wrong people come into my life. I stand firm in my newfound strength and express my evolving voice. I’m learning patience and acceptance of my current situation. And I hold onto hope that one day, I will be able to say yes.
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In summary, the “daddy question” has evolved from a source of anxiety to a conversation starter about love and relationships. As I navigate single motherhood, I remain committed to personal growth and the possibility of opening my heart again.