An Open Letter to the Single Mother on Mother's Day

98% of the year, I’m happy with my situation. I’m a single work from home mother to two beautiful children, a three and a half year old boy, and a one and a half year old girl. I’m in no rush to find a partner, and I love having my independence. But, every year on Mother’s Day, I wake up with a sad ache in my heart. It’s one of the very few days a year where I wish I was waking up to someone who loves me, where waking up in an empty bed might mean that I’ve been left to sleep in, and maybe I’ll come out to a cup of coffee and a simple breakfast with my family. Where someone who truly, deeply cares for me stops and says “Wow. I see what you do for these kids, I see how hard you work to provide for them and see that they never want for anything, and I think it’s beautiful.”

The thing is, it’s not even the feeling of loneliness that gets to me on Mother’s Day. It’s the wish that, for this one day of the year, I could just feel appreciated. I don’t need a massive party in my honor, I don’t need a pile of presents, I don’t even need some vacation away from my children. I want to feel seen for the things that I do, instead of being brushed off with things like “That’s just what a mother does. What, do you want a medal or something?” But, I’m a single mother in the middle of a pandemic. How am I supposed to be seen? It’s not like two toddlers are going to understand what I do, what I go through in being their mother, what I went through to have them, and at some points, what I had to do to keep them safe. So, I plan something sweet for my own mother and call it a day.

But what about the kid's father? Great question. In my case, my son’s father picked up and moved across the country. Sure, he pays child support, has two video calls a week with his son, and even made the trip out to see his son for a few weeks. But there’s no visibility for the mother who soothes that son from his nightmares, who knows all his little quirks and tricks. My daughter’s father was out of the picture in every way by the time she was eight months old. I mean this in every sense of the phrase, but we are much better off without him. I’ll leave it at that. Then I remember that, even when I wasn’t a single mother on Mother’s Day… it was just another day. It just so happened that a handful of people said “Happy mother’s day” in passing, but otherwise, nothing was different than any other day.

It’s on days like this one where all I really want is for somebody who knows me and cares for me, holds me, and tells me “Hey. You’re doing a great job with these kids. You’re a good mom. I see what you do, I see your heartaches and your triumphs and your fears, and I am proud of you.” I want to be swept up into a warm hug, and you know what? I might even cry. But I want it to be okay, no matter if I laugh or cry because the person holding me is just proud of how far I’ve come since giving birth. I want them to see the work that goes in, and smile that they know these kids will never be lacking if I get any say in it. I wish for one moment where I’ve earned that look of awe in my partner's eyes, that pride to be a part of this family unit.

So, this is an open letter to all the mothers who feel like I do. I see you. You bust your rump caring for those kids, you pour your love into them hoping to see them to grow into good, loving little humans. You lose sleep to soothe them, you wake up early to make them their favorite breakfast. You juggle your schedule to care for them, to make sure your life accommodates your work, keeping up the home, and the needs of those little creatures. There are some days that you might feel like the worst mom in the world, because you are dropping from exhaustion, and you snap more easily at their ability to push your buttons. There are some days that you finally feel put together because you wrangled those little tornados and things went well. You lose your mind worrying about them, and your heart swells with pride every time they succeed.

I am so proud of everything you are, and everything you’ve overcome. You are your child’s fiercest protector and their loudest cheerleader, and you do it out of love, not an obligation. You are a damn powerhouse. If you haven’t been told today, this message is for you; you are amazing. You are incredible. You deserve love, kindness, and recognition for how hard you work. You are beautiful. You are loved. I love you.

Happy Mother’s Day.