I didn’t plan on being a single parent. It just happened. I know there’s women out there who have chosen to become solo mother mothers and to you I say: You are my heroes. Seriously.
When I found out I was pregnant, panic was far from what I felt. I had wrapped my head around it and thought I was prepared for my solo mission. Then reality happened. The day I came home from the hospital I cried. Like really cried. Somehow all that preparedness I thought I had was completely gone and I was suddenly very aware of just how hard this solo mission was going to be.
That being said fellow single mama’s, it does somehow become second nature. Don’t get me wrong, there isn’t a moment when I’m alone, no peaceful pooping time or silent reflection after a long day but I wouldn’t exchange that for the bond I’ve forged with my son.
It’s sort of like turning 30. I remember my 30th birthday and how great I felt. I didn’t feel old or immense sadness at reaching this milestone. There was this overall badass feeling. This untouchable attitude that no one could mess with me or tell me what to do, I officially felt like an adult that did not have a life curfew.
Being a single mom feels the same in so many ways. I get to teach this little kid ANYTHING I want. I don’t have to consult any other authority and part of me loves that. No arguments over deciding what to teach him, what to feed him, or what’s deemed age appropriate as he grows. Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely times when I crave another person to share the responsibility with. Responsibility which can sometimes suck the life out of me.
Other mothers advised me of how much easier it gets but after 8 years of solo parenting, I object. Single momming is hard. It is the hardest thing I will probably ever have to do. I’ve just learned to navigate through ALL of the unexpected backroads I’ve taken as a single mom the best that I can versus using my carefully highlighted roadmap that was somehow lost in 39 weeks.