My daughter recently turned 2. I understand a little more each day how parents call their children their pride and joy. I feel my heart expand daily in ways I never knew it could. Some mornings, I find myself excited for this little person to wake up so I can spend time with her–instead of only savoring my small bit of me time.

But the reality is that even as the mother of a 2 year old, I’m still not over the fact that it was an unplanned pregnancy where I lacked the support all pregnant women need.

Pregnancy is supposed to be a time of joy. A time of excitement of the good things to come. For women facing an unplanned pregnancy, it can be hard to capture that joy. For women like myself, who were cast aside by my child’s father early on in the pregnancy–we likely needed that joy even more.

The truth is that I still feel abandoned. I still feel the sting of having gone through most of the pregnancy alone, sometimes with strangers, and lacking the usual joys. Seemingly innocuous things get under my skin about motherhood. It feels like a death or very big loss. The fact that I didn’t have a partner care about my needs or well-being as my body endured the pain is something I still remember. The pain of longing for a baby shower to somehow be able to feel a bit of joy. The inability to relax and take comfort in the support of family and friends. The frequent ER visits and staying in the hospital for ten days due to complications with preeclampsia.

When my severe preeclampsia resulted in the unexpected induction of labor, I was so frightened. I was worried that my baby’s father wouldn’t make it to the delivery and I didn’t feel like I could do it without him. Even though he’d forced me to go through the entire pregnancy without him.

When our daughter was born after 37 hours of truly miserable labor, she spent 10 days in the NICU. I stayed in the Ronald McDonald House with her father, the man who had left me pregnant and kicked me out of our apartment and who had since moved on and into another woman’s home. He didn’t offer empathy that I could hardly walk for more than a week due to the pain of labor. He asked me why I was crying. I was crying in pain just trying to walk, just trying to shower and use the bathroom, and I was crying because I had never in my life felt so alone.

How do you explain to someone you loved more than life that their rejection and inability to be there for you when you needed them most? He couldn’t see it. He doesn’t see it now.

I had no joy during my pregnancy. And I’m not over it. No. Not even after 2+ years. People make comments as if I should be over it, should have expected it, or shouldn’t feel abandoned now. Why should I care that he left us? Why should it matter that he accused me of wanting to not work at all because I wanted to stay home to raise our daughter, yet now he’s living with a woman who has no job and he wants to make her happy by letting her be a homemaker? Why should it hurt me that he has always held a stricter, and more cruel standard against me than his ex-wife or any of his 35+ girlfriends or one night stands? He feels bad for them. Those exes. But he blames everything on me.

Everyone says it shouldn’t hurt me, right? Yet, no, I’m still not over it. I’m not over the fact that he acts like it’s nothing. Or like I owe him a relationship with our daughter when he consistently puts himself first. Like being a single mom isn’t hard, or being a single mom without family isn’t harder, like he has nothing to do with how the pregnancy went and how single motherhood is now.

Every day, I live for my daughter. I choose to get up and keep going even when I want to crawl into a dark room, fall asleep and never come out. I keep walking through setbacks, through migraines, through painful days where our only family experience with others can be described as dysfunctional and paranoid. I keep going.

It will always be easy for him to play the crazy baby mama card. Complain that his baby mama of his daughter won’t leave him alone. That I’m still in love with him. That I’m a stalker. That I use his daughter against him.

In reality, I am a woman who never wanted to be a single mom. I am a woman mourning a painful pregnancy devoid of joy and filled with fear. I am a mom who aches for her daughter because I know what it’s like to not have one. I am a brokenhearted woman who can’t imagine opening up her heart to love again after experiencing betrayal on such a deep and long-lasting level. I’m a mom trying to survive without the family she needs and trying to hope for a new beginning.

I am grateful for my long distance friends who have stood by me and not prodded me to “get over it”. I am grateful to them for not devaluing my feelings or telling me to be glad something worse hasn’t happened. Because I plan to never devalue my daughter’s pain or tell her that her feelings are nothing. She makes me a better person and I’m a better mom everyday single day because she reminds me to keep going, keep trying, and keep believing in love.

But it still doesn’t mean I’m over the fact that her dad isn’t there, that he treats me like a doormat, or that he isn’t a fraction of the father we need him to be. And honestly, it would go a very long way if he could actually feel empathy for what I’ve endured. If he could love our daughter and respect me enough to want to do everything he can to be a good dad.

But I know it’s utterly unlikely that he will ever be respectful to me and ever truly acknowledge his responsibilities. He doesn’t think he owes us a thing while he expects way too much from me.

