I recently encountered a past coworker with whom I collaborated two decades ago. During our conversation, he inquired about my family, and I mentioned that I have four children. He responded warmly, reminiscing, “You always had a desire to be a mother. I’m delighted that your dream has been fulfilled.” Rather than divulging the recent separation from my children’s father, I opted to divert the discussion by sharing adorable photos of my kids, a simple yet effective strategy to ease any discomfort.
My journey into single parenthood began in 2010 when I met the man whom I would later divorce. Our relationship blossomed during our time in graduate school in the Midwest, leading to a pregnancy within a mere three months of dating. The initial phase of romantic outings swiftly transitioned into a routine centered around feeding schedules and sleep training, leaving little room for the typical new-couple experiences like leisurely strolls hand in hand through quaint bookstores. Subsequently, we tied the knot, acquired a home, and expanded our family. However, our days were predominantly consumed by parental responsibilities, leaving me emotionally drained and our marital intimacy waning. By the time he moved out, our connection had diminished to that of mere roommates rather than partners.
Transitioning into the role of a single mother was a gradual process for me, as I initially hesitated to fully embrace the title. This reluctance stemmed from my perception of single parenthood as synonymous with hardship, a notion that I struggled to align with my own comparatively fortunate circumstances.
Upon separating, I sought solace in an online community of divorced mothers, where I encountered harrowing tales of betrayal and struggle. These narratives painted a stark contrast to my own situation, where I was blessed with a robust support system comprising devoted family members and friends who readily stepped in to assist with childcare and everyday tasks. Despite shouldering the responsibilities of part-time teaching across multiple institutions and freelance writing, managing the household finances, and caring for my four children, I found comfort in the unwavering support of my loved ones and the continued involvement of my ex-husband in our children’s lives.
While the journey of single parenthood has been challenging, I gradually shed the self-imposed notion of unworthiness associated with my failed marriage. A close friend’s perspective offered a transformative insight, reframing my narrative from one of failure to that of courage and foresight in navigating a difficult situation. Through this lens, I came to appreciate the profound joy and fulfillment that single parenthood has brought into my life, surpassing the limitations of an unfulfilling partnership. It dawned on me that I could thrive as a parent without a romantic counterpart, relishing the unique bond and shared moments with my children that no external negativity could tarnish.
In retrospect, I realized that being a single parent not only entails hard work but also encapsulates a wealth of joy and fulfillment. It signifies being the pillar of support for my children, the conductor of our shared experiences, and the architect of our cherished memories. Embracing this role enabled me to witness and partake in every aspect of their growth and development, fostering a sense of abundance rather than lack. In essence, being a single parent embodies exceptional strength and resilience, qualities that define my journey with pride and contentment.
Upon reflection, I discovered that the term “singular” resonates deeply with the essence of single parenthood, signifying exceptionalism and distinction—a definition that aligns perfectly with my experience and outlook.
Jill Bodach, a seasoned journalist with a background in crime reporting, transitioned her career to academia after pursuing a Master of Science in English. Over the past 16 years, she has imparted knowledge in college writing, literature, and creative writing disciplines.