Today was one of those days when the absence of my dad felt especially heavy. I had a doctor’s appointment where I discussed some minor health concerns and shared my aspirations for the future. All I wanted was to call him and share the news. We used to chat multiple times a day—sure, a lot of that was playful bickering—but he was always in the loop about my life. He was the first person I reached out to after every prenatal check-up during my pregnancy. He affectionately nicknamed my son, Leo, “Ocho” after seeing an early ultrasound where he resembled the number eight. It’s surreal to think that the little boy I used to update my dad about constantly just celebrated his third birthday. My dad wasn’t there for that milestone.
I’m among the many parents who are raising children without the guidance or support of their own parents. My mother passed away on December 13, 2008, just a few months after I graduated from college and tied the knot. She was only 50 and succumbed to liver failure after a long battle with alcoholism. Due to her addiction, I had kept my distance during her final years, but we reconciled before she passed. I was there to witness her take her last breath. Just days before, she expressed regret over not being there enough for me and shared her dreams of having her own home, a dog, and a closer relationship with me. I reassured her that I had turned out okay and asked if she thought I’d make a good mother (she did). I wasn’t entirely convinced that I was okay or that I would be a good mom, but I held onto the belief as best I could.
My dad followed suit, passing away nearly two years later on December 15, 2010. He was 70 and struggled with kidney failure, heart issues, liver problems, and a host of other ailments. He and my mother had divorced years before, so I grew up with him partly in Arizona, partly in Colorado, and partly in his own world. Any addictions he might have had were long behind him by the time I was born, but he could be both loving and tough. We talked daily and often clashed, yet I felt a deeper connection as I matured. He attended my college graduation and met my son just months before he passed, which I am eternally grateful for.
As you can see, Leo was born in the midst of my parents’ passing. My life unfolded like a cycle of loss and new beginnings—death, life, death. Alongside graduating college, getting married, purchasing our first home, and starting our careers, my husband and I have faced more than I care to remember in just a few short years. But let’s get back to the main point: parenting without parents.
Raising a child without my own parents can feel isolating. I can’t send my mom pictures of Leo or call my dad when he accomplishes something new. As he grows, his grandparents will be my husband’s parents, while mine will be merely a memory—“my parents died before I was born.” To complicate matters, my mother’s alcoholism makes me uncertain about how involved she would have been even if she were still here. My dad, who struggled with his health, wasn’t exactly hands-on either. But now that they’re gone, pondering the “what ifs” seems pointless. I strive to keep their memory alive through photos—images of my mom when she was vibrant and healthy, and snapshots of my dad cradling Leo as an infant. I’ll tell Leo about the love his grandpa had for him and how his grandma believed in me. I’ll also make sure he’s aware of our family’s history with addiction, encouraging him to live responsibly and thoughtfully. The nitty-gritty details? Not necessary in my view. And how do I explain death to a curious child? That remains a mystery.
On a brighter note, parenting without my parents—or siblings, for that matter—provides a unique opportunity to embrace love on behalf of myself and Leo. My in-laws are incredible grandparents and live just a short walk away. His G-Ma (my mother-in-law) spends several days a week with him, while G-Pa (my father-in-law) and Leo are weekend warriors together at the local children’s museum and play areas. My aunt (my mother’s sister) stepped in, offering to be a grandma figure, a role her grandkids and Leo affectionately call her Mimi. There’s also my sister-in-law, thrilled to take Leo on his first trip to Disneyland, along with numerous honorary aunts and uncles who adore and spoil him. While I may not be able to text my parents photos of Leo, my supportive family and friends receive updates on his every move! When I need parenting advice, the first person I turn to is his G-Ma.
Many children grow up without one or both grandparents, and Leo will view it as his normal. His grandparents are my husband’s parents; Mimi is in Mesa with his cousins. The real challenge lies in my acceptance of this new normal. Like all parenting journeys, it involves embracing the darker moments while being grateful for the hidden blessings.
Will my dad ever take Leo fishing? No, but he left behind a blue kid’s fishing pole that I plan to dust off when the time is right. There’s also a pink one—because, well, life is unpredictable!
For more insight on the challenges and triumphs of parenting without traditional family support, check out this blog post. If you’re on a fertility journey, you might want to explore this reputable online retailer for at-home insemination kits. Additionally, the Genetics and IVF Institute offers excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, while parenting without the guidance of grandparents can be challenging, it is also filled with opportunities for love, support, and creating lasting memories. Embracing the journey, both the ups and the downs, is what makes it all worthwhile.
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