Sometimes I find myself pondering the question: Am I really a solo parent?
At first glance, it might seem like I am, but the reality is a bit more complex. After my divorce, when someone labeled me a single mom, I paused in disbelief. Me? A single mom? No way! I live in a lovely apartment in a safe neighborhood, my kids are thriving in school, and we’re not scraping by. My ex-husband and I share custody. Sure, there are moments I wish he would vanish, but he’s definitely not absent.
Today, the definition of single motherhood can feel like a sliding scale. No divorced mom I know has it easy, and while it’s tough to quantify emotional struggles, we often compare our situations. I recognize that my challenges aren’t as severe as some, and I would never claim otherwise.
Many single moms face incredible hardships, working multiple jobs to keep food on the table. They often manage tight budgets, and their kids, at best, might be considered latchkey kids. I’ve witnessed public figures commend these resilient women for overcoming adversity, escaping difficult circumstances, and doing it all independently. They deserve every accolade.
Take my friend Sarah, for instance. After her ex moved across the country, she became the sole parent. Apart from a few weeks annually when her son visits his dad, she handles everything. She works tirelessly to support both herself and her child, lacking any financial cushion from a divorce settlement. To me, she exemplifies a single mom.
Then there’s Emily, who can barely communicate with her ex-husband. Their co-parenting situation is fraught with challenges, and she shoulders the emotional weight of parenting alone.
So, where does that leave me? While my ex and I are not perfect partners in parenting, we do manage to co-parent. Our conversations often revolve around calendars and logistics, but when deeper issues arise, we strive to connect beyond merely deciding who takes the kids to the birthday party. We’re not there yet, but it’s a goal. Plus, I have a boyfriend now, which adds another layer. So while I identify as single, I’m not entirely alone. I’m fortunate to have family and friends who lend support whenever I need it.
In many ways, I’m not clinging to a lifeline; I’m doing okay. So, I wouldn’t label myself as a solo parent.
However, I’m not married to my children’s father, and our relationship is far from romantic—there isn’t even a friendship yet. I bear the weight of their worries, joys, successes, and failures alone. When I’m unwell, it’s solely my responsibility to care for the kids. If they fall ill, I’m still on my own. When I’m missing my son during his first week of camp, I can’t turn to the one person who understands my feelings. And when my daughter bursts into the kitchen in a wacky costume, belting out a Taylor Swift song, there’s no one to share that laughter with. I’m emotionally accountable for them all the time, and physically responsible half the time, with no shared moments with their father.
I may not know everything, but this much is clear: I’m divorced, I’m single, I’m a mom, and I’ve never been fond of labels.
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In conclusion, while the term “single mom” can encompass a wide range of experiences, my situation is multifaceted. I may not fit the traditional mold, but I embrace my journey as a proud, independent parent.