So what do I do? I move forward. I focus on my daughter and try to be positive. I’m in pain, and I’m not over it. But I’m moving.

 

Obviously it’s been a long time since I updated the blog and today, I’m forcing myself to take the time to do it now. For anyone reading this and wondering what I’m up to lately, I’m working from home and taking care of my daughter.

My daughter, Sophie, is 21 months old right now. She’s pretty severely attached to me, though independent enough to try to run free whenever we’re out running errands. I’m currently working with her dad to set up a good time for her to have a double frenectomy. Which is a fancy way to say that she has a tongue tie and lip tie which both need to be surgically corrected. It looks like that will happen in the next month.

Last February, I began working for a social media management company and it’s now my full-time job. I write from home–blogs and social media posts. I do my darndest to get my weekly tasks completed within a Sunday-Wednesday timeframe. Sometimes Monday-Thursday. And on really efficient weeks, Monday-Wednesday. The point is that I try very hard to get my work done as fast as possible so I can spend my time with my daughter. And you know, complete all the real life work of laundry/cooking/cleaning, etc.

It’s a great gig and I’m so lucky/blessed to be able to keep Sophie out of daycare so we have that really strong bond. And like every other life choice, it has its downsides too. And we’ve had our challenges with Sophie’s health and development.

I’ll get into the challenges more in a later post. But keep going with the updates. I think we’re continuing to do better and better… We haven’t been on any kind of government assistance for six months. We aren’t relying upon financial help from friends or strangers. I’m renting a house for below market rate, but am looking into new options.

So from a very large picture standpoint, we’re doing really well.

We still have needs, particularly transportation and community. I need the opportunity to be refreshed and have a break once in a while. She needs frienship, and I need friendship too. I need the peace of mind and emotional support to help make my fitness and weight loss goals more attainable. And just getting my daughter to eat food is an all day, everyday struggle… But all that aside, I’m still moving forward. There are good days and bad days, but I do try to focus on the fact that I get to spend my time with this funny little sweetie:

 

I haven’t written for so long, for so many reasons… because it’s complicated. I’m complicated. My life is complicated.

In a little more than a week, my daughter will be one and a half. Eighteen months seems like such a long time to have this little person I’m responsible for, and I’m happy for the little wins–she’s never had a diaper rash nor ear infection, she’s still nursing and growing. But there are many things I often feel make me a “failure” as well. She’s a night owl and currently doesn’t go to bed before midnight. She is far beyond your average picky eater toddler. She is clearly bright, but uses her words selectively and our lifestyle hasn’t yet taught her social skills.

Maybe it isn’t like this for all single moms, but for me, there is always a trade off that makes me realize how truly unable I am to do or be everything. I work from home because I feel strongly convicted that it gives me the best opportunity to still forge a stable bond with my daughter. And it does. In many ways I am very happy. I enjoy my job, and the flexibility that goes along with working from home. I don’t like the guilt when I tell my daughter she has to quit climbing on me when I’m working. I don’t like the stress and worry that if I don’t get my work done right away, an emergency could come up and prevent me from finishing. I don’t like forcing myself to stay up til 3am to make sure I get things done while my daughter sleeps, because lately I fall asleep in the middle of my work. I don’t like the worry that all my clients will cancel one month, or I’ll have a month where I can’t pay rent or some other bill. I don’t like that I’m not completely “back on my feet.”

It seems that as a single mom, I trade one security for another. It’s stressful, but I know I must learn to be okay with this stage of life. In this stage of life, I am alone. I don’t have real family help and I don’t have friends to call to come over and spend time with me and my daughter. I don’t have a babysitter close enough to my daughter to help give me a bit of a break.

Some moms will judge me for saying this, but being the single mama of a young toddler is very lonely. I love my little girl and am amazed every day by the joy a little one can bring, but I can’t say that joy doesn’t get overshadowed by the loneliness. Because it does. I want to have a whole family and right now my family feels broken. I am not someone who does well on their own. I have spent most of my adult life working alone and supporting myself without family–taking care of yourself and being alone is something that for me had gotten very old before I became a mother. Now it’s even worse.

I’m kind of at this point where words escape me. I write for a living but I’m running out of the words to express myself. On the occasions that a long-distance friend asks me what I need, I hardly know what to say. Where do you begin when you seem to need everything? How do you say you don’t know how to have a friend or enjoy life outside of motherhood because your life is so complicated?

I’m at a point where I know I need to take care of myself. Quit putting off my needs. I need to make changes. And i need to do it alone.

