I'm a 41-year-old widow with young kids. Here are the 5 things no one tells you about parenting alone.
My husband died six years ago, leaving me to parent our kids alone.
I learned five important things in my years as an only parent.
Making decisions for my kids all by myself can be exhausting some times.
Earlier this month, my daughter turned 14. When she woke up in the morning, I was the only parent who wished her a happy birthday. When she went to bed, I was the only parent who could share a memory from the moment she was born. In between, I was the only parent to help with their homework, meet with teachers to discuss class schedules, pay the registration fee for track, listen and advise about friend drama, and do the million other visible and invisible things related to parenting. The next day, I did it all again.
The same way I have for the last six years since my children's father, my husband and co-parent, died.
That day, I became a young widow and an only parent.
Then, I didn't know the term only parent. I knew only that what I was about to do — raise two kids by myself — was going to be hard and humbling. I felt clueless, alone, and terrified.
Now, I know more. Admittedly, I'm still terrified but slightly less clueless, and the least I can do is share those truths with other only parents who might be feeling alone and terrified.
Making decisions alone doesn't get better as time goes by
Making every decision about and for my children, big and small, is exhausting. Every mistake is mine to own, and the weight of this responsibility never lightens, never eases. But only parenting does become more intuitive and the confidence does build.
Other parents don't understand what I'm going through
The only way to truly understand the nuances and challenges of only parenthood is to be an only parent.
Other parents, those with a co-parent or partner who provides support, whether emotional, mental, physical, or financial, can't fully understand. And that's OK. Every parent has their own challenges that no one else can understand.
Finding the people who understand your challenges — there are communities of only parents — can make all the difference.
I remind people I'm an 'only parent'
The purpose of naming myself as an only parent—or solo parent—is not to win the mommy wars, not to prove that I have it harder than other moms. It's to feel seen. To feel a little less invisible in a world built for twos.
Naming my experience and distinguishing it from others is an act of giving myself and other only parents permission to be seen, heard, and understood.
My heart breaks for my kids
My kids will always have that space that can only be filled by their other parent. They will always know an absence — and there's nothing I can do or give to change that. That truth makes my heart break on a daily basis. Also, I know that in learning to live with that absence, in learning to move forward even when the path is hard, my kids are learning perseverance. They're learning — through example and experience — that the hardest moments pass, and you're not defined by your worst days.
Even when it's hard, I'm grateful
When the house is a mess, the kids are pushing all my buttons, and everything seems to be going wrong, there's still an underlying glimmer — sometimes a very faint, barely-there glimmer — of gratitude.
My husband doesn't get to see the kids grow up. He won't see them at their best or their worst, and I know he would have loved to. It means that I can't help but be grateful for the fact that I'm here — I get to be here.
It's a privilege not granted to all.
Read the original article on Business Insider
