Category Archives: Going Solo: Single Parenthood

Going Solo: Single Parenthood, Preggers

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“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

~Lao Tzu

Pregnancy has highs and lows. Tonight should have been one of my highs, but it was a low. At first I thought I wouldn’t write about it, but then I wouldn’t be sticking to my original goal of this blog. I decided to write this blog to openly share my honest experience. This post is not about getting sympathy for my situation, but to be honest with you about even the hardest parts of all of this. It is not about pretending that the single woman’s pregnancy is all strength and wonderfulness. It is not about hiding my real fears and frustrations. It is about telling you the truth.

About a month ago, I signed up for a six-week childbirth class. This is not a Lamaze class but a class all about pregnancy and childbirth and methods to make labor and childbirth as easy as possible. I am so excited to meet my daughter and to be honest; I am excited for the birthing process. I feel like it’s such an amazing thing that can only happen to women and only women can do.  This child birthing class is the first real step towards that crazy wonderful day.

When I got home from work, I got my list, gathered my pillows and blankets, changed my clothes, and filled up my water bottle. I was so excited to go learn about childbirth and what I am about to experience. When I walked into the class, the chairs were set up in a circle in pairs. I didn’t even notice at first until all the other couples came into the room one by one and sat down. I looked around and suddenly felt more alone than I can ever remember feeling before. There we were: ten excited giggling couples and me. I wanted to grab my pillows and blanket and run for the door. I don’t know why I didn’t think this through or predict this would happen. I have enjoyed this pregnancy so much and felt so supported by the people around me that I haven’t really felt like it was any different than any other woman’s pregnancy.

As each of the couples went around the room introducing themselves and talking about how excited they were for their babies, tears welled up in my eyes. The husbands all joked about passing out and hovering in the corner on the day their wives gave birth and the wives laughed and kissed them and I suddenly realized how this is supposed to look. It was the first time I realized I really am doing this alone. It was the first time I felt unadulterated anger towards my daughter’s father. I have tried to tell myself it is better to do this alone than with someone who doesn’t want to be here or who treats me poorly. I have tried to be forgiving towards him.  I have tried not to focus on him or whether or not I agree with how he has handled all of this. But in this moment, in this class, when I sat there beside an empty chair in a room full of couples, all I could think about was how hurt and angry I am with him. I just cannot understand a man who would simply walk away from a life that he created and leave me, a person he once called a friend, to do this alone.

Believe it or not, this has probably been the lowest moment in my pregnancy. I made it through the 2.5 hours of class, said my goodbyes and made it to my car before totally breaking down and crying all the way home. This was not my finest moment in any respect. On the drive home I decided that I am going to focus on my daughter and keep repeating to myself that I am doing this for her. That thought alone is the only thing that will get me through the doors of my class for the next five weeks and it is the only thing that will get me though the other moments I am about to face alone. With each class I attend and each appointment or event  I go to alone, I will get stronger and stronger and it will all be ok.  It will be the immense love I have for her that will teach me to be strong, teach me to stand alone and be ok with that feeling, and it will be that love that will help me truly forgive.

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, Losing Dad, Preggers

My Silver Lining Playbook

 I am not perfect. I am broken. I am a mess. I make mistakes. Sometimes I make major mistakes. I hurt people. Sometimes I am a little crazy. The thing is, so are you. So are all of us. We are all human and there isn’t one of us made without flaws and who doesn’t make mistakes. We all have ugly parts, ugly things in our past, and maybe even in our present.  The best we can each do is to try our hardest and move on when we make mistakes.

I just watched a movie with one of my best friends called The Silver Lining Playbook. I am a single pregnant woman and my friend is going through a divorce. We went to high school together where we talked about our dreams for our future. We talked about meeting Mr. Right and marrying him and having a house and kids and being happy and healthy. Neither one of us ever dreamed we would be in the position we are in right now. We both trusted men that were not Mr. Right and are hurt as a result. This movie was something we both needed. In the movie, the two main characters have had bad things happen in their lives and they both respond by being just a little crazy. Still, they also both have positive outlooks on their futures and are striving to heal themselves so they can move on in their lives. They embrace their crazy and admit and accept it as part of who they are. They are both looking at the clouds and seeing the silver lining. They see the light coming through and make a plan in their life to clear the clouds.

I am alone with a baby on the way. I don’t know exactly what my living situation will look like. I don’t know how my work schedule or social schedule will look. I don’t know what it feels like to drop a newborn baby off at a daycare center. I don’t know what I’m going to do when my baby gets sick the first time. When she takes her first step and giggles for the first time, I wonder if I will be the only one who will be there to witness such an incredible event. I wonder if my daughter will resent me for being a working mother. I wonder what I will do the first time her school holds a “daddy and daughter” event. I wonder if her father will ever come around and be in her life. I wonder and then I stop. If I don’t stop, the craziness creeps in.

