I’m a single mother. There it is, plain and simple. Yet those few words fail to capture the overwhelming gray area that accompanies them: I am a single mom. This statement glosses over the heartache, sacrifices, guilt, shame, bitterness, loneliness, and the endless cycle of uncertainty, sadness, and madness that characterize my journey into single parenthood. It feels like a hidden truth I carry, one I shield from the world. If you were to scroll through my social media, you’d never suspect the reality I live. Even my pediatrician is unaware that the father is absent from my son’s life; only my family and closest friends know the truth. Emotionally, I remain in denial, still holding onto love for him and praying each day for the day we can be a family again. I wish I could numb those feelings, yet I never want to stop loving the father of my child. It’s a strange contradiction. I am a well-educated, self-sufficient, vibrant woman, and I recognize this fact. I don’t need him; I want him. I love him deeply, just as my son shares his smile.
When my relationship fell apart, I relocated to a new town seeking family support. This wasn’t my hometown; it was unfamiliar territory. As a work-from-home single mom, I found myself isolated, with little chance for adult interaction. So, I did something I never imagined I would: I joined a local mothers’ group. As an introvert, my first meet-up was filled with anxiety—getting ready felt like a mix of a blind date and the first day at a new school where everyone else already knows each other. I even texted my best friend about my outfit.
Then came the moment that I had dreaded. When someone asked if I had family nearby, I had the perfect opportunity to reveal my single-mom status, and I froze. Instead of admitting that I moved for support after a failed relationship, I awkwardly fabricated a story about living with my boyfriend. I flat-out lied to the other moms, and they looked at me quizzically because my response was completely off the mark. I just couldn’t bring myself to say, “Hi, I’m currently struggling. I’m a single mom.”
I know I should feel proud of how I’m managing everything alone. I should take pride in knowing every single one of my son’s countless books by heart, having read them repeatedly. I should feel accomplished that I can interpret every giggle, grunt, whine, and cry from him. I should celebrate the way he frequently pulls my face in for kisses. I should feel proud that I stay awake long after he’s asleep, eager to watch him enjoy his breakfast, despite the exhaustion. I should take pride in enduring the sleepless nights when teething makes him dependent on nursing to find rest. I should feel grateful for being present in every joyful moment and the challenging ones too. I am there for him.
The day will come when seeing traditional families playing at the park doesn’t break my heart. The day will arrive when I no longer feel like my son is missing out. I will no longer feel like an outsider in the motherhood community. The guilt will eventually fade, and I will stop questioning what could have been. Peace will return to my heart. I am getting there.
This experience has made me a stronger person. My son is fortunate to be spared from a home filled with conflict and negativity. Looking into his bright, inquisitive eyes gives me immense strength. It’s been nearly a year since my life changed, and although it’s becoming easier, it’s still far from easy. I am a single mom, and one day, I’ll be ready to share my story with the world.
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Summary:
The journey of single motherhood is filled with complexities and emotional challenges that often remain hidden from public view. The author reflects on her struggles with identity, loneliness, and the desire for connection, while also acknowledging her strength and capabilities as a parent. Despite the heartache of her situation, she finds hope for the future and strength in her love for her child.