Despite what you sometimes read about being poor, it isn’t fun to be in need. It isn’t free stuff and no work, although I have heard being in need somehow sets you up for steak and seafood on the government’s dime. Sorry, but no.

Being in need is hard on many levels and for many reasons. Right now, my daughter and I are in need of a home. I haven’t had a home of my own since my fiance left me pregnant. My daughter has never lived in a home that was ours and she is 13 months old. We have lived with others and while that has been a blessing, we must leave our current dwelling place by May 31st and it’s time for something we can truly call home.

Being a single mama in need seems to mean everyone with good intentions has an opinion about what we need. It’s very hard for other people to understand why I need to be in the city, on a bus line, have easy access to laundry and healthy grocery stores. They often don’t see the need for a good neighborhood, or for caution about Craigslist apartments and houseshares with strangers.

Even some of the kindest people in the world feel that hey, beggars can’t be choosers. But the reality is that most of these people are very far removed from our everyday life. I don’t have a vehicle, I don’t have a local support network. Friends? I don’t have them except online. No one will hang out with me at the mall or do a monthly ladies night with me. Being a poor single mom is lonely. Am I a pariah? It often feels that way.

I am well on my way to getting back on my feet but I’m not quite there yet. I’m working on raising money for an apartment fund to get us through the next couple months. I should be able to manage after that.

If you would like to share or contribute to the campaign, please visit http://www.gofundme.com/shannonandsophie

I am my daughter’s primary caregiver. Well, to be real, I am her only caregiver. She and I are up here in Minnesota while her father is living his life in Tennessee and Georgia. His financial support keeps her in clothing and diapers, etc. But the kindness of others keeps a roof over our heads since I don’t make enough money for rent.

There’s a good chance that when you hear “single mama”, you think of a woman who works while her child is in daycare or school, or perhaps while her child is sleeping. You know her life is hard by default. There are simply certain expectations for single mamas in our society.

Above (most) all, single mamas are expected to work their tails off to provide for their offspring. They are seen as breadwinner and nurturer, Amazonian super women who do it all in the absence of a man or partner. And it seems to me that something in our society says it should be that way, particularly if we have had children out of  wedlock. Then on the other hand society says women can do or be anything and everything.

I am going to be very honest with you. I am not every woman. I cannot do everything. Nor do I want to. Really, what I want is to be a good mama. The mama I was created to be.  The kind of mama who doesn’t settle or back down without a fight.

You see, I never knew whether or not I was a maternal “type”. I wasn’t sure that I could love a baby more than the man who had left me pregnant and alone. But this life happened and I made it through the first year without her father. I swiftly learned what was important to me as a mother and I vowed that money wasn’t going to get in the way.

To all the well-meaning folks who encourage me to face reality and accept my lack of choice as a single mom who isn’t independently wealthy, I must be a fool. But I am not afraid to say this is who I am. I am not everything. I do not multitask SO well that I can do it all.

I need to be PRESENT for my daughter. That is my choice right now. Even though I’m not yet back on my feet and earning a livable wage. Even though I don’t have a home for us.

We have moved many times since pregnancy. Crashing on couches and air mattresses, ocassionally having our own room. For the past 6 months we have been living in the home of a couple who generously had space to share. It has been wonderful and peaceful in many ways. And we now need a new home again as this couple is selling their home.

So I get to ask myself once again if I am doing the right thing. If I am lazy. If I am mom enough.

And then I see my daughter’s smile. I see her eyes light up and her tears subside when I return from even a short trip away from her. And I realize that I am working for the very best thing in the world–she, and the mama I am compelled to be with her.

That is what makes me believe we will be okay, even if getting back on my feet progresses on a less than timely schedule which I would like and still others disapprove.

Being the best mom YOU are compelled to be, is mom enough. I may not be able to “do it all”, yet my baby girl needs ME, and that makes all of this time of need worth it.

Today is Easter Sunday, a day where I can’t help but reflect upon the value of family, life, and renewal.

My daughter will turn one in only four days, but technically this is her second Easter. Last Easter she and I were crammed into her father’s car traveling from the NICU in Springfield, Missouri to a pseudo-home in Chattanooga, Tennessee. We didn’t really belong there since her father had already moved on with another woman before our child was born. But last Easter Sunday I tried to believe we could coparent and he could be an involved father.

This year my daughter and I are back in my homestate of Minnesota. I am very much missing the family we never had, though I am grateful to have had friends invite us into their homes so this holiday was not quite so solitary. Still somehow I can’t help but think about the father and husband I one day hope to have complete our family life. And since spring has now officially sprung, that means what I really want to talk about is weight.