We cannot live our lives worrying about the “what ifs” and thinking about all of the worst-case scenarios. We cannot be afraid of everything that “could” happen. We can’t because that is not living. For three years I went to the hospital with my dad, saw the poisonous Chemo enter and destroy his body, and listen to the doctors say there was no cure. For three years the diagnosis never changed. I was going mad trying to figure out how to make it all stop so I wouldn’t face that inevitable day, but I had to have hope. For three years, I believed some kind of miracle would happen and my dad would live. It didn’t happen and the day came when I watched him take his last breath. Had I continued to worry about that moment and dwell on the fact that I was going to lose him, it still wouldn’t have prepared me to live through that moment any easier. If anything, having a blind hope that something amazing and wonderful would happen and I would never have to watch him die helped me get through each day.

Call me crazy. Tell me I am not facing reality. Tell me that my hopes will only hurt me. I don’t care. My silver lining playbook is my hope that something amazing will happen this time. I will drop my daughter off at daycare and it will be hard, but I will get through it. My daughter will have an audience the first time she giggles and walks. She will get sick and I will have someone with me helping me when she does. She will be proud of me for being an independent working woman. And, at some point, her father will show up. I believe that in my heart and I will be ok if that is not how things work out. I will no longer feel guilty for my mistakes and beat myself up for them. I won’t let others make me feel guilty either. From this point forward, I embrace my messy, ugly, crazy past and mistakes and I accept that they are part of me. From now on, I will look for the silver lining in everything and hope for these clouds in my life and my daughter’s life to clear so that we both may bask in the sun.

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose Infinite hope.”

~Martin Luther King, Jr.

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, Preggers

Cinderella

I met an incredible artist tonight. Her name is Georgianna Hicks. First of all, check out her portfolio:  http://zealisnotacrime.carbonmade.com/

Cinderella

She created this depiction of Cinderella and I love it. I am currently trying to decide how to talk to my daughter about men. I saw this and thought, how perfect! This is the reality of Cinderella. This is how life is more likely to turn out (not exactly stabbing Prince Charming, but definitely feeling the anger when he turns out to be the opposite of what we expected). So, why should I lie to my daughter and tell her fairy tales of how some wonderful man will ride in on his while horse and carry her into the sunset? My story with men is not good right now, but it can be good, and for many of my girlfriends, it is.

When I found out that I was having a daughter, I immediately thought that I needed to decide what I am going to tell her about men. My own mother didn’t give me many warnings about men or much guidance in that department. Why would she? She found my dad in her late teens and was married to him when she was 20. She found what I consider to be the perfect man without a whole lot of trial and error. By the time she was my age, she was happily married to a wonderful man and had three children. The rest of us are not so lucky. I feel the need to let my daughter know up front what this is going to be like for her. And, if she turns out to be attracted to women, I have plenty of friends who can help her out with great advice. For now, however, I am going to assume that she will be dealing with men and give her a little advice.

When I told my friend I was going to write this blog, we were with her 8 year old daughter. Her mother and I asked her what she thought of boys and she said, “Boys stink!” In hearing this, I thought I could probably just write those two words and it would be enough to prepare my own daughter for what she needed to know. The problem is that my father was an incredible man and my daughter’s uncles are incredible men. My own uncles are incredible men. My male cousins are incredible men. One of them is a single father of three and, though I don’t see him often, I admire him and am impressed by his courage and strength as he works hard to raise his children. I have often thought that I just have bad luck with men and that perhaps the women in my life just lucked out in a way that I never will.

Let’s be honest about my situation right now. I’m five months pregnant and my daughter’s father has not done anything helpful or supportive during this pregnancy. The only thing he has done is to try to pretend none of this is happening. He was my friend and I have known him for years. I trusted him and thought highly of him at one point in my life. How am I supposed to explain to her that there are good men in this world when I feel stupid for believing they existed? We grow up with this belief that our soul mate is out there somewhere and that he is going to swoop in and woo us and we will live happily ever after. So, when a man shows us a bit of attention and starts the wooing, we trust that it is real and believe what we are told. Our problem is not the men. Our problem is our approach. We need to stop being doormats and start being a little bitchy.

Tune in next time for my explanation……

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, Preggers

A Letter to my Daughter

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” ~Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter

Dear Daughter,

Today I had my ultrasound. Today I found out you are a girl! I don’t want to forget a single moment of this, so I decided to write you a letter. To begin with, I want you to know that although this is not a traditional pregnancy where a father and mother are celebrating together, I am not alone in my celebration of you. There is always someone willing to go with me to appointments and there is always someone there to help me when I need it.

