When my first marriage ended, my children were still very small. My eldest, Emma, was just two years old, while my youngest, Lily, had just celebrated her first birthday. The divorce was swift, and since I was the one who initiated it, I didn’t want to drag things out. I consented to an arrangement that granted my ex-husband residential custody, which meant our daughters would attend school near his home. This also resulted in me having them one day less each week. My schedule was set to include Sunday nights, Wednesday evenings, and every other weekend, with holidays strictly governed by a rigid schedule known as local rule 21, which we adhered to meticulously at first.
The transition to single motherhood, coupled with the emotional upheaval of my separation, took a significant toll on my mental health. I was still grappling with the loss of my mother while managing my two girls, working full-time, and teaching part-time. My marriage had crumbled, and it felt like my entire world was collapsing around me. I often wondered if I was experiencing a manic episode, postpartum depression, or perhaps even post-traumatic stress. After countless medical appointments and bills, no clear answer emerged, leaving me feeling overwhelmed and lost.
Other mothers frequently expressed disbelief at how I managed my situation, often saying, “I can’t imagine being away from my kids. You must be so unhappy.” The truth was, I was struggling, but it wasn’t solely due to the time apart from my children. I needed those moments of solitude to regain my footing and piece my life back together. Yet, all I heard from others was the refrain of how they would be “lost without their babies.”
It seemed that every mother I encountered felt compelled to remind me of my supposed misery, reinforcing a narrative that I should be suffering in silence. While I adored my girls with every fiber of my being, I wasn’t the type of mom who sobbed at the thought of returning to work after maternity leave. Instead, I was the one who relished the idea of a quiet breakfast alone on the first day back at work, even though breakfast wasn’t my favorite meal. It was a moment of celebrating my individuality, a chance to bask in silence and collect my thoughts after a whirlwind of 90 days.
Sadly, the women around me didn’t offer the support I needed; instead, they instilled a sense of guilt. For years, I grappled with the feeling that I was a bad mother for enjoying my time alone. No one ever said, “What a relief it must be to catch up on laundry or enjoy a peaceful moment without interruption.” Instead, I felt like an outcast, allowing the stigma to cloud my self-worth.
Reflecting back, I remember feeling similarly during my maternity leaves. Those 90 days felt like the hardest job I had ever taken on. With minimal help from my partner, I was on duty around the clock. My first daughter, Emma, would scream for hours, and despite my best attempts to soothe her, nothing seemed to work. I discovered that running the vacuum in her room would miraculously quiet her, but I felt guilty resorting to this method, using it only in desperate moments.
Neither of my maternity leaves felt like a vacation. I was recovering from C-sections while navigating life with a newborn. Every mother I spoke to painted a rosy picture of this time as the most rewarding experience of their lives, never mentioning the challenges or emotional turmoil. I felt ashamed for looking forward to a rare grocery trip alone, convinced I was a terrible mom for wanting a breather.
Fast forward to now, my daughters are eight and nine, and my ex-husband has become more relaxed about our parenting arrangement. I now enjoy more time with my girls than I ever imagined possible, with access to them on Sundays, every other weekend, and additional weeknights. This newfound flexibility has allowed me to focus on my interests. I bake, organize community events, attend meetings, and even sleep in. I’ve learned to embrace my independence, and in doing so, I’ve discovered who I truly am.
To those who once claimed they couldn’t survive a minute without their kids, I now say, “You’re fibbing!” There’s a pervasive societal belief, especially in the United States, that a mother’s life should revolve entirely around her children. If you find joy in your own pursuits or feel stressed when apart from your kids, you’re labeled a “bad mom.” This stigma discourages honesty and support among women. We often wear smiles, pretending everything is perfect, while behind closed doors, many of us are struggling.
What we really need is a culture of openness where women can share their stories and support one another in navigating the complexities of motherhood. We ought to encourage each other to take time for self-discovery, to recognize that a little personal time doesn’t diminish our love for our children. In fact, it can enhance our ability to cherish the moments we do share.
Now, when people ask how I manage it all, I respond with confidence. My understanding of my own needs and limits allows me to thrive as a parent. Sure, a lot of my free time goes into planning activities with my children, but I also prioritize moments just for me. That time away helps me appreciate our time together even more, making me a more present and engaged parent. And that is what truly matters.
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In summary, embracing my personal time has transformed my approach to parenting. By valuing my independence, I have become a more fulfilled and engaged mother. The journey to self-discovery is essential, and we must support one another in sharing our truths rather than succumbing to societal pressures.
Keyphrase: Embracing Independence in Parenting
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