Nearly a year postpartum, I still haven’t lost the baby weight. And that is weight in addition to excess pounds I was trying to lose even before I became pregnant. There’s no way around the fact that right now I am fat. Everybody knows it.

Often however, it seems people believe I must not know I’m heavy and carrying around excess fat. The other women who look me up and down at the mall. The fellow grocery shoppers who eyeball my cart after throwing me a sideways glance. The single men who will never give me the time of day because they think I’m unattractive.

Today I find myself inspired to speak to those men. Men who overlook a woman because she is heavy and relegate her to the friend zone are people unable to appreciate the value of any woman. They are people who look at the world but do not see. You may feel this is a rather cliché effort to be politically correct. You may argue this is fat acceptance or a viewpoint promoting poor health.

But the truth is that fat women are every bit as valuable as thin ones. They are every bit as deserving of love. Being heavy is not an automatic character flaw–it doesn’t indicate that a woman is lazy, stupid or gross. It doesn’t mean that all she does is eat. It means that she is human and some of her imperfection is visible to the naked eye. In other words, she is human and imperfect just like you, but you have already judged her shallowly with eyes that decided she isn’t good enough you. Perhaps there is some truth to that. It may be that she is more kind or more talented than you could ever appreciate. She might be a strong and loving single mother who loves and refuses to view people as a commodity to be used. Yet you as a highly visual man focused on never settling for anything less than “the total package” are likely missing out on the opportunity to love and be loved by someone who has what you need. All because you think beauty should be… what?

By all means tell me what beauty should be? Is it a heart full of love that longs for justice? Is it a mom who puts her family first and loves unconditionally? How will having a hot wife serve you and your children? If your vision of beauty depends upon a body that isn’t too heavy, how will you later explain to your daughter that she was created beautiful just as she is? If you believe in true equality and goodness in this world, how can you limit romantic love as only available to the physically fit and graceful (for now)?

The truth is that you could marry a woman with a “perfect 10 body” and she could lose it. Cancer could ravage her body. PCOS or hypothyroidism could damage her metabolism. An accident could lead to muscle atrophy. If you can’t see beauty in a heavy woman right now, how will you see it down the road when you are weary from fighting with a woman you thought you knew so well but suddenly disagree with about everything? If you were unable to see beauty in imperfection before you went through a rough patch, how can you see it through or after?

When our idea of what is good or beautiful is limited to only some types of perfection, we actually limit our experience of love. We lie to ourselves that love exists in a vacuum of outer appearance. And in the end we all suffer from such limitations.

As a whole, women tend to be much more skilled at loving by looking past outer appearances. We more frequently see “hot women” with “ugly men” because women excel at the art of getting to know the whole person.

If we expect a specific standard of beauty for our future spouse, we might as well admit right now that we aren’t really wanting to love the entire person, but really, the pretty person. If you are unable to fall in love with or find a fat girl attractive, I can essentially guarantee you are missing the point of falling in love.

Real and lasting love isn’t easy. The deepest love is a choice we make when not choosing love would have been so easy. The only love that lasts the test of time is a love that looks not with the eyes, but with the heart.  And that means the best mate for us may not be the perfect trophy spouse after all. Especially since none of us–including you, guys–is the perfect human specimen.

I’m not going to be disingenuous and pretend this was easy to write. It wasn’t. Motherhood isn’t easy, my life is a hard one, and being a single mama isn’t how I ever envisioned my future. I can tell you daily one more reason I hate being a single mom. But to tell you what I love about it? I have to dig deep to turn it around and find something good. So here it is:

1. It makes me a less selfish person.

Before I met my daughter’s father, I was the definition of working for the weekend. The clerical work I did afforded me the ability to splurge on a market-rate warehouse district apartment with 14 foot ceilings. I lived across the street from the farmers market and at one point enjoyed monthly trips to the spa for a massage through my FSA account. I had my hair cut and colored in the salon with a facial every 6 weeks. I was on a raw foods weight loss plan and regularly purchased new clothes and accessories for my shrinking body. I didn’t have everything and I certainly lived paycheck to paycheck. But in all honesty it was a selfish kind of life as I had no one else to live for.

Flash forward 2 years and I’m a single mama. Her daddy left us and she is dependent upon me. I don’t get sick days or much of any opportunity to rest or have fun. If this sounds like My life is now more than me, more than romantic love, more than doing whatever it is that I want to do. I am needed, truly and deeply needed, by a helpless little human. The lessons I teach her will impact her entire life. The bond we share will matter. Suddenly I have something to live for, to put first, and it’s not me.

