I will never forget the day I went to pick my little preschooler up from childcare. It was just down the hall from where I taught my own loving class of Super Stars. I signed him out and stepped out onto the playground. As soon as he saw me he jumped from his swing. This being the very same swing that I normally would have to pry him from. As he trudged through the pea gravel, stumbling to get to me, I was growing more excited and bubbling with anticipation to hear what about his day was so wonderful. He had clearly been waiting eagerly to share.

Whew! And then it happened! A new awareness — one of an absent Dad. After all, this was a concept well practiced in Pre-K through the use of attendance charts, graphs, picture sticks, etc. Now, there he was, finally at an age to understand and, at last, verbally ready to have a conversation. You see, its always been apparent that this kid’s comprehension was well beyond his years. (And I’m not saying that in the adoringly doting parent way). He’s surely wondered, guessed, and pondered far too many times, without actually having the words yet to ask? I had been waiting for this day his whole life and yet still felt unprepared to articulate an answer. I’m much better at written communication and wish I could write my son a simple letter. But alas, he could only speak and not yet read and this marvelous age of three. All the research I had done, blogs I’d read, and books borrowed couldn’t have prepared me for the moment. His eyes bright and smiling beaming, he said, “Mama, my teacher said that my dad is coming to the party.”

I was taken aback; angry, sad, and confused. I was speechless. With tears filling my eyes and a lump in my throat, I scooped him up into a tight hug, waved goodbye, and quickly made our getaway to the car. Why did she say this? I know her. She knows our story. Surely my baby boy just misunderstood. I buckled him in and welcomed the conversation. As he spoke, I really listened. All at once-it clicked! As a teacher, I’ve likely made the same mistake. She meant no harm. In the interest of time and management, she had earlier announced to her class how important it was to practice their songs because Mommys and Daddys would be coming on Friday to enjoy the small performance. What my kiddo heard was… Daddy…. coming…. Friday! Our words are so important. They carry meaning. My response to my son must be perfect. By way of a heavenly manifestation, I found the words I needed for giving my son an explanation he could understand.

Your Dad isn’t around us because he is not making good choices. Period. End. Silence. Me, not yet having learned to hold my tongue, felt a need to add, “When we make poor choices, there are always consequences.” As the years have passed this response grew to accommodate the growing curiosities.

At five, when asked “what kind of poor choices?” I responded with a chat about responsibilities and chores, “He’s choosing not to be a daddy. When you have a baby, you have to take good care of it!” They need food, and diapers, and lots of love,” I explained…and again this appeased!

At eight, things got tricky, mental health concerns became more apparent in our lives. The conversation sounded much different at this stage. “Mom, can I ask a question?” “Yes, of course! You can always ask me anything remember?” What followed next, gave me whiplash. He asked, “What did my dad do to get in prison?” Our best conversations happened in the car, him behind me where I cannot see his face, I sure did break my neck trying though. “You said he was in jail or something?… pause…waiting for a reply.”

Myself, now defensive, because I had taken this matter so seriously and had been so careful with choosing my words, now more aware than ever that we hadn’t had near enough conversations. I regularly pondered with what to say. How one is to speak about someone they never actually knew. Someone who was so full of lies and deceit that you question the very name they gave you. I had nothing nice to say and in protecting my lil’ guy from harm and hurt, chose instead to say very little.

After so much planning and preparation, I still managed to fail. Sadly, I left too much room for his imagination to create its own story. It was time for a truth bomb. Fixated more on fighting with me about what I had or had not said, I reiterated my schpiel about poor choices. This time very clearly adding that “ Your fathers poor choice is that he isn’t choosing YOU.” Again struggling not say too much or anything unkind, added “He doesn’t help support you financially, even though you have lots of needs. He doesn’t know you and I think you have a lot of interesting characters and qualities that he would like. He hasn’t been honest, and had avoided contact with me, you, and the law.”

Sure, the day-to-day parenting is challenging. But these real life, emotional, inevitable truths are the moments that make single parenting an unfortunate truth. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and trust me when I say I’m no slacker. I’ve undertaken a lot of challenges in my life.

It’s exhausting trying to juggle schedules, keep kids involved in extracurriculars, and maintain predictable routines. It’s even more challenging when you have children with added special needs.

It’s hard to keep a job and remain in good standing when your children need care and you are one parent short. Many single parents don’t have the means nor the faith to take a leap like I did. I knew there had to be a way to support my family and not sacrifice their mental health. (Mostly because I feel that this is not only my responsibility to them, but also to society). Becoming self-employed has been hard work and we’ve dealt with many hardships but I’m happy to announce that in 2017, we managed to keep the house out of foreclosure and we attended 96 appointments, not including well checks and dental. So, I know from experience that it can be done.

It’s draining having to be present so much of the time. Even in many two-parent households that I know of, one parent isn’t very reliable. They don’t contribute equally and it appears to be a rather lopsided arrangement. This is sad and unfortunate but… even still there is an extra set of eyes and ears and an actual physical body some of the time. This is the key difference. I urge you to not become present and absent at the same time if you are parenting together. Kids need both parents. Trust me. Your child needs you.

Even with the obstacles being thrown our direction, the continual pain and the constant reminders, I strive to teach acceptance of our lives and our family dynamic. We live in a beautiful time where there are examples of all different types of families in my support village. My child will always know that lots of people love him and care for him and want to see him succeed. More importantly, I remind them daily that they always have a reliable Father in our Mighty King, and that is how I know I can do this alone. Because whatever path I’m on is the perfect path for me. And whoever joins us on that path, are the perfect people for us.

In the last year, I’ve come to the freeing realization that I am not responsible for the choices others make. I am not responsible for being a single parent. I did not choose this. I am not liable for his words (or lack thereof) his mistakes, his beliefs, his actions, nor his ideas. I don’t have to carry the guilt. I find peace now in embracing what has been, accepting it, and knowing that I cannot rewrite my son’s story or pretend he wasn’t abandoned by his father. What I can do though is write on, making our story even more remarkable as we go.

To all the proud single and double parents — you are strong!

2 COMMENTS

  1. Thank you for the article. I don’t see a lot of single parent blogs on here so this one was nice to read and was very relatable.

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