Am I a single mom? Well, yes and no. It’s a complicated question, and honestly, I find myself feeling a little confused about it too.
When my marriage ended, a friend labeled me a single mom, and I was taken aback. Me? A single mom? I live in a cozy apartment in a decent neighborhood. My kids are receiving a quality education, and we aren’t struggling financially. Their father, my ex, shares custody. While there are days I wish he’d just disappear, he is far from absent.
These days, the definition of single motherhood seems to be on a spectrum. No divorced mother I know has an easy path, and while it’s challenging to quantify emotional turmoil, there are ways we can reflect on our experiences. I recognize that I’m not facing the same struggles as some single moms, and I won’t pretend otherwise.
There are single moms who are working tirelessly to keep food on the table, living paycheck to paycheck, and their children often fall into the category of latchkey kids. These incredible women navigate through multiple jobs, and I’ve seen athletes and celebrities commend them for overcoming adversity. They deserve all the praise for their resilience.
Take my friend Lisa, for example. Her ex moved to another state, and aside from a couple of weeks a year when their son visits him, she is the sole parent every single day and night. She works hard to support both herself and her child. There’s no safety net or divorce settlement to rely on. She is a true single mom.
Then there’s my friend Sarah, who can’t co-parent with her ex due to a lack of communication. She bears the emotional weight of raising her kids alone.
So, where does that leave me? My ex and I, while not perfect, manage a form of co-parenting. It often revolves around schedules, but we do attempt to address deeper issues when they arise. I’m hopeful we’ll get to a point where we can discuss more than just who’s taking the kids to the next birthday party. Plus, I have a boyfriend now, so while I identify as single, that label feels a bit off. I also have a supportive circle of family and friends who offer their help and companionship.
In reality, I’m not clinging to a life raft; I’m doing okay. So, in a way, I don’t fit the traditional definition of a single mom.
But then again, I’m not married to my kids’ father, and we’re not in a romantic relationship. I carry the weight of parenting—the worries, fears, joys, and responsibilities—both emotionally and physically. When I’m under the weather and have the kids, it’s all on me. If they get sick while I’m with them, it’s still on me. When I miss my son during his first week at camp, I can’t turn to the one person who understands that feeling as deeply as I do. And when my daughter bursts into the kitchen in a hilarious costume, I can’t share that joy with her dad. I’m fully accountable for their well-being 100% of the time, even if I share physical custody 50% of the time.
So while I may not fit neatly into the single mom category, I do know this for certain: I’m divorced, I’m single, I’m a mom, and I’ve never been fond of labels. If you’re looking for more insights on single motherhood, check out this post on Cervical Insemination. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, you can find reputable kits at Make a Mom. For those dealing with infertility, the ACOG website provides excellent resources.
In summary, the journey of single motherhood is unique for everyone. While I may not fit the conventional mold, I certainly navigate my own challenges and triumphs as a single parent.
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