2. I get to choose my parenting style without debating with my partner.

It’s not as if her father and I never argue since we’re no longer a couple. We. Fight. A. Lot. We never really bickered as a couple–we fight often as exes. But our arguments tend to focus more on his lack of involvement and less on my decisions. At the end of the day, because I’m the single mama and he’s the distant dad, I get to parent how I feel I ought to and I do not have to argue with (nor answer to) a partner who disagrees.

Yet it’s not about having everything my way either. I am simply aware that I have the luxury of getting to make all decisions about how to raise my child and I am not stressed about her father’s reaction to those choices. That’s not to say he doesn’t stress me out or that I wouldn’t welcome some disagreement if it meant her father was more involved. It definitely doesn’t feel luxurious, but I recognize this freedom counts as a perk of single parenting.

3. It has taught me that I’m stronger than I think.

When I first realized I was going to be a single mama, I wanted to kill myself. I know, I wish I was joking, but having a baby without any emotional support from the father was at the top of my “things I never want” list ever. For a long time, I believed I couldn’t BE a mom without this man I loved. He was already a father to three boys while I was never certain about wanting to have a child myself. I thought I needed him to stand by me and show me the ropes.

But he never did. He was there for the delivery and some other ocassions, but through this first year or so he has never actually shown up and been present. This baby kept needing me, kept growing. I asked for help but he was not there. I finally had to do something that nearly killed me–I had to go. I left his part of the country and took our daughter back to my home state a thousand miles away. I brought the clothes on my back and two bags of baby clothes. I put her first when I was brokenhearted and would have otherwise done anything to be close to her dad.

I did it because I am strong. We got through colic without him. We still get through sleepless nights without him. Through my sickness and fatigue we have survived. I know our daughter lives because I have taken care of her when he wouldn’t. One day, perhaps while drafting this post, I looked back on her first 11 months and realized I am stronger than I ever believed possible for me.

4. It’s taught me what matters in life–and made me stand for those convictions.

As soon as her father told me I had to leave our apartment, well-meaning people began to lecture me about being a single mom. The common denominator was this: “Your life will be hard–let me explain to you how you are in for a hard 20 years or so. And let me pound it into your brain and say that you must do WHATEVER it takes to give this child as much money as you can. Work three jobs if you must. And don’t complain. This is life as a single mom.”

Really, people–that is how you sound. These same folks thought it was horrible that my obstetrician told me to quit my job at T-Mobile because it was too stressful during a high-risk pregnancy. Every time I was put on bed rest or hospitalized during that time, someone felt it was their duty to tell me I was being a bad mom before my child was born. Or I somehow couldn’t be a REAL SINGLE MAMA if I didn’t have a job that pays my bills.

That’s okay. These were generally the people I cut out of my life because they were so toxic whenever I expressed my goal to stay home with my daughter. Single moms don’t have the luxury to stay home unless they are independently wealthy. I heard this again and again. People called me lazy or a freeloader. They told me about all their hardships and how they handled it better because of me.

And all it ever really came down to was money. It still does.

It doesn’t matter to them that her father hasn’t  worked one bit harder to take care of his new baby. Everyone had (and continues to have) opinions about what I should but am not doing to make money. It doesn’t matter that I am working as a mom 24/7 and also working from home, because I’m not prosperous at present. In a way this has been a blessing because it has solidified my belief in what matters most–being there for my daughter and bonding strongly, particularly in her first 3 years of life. The criticism has taught me how much I value family, even though it’s just me and my daughter. It’s made me see that money isn’t everything and I never want to sacrifice her needs in the name of financial gain.

5. My daughter and I have a unique bond.

Because her father chooses to be less involved, my daughter only knows me as her nurturer and protector. That creates a really special, strong bond between us because I know I’m all she’s got and I’m going to do whatever it takes to meet her needs. By extension, she is going to grow up knowing that my love was an action–not empty words.

I have confidence that my sacrifices to instill the importance of family in my baby girl will go a long way to make her one day appreciate these bonds which can’t be bought. Some of us grow up wondering our entire lives if were truly loved by our own parents, or if they just had to love us out of obligation. I know that my daughter will be able to look back on our memories and traditions and cherish the fact that I put her and our bond first.

There may be many more things I hate about being a single mom than things to love, but I think the value of these 5 perks far surpass that of any gripe I have. It isn’t easy–I have to work to appreciate what I have as a single mama compared to moms with partners. But I know my daughter will always be worth it. I also know that no matter how unfair it seems that I have to work so hard while he enjoys living a typically child-free existence going out to eat or to the movies whenever he wants–I’m not the one missing out. He is the one missing out on knowing his daughter. He is the one lacking the memories of sacrifice or laughter and joy.

