On Christmas morning, I found myself nestled in bed with my son, Oliver, who was just shy of turning three. He was engrossed in cartoons on my tablet while I flipped through the pages of a novel. This year marked a significant milestone; it was his first Christmas that he would likely remember. I convinced myself that holidays didn’t hold much significance for me and that I wouldn’t get swept up in the commercialized chaos that often accompanied them. I told myself this repeatedly, but deep down, I was avoiding a deeper truth.
Becoming a single parent was never part of my plan. I had envisioned a life filled with stability and a loving partnership. The thought of divorce was unimaginable. Yet, circumstances changed, and I realized that leaving was the healthiest choice for both Oliver and me. Walking out the door with my son clinging to me felt like the right move, even amidst the chaos.
In those early months of single motherhood, I would lay beside Oliver every night, helping him drift off to sleep. Watching him surrender to slumber, I felt a profound sense of love wash over me. Each night, I marveled at how lucky I was to be his mother, yet I couldn’t shake the nagging feelings of inadequacy. The guilt weighed heavily on me; I wished I could provide him with more—more security, more financial stability, a traditional family.
Having grown up in a conventional household with both parents still married, I often reflected on my upbringing. My childhood was filled with the comforts that came from a two-parent household, and I struggled with the notion that I couldn’t offer Oliver the same. I had friends from divorced families, and I often felt a sense of sadness and brokenness for them, a feeling that lingered in my own heart.
Every parent wishes to give their child the best life possible, encompassing good health—mental, emotional, and physical. Yet, what happens when your greatest fear is that you cannot provide a “healthy” family? I grappled with the idea that my son could thrive in a single-parent home. The shame of not measuring up to the traditional family model consumed me.
The day after Christmas, driving through town, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been the one imposing stigma on our family structure. I was the one who felt that just the two of us—a single mom and her son—didn’t constitute a family. I was the one who needed to stop placing shame where it didn’t belong.
It dawned on me that love defines a family, not its size. A single mom and her child have their own unique bond, filled with love and togetherness. I realized that Oliver and I were a family in every sense of the word.
Redefining what family means was crucial. We may be small in number, but we are rich in love.
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Summary:
Being a single parent can feel daunting, but the love shared between a mother and child creates a strong family bond. It’s important to redefine what family means beyond traditional norms. Emphasizing love and togetherness can help alleviate feelings of inadequacy, reminding all parents that they are enough for their children.