The Diary of a Single Mother

One morning, I woke up and decided, I was ready to be a mother. I wanted to see the ten little fingers and ten little toes. I was ready to listen to the heart warming giggles. I thought, the slobby kisses and hugs from a tiny person is just what I needed. At that time, I truly thought I was ready to be a mom. I thought, I was equipped with everything. I graduated university, I was working within my career, I had money in the bank, a stable home, a loving partner, married for over 4 years. And most importantly, I was at my prime pregnancy age. I was under thirty and didn’t want the biological clock ticking ahead. Motherhood, oh it sounds so sweet.

The first year was a breeze, I had it down pack. Our weekends were filled with activities. There was swimming and playdates, brunch and dinner, library visits and museums, walks in the park and little play gyms. We were on the go. I was tired but I enjoyed the laughs, I was addicted to being the best mom I thought I needed to be. The mom I craved as a child.

As the second year approached, life happened. Having my daughter matured me in many ways. I got a divorce, I lost interest in my career, I was exhausted and not to mention, a pandemic. Motherhood, I thought, how could this be the hardest job in my life. I planned for this, I prepared, I had it figured out in my head. I’m going to be a great mom, I thought. I’m going to master this thing called motherhood. But the one thing I forget, or didn’t know, or maybe never acknowledged, once you become a mother, the job never ends even if life happens. And life has a special way of testing you with several curveballs at once.

Motherhood, trying to find the balance, but not forgetting yourself in the process. Trying to be the best at it but feeling like a failure to often. Trying to uplift yourself every morning but falling right back down by the end of the day because it’s exhausting. Needing some alone time, and when you’re alone, spending all your time thinking about them because you miss them so much. Realizing you need help but being afraid to ask for it, then asking for help but feeling guilty for needing it. The dichotomy. Being a mother, the most trying job.

Someone once said, “we aren’t given a dream if we don’t have the capacity to fulfill it.” Although, I feel like giving up every other day, I can’t help but feel fortunate. Fortunate to have the experience, to live my life fully because motherhood has always been a part of my dream. I always knew I would be a mom and I am beyond thankful I get to experience it. Currently, I’ve recognized I need to work on finding the balance, setting schedules, and remembering to ask for help when I need it regardless of the mom guilt. I am a mom, I am a human, I am not a superhero and despite what many say about moms, I cannot do it all.

Motherhood, the hardest job I’ve experienced thus far but it’s the milestone where I found myself. Every day I look to my little one for motivation and inspiration. It sucks you dry then fill you up. It’s been two and a half years and I’m trying to find the balance. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, I say. Seeing the beautiful little face, or getting unexpected hugs and kisses melts my heart and keeps me going. I’ve accomplished the first part of my dream, becoming a mom. And despite it all, there’s nothing in the world I would trade it for…well maybe a billion dollars. (just joking) Motherhood, the most trying yet rewarding job in the world.