For single mamas everywhere, I suspect cooking can be a bit daunting. Even if you’re like me and loved to cook before you had children, you might find yourself lost as to how you can get your little one to eat real food.

My little goose is 11 months old today. As with most things, food has been a challenge. She had colic and I cut out all dairy, gluten, soy from my diet. When it came time to feed her solids, she seemed to like the idea of eating more than the actual food.

I had committed to feed her as healthy and organic as I could, but as her teething progressed, much of her eating regressed. Between her 8 and 10 month checkups, she only gained half a pound. I researched how to get some weight on her and opted to nurse more and try to get more fat in her diet. She put on weight and things seemed well, but then she began having terrible acid reflux episodes again. So I took out yogurt and cheese from her diet. We’re still constantly tweaking, but I’m pleased to say that most days she is a petty “solid” eater, and the reflux issues seem to be improving.

Even so, the thought of cooking three nourishing meals each day on top of all the other work of a mom can be overwhelming. Especially when I don’t know that she will even eat it. But I keep offering whole, REAL foods in hopes that I will help give her healthy habits for life.

I’m a big fan of one dish, simple meals as they not only reduce cleanup, but they seem to encourage cravings for more unprocessed foods. Here’s one quick skillet I came up with for lunch today. And yes, the little one approved.

EASY PEASY CHICKEN CABBAGE SKILLET

1 Tablespoon unflavored coconut oil

8 ounces ground chicken thigh, antibiotic-free

Salt, to season (like the pink Himalayan variety)

1 Tablespoon poultry seasoning (a mix of thyme, sage, marjoram, rosemary, black pepper and nutmeg.)

1 small head savoy cabbage, chopped small but not diced (this is the extra wrinkly stuff, much lighter and sweeter than regular green cabbage. )

1 Tablespoon butter, organic and grassfed

1/4 to 1/2 cup heavy cream, organic and grassfed

Salt and pepper to taste

Warm the coconut oil over medium-high heat. Crumble and brown the ground chicken, adding salt and poultry seasoning. Once the pink has mostly disappeared, add the chopped cabbage, stir to combine and place a lid on the skillet. Reduce heat to medium and allow the cabbage to wilt and shrink, stirring occasionally. Once the cabbage is wilted but still crisp, about 6 minutes, add the butter and stir. Cook another 5 minutes and so the cabbage can soften. Add the cream and stir. Cook another minute or two so it is soft enough for your toddler to chew. Season again with salt and pepper.

This is great served over rice or with bread to mop up the liquid. I think of this skillet as a little like old world peasant food, and that’s one of the things I love about it. Enjoy!

Everyday is not always a good day, so here are 10 things I hate about being a single mama.

1. I have to do everything.

Since I’m the single mom of an infant whose father is a thousand miles away, there is no “your turn” or “my turn.” It’s always my turn, whether I’m sick, exhausted or simply needing time to recharge. My entire day is made full by simply keeping this little human being alive AND trying to stay on top of household tasks. That’s not to mention job-related work I try to complete between moments of chasing my daughter away from shoes she’d like to eat or deterring her from sitting on my laptop screen.

2. I can’t do everything.

Among the worst parts of HAVING to do everything for a baby alone is the crying. My daughter wants me to hold her, but I have to put her down to use the bathroom. It doesn’t matter that she’s right there with me–she’s a baby, so all she knows is mama put her down and it made her sad. And to a baby, being sad is or might as well be the end of the world. Every time. I try to take the opportunity to explain to her that mama is busy but will still take care of her and that she is feeling mad and feeling mad is okay. But it doesn’t make it any less stressful for either of us. Nor does it help that we repeat this scenario throughout the day when mama tries to wash dishes, do the laundry or prepare meals.

3. I can’t give my daughter the relationship with her father that she will crave.

This is a big one for me. I had a terrible father whom I didn’t even love, but the fact that he lived outside the home didn’t help me deal with those feelings or rejection any better. Little girls learn how to relate to men by the way they relate to their dads and how their dads to them. I can try to explain this to my ex, but it can’t convince him to be there for her or bond in any substantial way. I hate this. I make notes to myself of how to talk to her about her dad as she gets older, and how to give her the freedom to process her father wound, but I can’t make it go away. I feel in a sense, that I failed her from the start by not giving her a present father.

4. People want to help… but only in ways they think would help.

By far the most often offer of assistance I receive is to babysit so I can have time away from my baby. The problem? At barely 11 months old, that is rarely what I need. One very well-meaning person suggested connecting me to a program where a foster type family would take my daughter for a week or more, just to give me a break. I won’t lie–the offer flabbergasted me. Where do I even begin?