Today, on the day when I feel like I first met you, your Aunt Courtney was there with me. You need to know who she is to me. Courtney was a good friend in High School. We both went to college and went our separate ways. Then, my father died. It was the worst thing that ever happened in my life. I loved him so much and was not ready to lose him. After not seeing her for more than a decade, Courtney came to the funeral. A friend like that is a true friend. When things are really hard in your life, your real friends will be the ones who are there for you and with you. This is something I learned as an adult, but I want you to know that now. Also, if you think you’ve lost a friend because your lives go in different directions, they will come back at just the right time. Courtney came back when I lost my dad and has been at my side throughout my pregnancy. I pray you find a friend like her.

Courtney filmed much of the ultrasound, so I will be sure you see that video someday. Seeing you was breathtaking. By the time you read this letter, you will know me well enough to know that I talk a lot. Apparently, God has sent the cure because you make me speechless. I thought I would be crying through the whole thing, but I could barely breathe or blink. Your little toes and feet and legs and hands are all so perfect and inside me right now. I cannot believe you are in there moving around and stretching out and becoming this amazing person. At one point, you pressed your face against the ultrasound and peeked at us. I saw your little nose and eyelids and mouth. That is when the tears welled up. It was like you were saying, “here I am, mommy. I can’t wait to meet you!” I’m going to be totally corny and just tell you that you had me at hello. I am so in love with you right now that I can’t even stand myself.

The rest of the day I felt like I was high. I know you need more time to grow, but I don’t even want to wait for the next five months. I am not sure how I am going to contain myself or focus on anything important. I want to write this now because I know there will come a time in about 15 or 16 years when you think I hate you and want to ruin your life. I know, because I have been there with my own mother (It will be this one little phase and we will get through it and be crazy about each other again). The fact is that I cannot think of one thing on this entire planet that could ever make me not love you. I cannot think of one person who I love as much as I love you. I can’t even explain the feelings that I am feeling right now except to say that I feel whole and complete for the first time in a long time. This letter will be ongoing and I will add many other letters to it. I want to start writing down the things I want to teach you about life.

For now, however, I want to promise you that I will always always love you. You will mess up and make mistakes and I will still love you.  You will hurt my feelings, but I will still love you. You will make decisions about your life that I don’t agree with, but I will still love you. You came into my life when I least expected it and you filled an empty space. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for knowing when I needed you and coming at just the right moment. I love you.

Love,

Mom

“And I thank you for choosing me

To come through unto life to be

A beautiful reflection of his grace

For I know that a gift so great

Is only one God could create”

~Lauryn Hill, To Zion

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Going Solo: Single Parenthood, Losing Dad, Preggers

The Absense of a Father

My father called me just to see how I was doing. He called me often. Sometimes he texted. There was never a reason, he just called. He got me. He understood me. He always seemed interested in what I was doing even if he didn’t quite agree or understand what I was doing. He asked me about my art. He remembered all of my friends names and usually remembered details about them. Sometimes he asked how specific friends were doing even if I hadn’t seen them in years because he knew I liked to keep in touch even when I wasn’t around them anymore. To my dad, I mattered. He called me to warn me about icy roads and dangerously hot weather. He always wanted to make sure I was safe and knew how to handle any weather that came my way.

My dad made me meatloaf and oatmeal. He took me out for Chinese and we always had to order more duck sauce. He took me to the Indian buffet and we’d sweat through the spices while we caught up and laughed. he hung my pictures. He fixed my doors. He was the man in my life when I didn’t have one. He drove me out to Chicago when I decided to be a nanny one year. It didn’t work out and he knew it wouldn’t work out, but he drove me out there anyway. He told corny jokes and he wore silly ties sometimes. He told me he was proud of me.

I lucked out. I had an amazing dad who was also an incredible man. A lot of people can’t say that. A lot of my friends don’t say that. When he got sick, I had hope  and believed they would find some cure. Having to imagine this world without him in it was something I couldn’t comprehend. I also knew how much time he spent caring for other people and loving other people and loving God. He was honest. He was kind. He gave to others and helped others. He was a man of integrity. Surely, I thought, God would have mercy on him and give him more time.

When he died, I went numb. He was sick for so long that it just seemed unreal when he wasn’t there anymore. It’s been more than a year and I still think I am going to see him walk through the door. More than anything, I want to see him walk through the door of my hospital room and sit in the chair to hold his new grandchild. If I could have him for just one more day, that would be the one.

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