Solo Parenting is Hard
Solo Parenting is Hard
Being a solo parent is hard
Especially when compounded by grief and loss.
The pressure is immense;
Pressure to fill the void,
To meet their needs of loss,
To tenderly care for their confounded hearts,
To be Mr. Mom and Dad.
They’re so vulnerable
And I wish I could take away their pain
And settle their hearts.
I wish I could return what they’ve lost
And protect them
But I can’t,
Not fully anyway.
So I endeavor to give myself to them,
To love and provide for them,
And I’m learning how to listen better.
Day-to-day tasks and survival require so much;
Getting them up for school, fed, and out the door,
Walking them to school,
Managing the tantrums and fights,
Providing snacks and meals,
Cleaning the kitchen,
Staying on top of the laundry,
Brushing teeth,
Overseeing showers and baths,
Reading and snuggling before bed,
Managing the illnesses and ouchies, the sadness, the rebellion,
Still finding time to manage the yard, keep everything picked up and in order,
Paying the bills,
Working an almost full-time job to provide,
All the while finding time to pray with and for them,
Teaching them the doctrines of our holy religion.
The sum game of this life is to break even,
To survive and advance
And that is demoralizing
Because it’s hard to get ahead,
To have the margin for self, for progress.
(But amidst it all, there has been progress through God’s grace).
And yet, many share their opinions
Sometimes explicitly,
But often with passing comments along the way.
I’m sure many don’t understand,
Understand what I’m holding,
What I face day to day.
I’m doing the work of two people
But it feels like more than that
As the specters of grief and loss are here too.
A person is gone but with that rip was a part of all of us
And it’s the sum of those missing parts of our family life that increases the void to fill.
I’m doing it
And marching forward
And the functioning is in the face of an undergirding of heightened anxiety and stress
But we’re figuring it out together.
I don’t like the pressure of always being on
And having to operate under the conditions of loss
But I know God is growing us through this.
He has grown me
And truly allowed me to know more of Himself in a way I never imagined possible.
I’m thankful that through absorbing loss and facing the daily grind
God grows us
And God changes us.
Written Thursday, September 21, 2023 (day 282). Probably off the heels of the musing written the day before and still feeling the heaviness and all that is on me, this came out. It was cathartic to write this in the evening lull between putting down the younger two boys and the older two. It felt good to finally write this and put this all down, get this out. It’s true. (And probably written from a low point of being tired and exhausted still).
I don’t always feel this way and am able to manage and function sufficiently well enough a lot of the time but this musing is nonetheless true. It feels like I’m always drinking from a firehouse or managing a lot with them…