For one, I’m a nursing mama whose baby will only take milk from me at the breast. And two,  I would never be alright leaving my daughter in a stranger’s care for a few hours not to mention an entire week. I couldn’t leave her with a family member for a night or two. It’s still too soon for that.

The things that would actually serve me and my daughter tend to be things people don’t really like to do. Like bringing us over a meal or helping us to get out of the house more often. Practical offerings that still allow me to be mom. We actually are currently in need of a new home, of people who would welcome us into their home, because we don’t have family that can take us in. Obviously, few people want to help like that.

Perhaps the only way most people want to help is to babysit. But when I say that one of the most helpful things for me is a babysitter who plays with my daughter while I do stuff around the house (so I’m there when she needs me), the potential babysitter usually looks befuddled. If that’s our need, why is looked at so strangely?

5. I have no partner to tagteam with, back me up, or pour into me when my reserves are empty.

Being a new mom is hard. For anyone, single or not. At the end of the day, I’m pretty sure all moms crave a little attention and relief from pouring themselves out non-stop. But when you’re a single mom, you may very well have no one there for you like you desperately need. I am so constantly pouring myself out with no chance to get refilled that I find myself envying other women who get to go out for coffee, go to the movies, or simply have people over when they feel like it. Going back to number 4, I wonder if it ever even occurred to them I might like (or need) an invite.

6. If I talk about being overwhelmed, people blame my parenting style…

Or recommend therapy.

So, in an attempt to be, I dunno… genuine and real, I have talked about my experience as a new (and single) mom. It’s overwhelming much of the time and I’ve expressed as much. To further complicate things, my baby is a high needs baby. No, not special needs. High needs. Yes, it’s a real thing,  read this.

I have learned–for the most part–to keep quiet about my frustrations unless I feel like being told that my parenting style is creating my problems. Again, well-meaning folks who tell me I need to take care of myself first and let the baby cry. That I need to detach and take time off from my baby. It’s useless to explain my parenting philosophy and my commitment to being an attached mama. It’s way too easy for people to tell me that as a single, far-from-wealthy mom, I have to face reality and make “compromises”.

This is where I simply smile and nod. When my daughter was 8 months old, people thought it was weird that she had some separation anxiety. They certainly think it’s weird to still be an issue now. People like this tell me I must prepare my daughter for disappointment at an early age. I tell myself I’d rather my child have a secure attachment to me in these early days. I can teach her how to handle disappointment when she is able to, um, reason.

7. Most single mom programs I come across are for moms battling drug issues or lacking job skills.

Every time I get connected to a new church or ministry or program aimed to help single mamas, I get my hopes up and think maybe this will be the community that welcomes us with open arms and helps us meet some of our practical, emotional and relational needs. And while individuals certainly make a difference, I usually find that these programs offer mentorship and friendship to moms who “really need it.” I get cut because people say I’m not a hot mess. I’m not where I need to be, but I’m not endangering my child either.

Sigh. I don’t even have words for this feeling. Except “falling through the cracks.”

8. The attitude that I asked for this and as the woman should be solely culpable.

So you might think that in our modern day and age, people would be a little less sexist, but they’re not. I was in a supposedly committed relationship with marriage having already been agreed upon. We discussed both control and the fact that I was not on the pill and he didn’t want to use condoms. He knew I’d had a non-viable pregnancy in the past and that I may not be able to carry to term. We took a calculated risk together, but once I became pregnant people accused me of doing it on purpose. Um, I have PCOS and couldn’t map my ovulation. Many more people lectured me once he left that it was my job to be an unselfish mother and that I shouldn’t expect him to stick around for an unplanned pregnancy. Well, it’s nice how that works for men. Women can’t check out of the situation or claim the need for time to think. As soon as we know the test is positive we find ourselves on a ticking countdown.

People still tell me how I shouldn’t want her dad more involved if he doesn’t want to be, because that’s obligation and no one should be obligated to do anything. Right. Except for single moms. Our society thinks it’s okay to tell single moms that they have all the responsibility for pregnancy and child rearing. And then if the father decides he wants to be involved after years of abandonment or neglect, that is a woman’s responsibility to allow.

If we expect so much of our women, should we expect more of our men? Or maybe we should at least offer substantial and consistent community to single mothers responsible for future generations.

