I’ve been a mom for almost eight years. In that time, I have often referred to myself as a single parent, although technically I am not. I have been with my partner for over fourteen years, and we share all three of our children biologically.
I have always been a very independent person. I got my first job at 15 and worked as much as I could, even after the birth of my first daughter in 2018. I fully embraced the working mom life and prepared to continue it after my son was born in September of 2020. Then Covid happened.
It was decided that I would stay home with the kids. At first, there wasn’t much of an option. The world as we knew it had spun into a global pandemic, and my job went on an indefinite hiatus. My partner’s profession as a carpenter never really took that much of a hit. Now that everyone was home, they decided on all new home renovations.
When the world started to open back up again, I felt as if I didn’t really have a significant part in it anymore. I had my third child in 2022, and my entire existence went into raising my babies.
I don’t want to say that I have an unsupportive partner, because during the time I was a stay-at-home parent, we relied completely on his income (as a family of five) and were very fortunate to do so. He works hard, almost to a fault, and provides for our family.
That being said, I was and always will be the default parent.
I woke up in the middle of the night to feed whatever kid needed it. I did the bedtimes. I did the baths. I did the housework – the cooking and the cleaning. I opened the fruit snacks while upstairs in the shower, even though their dad was sitting on the couch downstairs.
I didn’t get the girls’ nights because it was my job to be with the kids. I didn’t get to walk out the door without thinking; in fact, I didn’t get to walk out the door without at least 15 items in my hands, ever. As much as I loved being there for every single moment, I also started to resent my partner because I was there for every single moment.
My entire life became my children while I put my life completely on the back burner. But I pushed through. It’s not as if I didn’t want the help; it got to a point where it was just easier to do it myself.
I scrolled through social media and saw a mom complain that her husband wouldn’t be there for one night, and she needed all the luck with “solo momming.” As much as I felt for her, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes a bit as I thought to myself, “I’ve been solo momming it for years.”
My kids came with me everywhere. Every doctor appointment, every trip to the grocery store. Was it easy? Absolutely not. But it was what I had to do, and eventually I got used to it. It became the norm. But if one more person told me that I “had my hands full,” I’d probably slap them in the face. Maybe. But I still laughed and carried on.
About eight months ago, I put my foot down and decided that I’ve had enough of the SAHM gig. I loved (most) of my time with my kids for almost eight years. I saw all the firsts and the last firsts that really tug on your heartstrings. But I decided that it was time, and I went back to work.
I’ve been fortunate to find a job that keeps me on the same schedule as the kids and still offers flexibility. So far, it’s been great. I’ve started to find that little bit of ME again. I basically forced my partner to step up; I don’t take no for an answer. I shifted my focus back to me.
My children will be 4, 6, and 8 this year, and I feel as if I’ve finally made it through the trenches. I am raising independent kids without even realizing it, though I now get why, since it’s all they’ve ever known from me. I like this stage of life. It may have taken me years, but I think that I finally found my place. It seems I’ve intimidated my partner a bit with my assertion of newfound independence, but I kind of like that. Don’t tell him, though.
You can find yours again, too. We are women, we are strong. We are stubborn, and we are fierce. We do not need anyone to tell us that we can’t do something – it will make us do it more.
If I can reach just one person struggling to lose their identity in motherhood and not see the light, I am happy. You may not be living the fairytale that you imagined, and that’s okay. It won’t be easy. It will be messy and a constant question of “how am I going to do this,” but you CAN and you WILL.
We do what we need to do for our children, and while we always want to show our resilience, sometimes we need to show our struggle, too. This is how we teach them to persevere, never to give up.
Looking back now, I wish I had done some things differently, not for my children but for myself. That being said, I am hardened now, but not necessarily in a bad way. I know that I can take whatever is thrown at me, and I have all of those seemingly endless years to thank for that.
At the end of the day, my children will always come first, but now I will make sure I keep myself in mind, too. It was me (and three babies) against the world for so long, but now it’s our time to really live it.