9. The attitude that wanting to be a stay at home mom is selfish, lazy or impractical for single moms.

Again, I’m sure people mean well, but they all too often want to tell me how being a single stay-at-home mama isn’t possible because I need to make money. And not just a little bit of money, but I need to do everything it takes to not only care for my child’s day-to-day needs in addition to providing complete financial stability. Amazingly, it’s socially acceptable to neglect my baby’s emotional needs to make money, but it’s selfish to put those emotional needs first and rely on others for help with housing or transportation.

This attitude nearly assumes I got pregnant without the help of a man. It once again says the mom is wholly responsible for the consequences of pregnancy. Why?

Still others think I’m merely lazy and want an excuse to stay home and do nothing. You’re right–I love not being able to go to the bathroom or shower in peace. What? If you really think caring for an infant by yourself affords anyone the ability to be lazy, that infant must be a Hasbro doll. Because in the real world, caring for a helpless human being and doing it well IS work. Just an fyi.

10. The loneliness.

By and large, this is the one that produces the most snark in me. It’s the reason fueling this post. Being a single mom–at least for me–is heartbreakingly lonely. There’s no way around it. I currently have housemates and I still feel the crushing weight of isolation because they don’t have kids. They have lives. They have stress and problems, yes. But they also have friends or family and they get to de-stress.

I am a single mama without much family. My best friends live states or even countries away. I find myself longing every single day for companionship, for family, for people I can lean on during this hard time. But at the end of the day, or in the middle of the afternoon, it’s just me and my baby girl. And it’s lonely.

So those are the 10 Things I Hate About Being a Single Mom. Stay tuned and I’m sure I’ll tell you the 10 Things I Love about it–once I figure out 5. And I’m sure there are a lot of proud single mamas who wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s great, but maybe this can help you understand why we don’t all feel that way.

I tend to like words, or more specifically, I really like the written word. It may be the introvert in me, but I feel much more at liberty to express myself through writing than any other mode of communication.

Motherhood, however, er, parenthood, requires an altogether different side of me. Words matter, but I certainly cannot raise a baby with words alone. This single mom thing is a both-hands-on-deck, take-no-breather kind of thing. This is action by way of a million in-the-moment choices coupled with a constant reminder this is a lone effort on my part with no tag-teaming by her dad.

Somewhere along the way it occurred to me that if I was going to do this single mama thing and do it well, I would need to be intentional. And the hardest lesson I have learned about intentional parenting is how much more difficult it is from simply having good intentions for our children.

I won’t lie.  For my daughter I try very hard to live my life intentionally, but most days I find myself scrambling with every ball in the air.  I am 32 years old and I’m not just learning how to be a mom, but I am also learning how to love and thrive for the first time. Facing parenthood and facing it alone has made me own up to some of my demons. It has made me aware of shortcomings I have from my own childhood. For one, I have discovered I don’t really know how to make (and worse, keep) friends. I don’t know how to take care of my body. I don’t know how to be in a committed relationship or handle rejection gracefully. These are things I never learned, I suppose because my parents were never intentional about teaching me.

My daughter has been called an accident or unexpected pregnancy. Some have even had the audacity to label her unwanted or a mistake. The truth is that she came as a surprise.  She was in fact a miracle child for a woman who didn’t know she could even carry a baby to term. I suspect the truth is that she is saving me. From myself.  From my selfishness. From an unexamined life. I am surprisingly responsible for another human being. I have surprisingly made it through these ten months and 19 days without tragedy. And that is something I take very seriously. I get a reason beyond me to be intentional and learn how to live an intentional life. A present existence.

It’s been hard feeling forced into being a single mama. I long for partnership. When I am emotionally drained or physically exhausted in what feels like a never-ending new job, I wonder who is going to hold my hand and fight for me. I long for emotional and relational safety. But I remind myself of the importance of the task set before me. The miracle of life.

Honestly?  I haven’t handled my pain with grace. I have begged, pleaded, bargained, screamed for and written hundreds of thousands of words to get out of this place. Like I have said, I never wanted to be a single mama. Yet here I am. If I am going to honor my daughter and honor myself, I have to be an intentional parent. I have to decide what kind of mom I am going to be, what kind of mom I’m meant to be, and spend each day with that goal in mind. I get so weary and overwhelmed some days,  yet I know that for the sake of my little girl, I cannot allow her father’s absence or my lack of money turn me into a different mom than the one I believe I’m supposed to be.

And so,  I do what I feel I must do. Sometimes I am so slow and deliberate that it takes me a month to write one blog post.  I am okay taking my time to speak my heart. I very much want to be intentional about Single Mama Comma because I want to be real and reach others in a positive way.

I hope you will continue this journey with me.