I have not been a parent very long. But I have learned some things about solo parenting along the way, and I am certain I still have a lot to learn. My personal experience is as a bereaved widow, so I can only speak to single parenting as a result of death. I recognize that parenting solo because of an inactive parent has its own hurdles and triggers.
MENTAL HEALTH
CONFESSIONS OF A
WIDOWED SOLO PARENT WRITTEN BY ALEXIS BRILL
I would like to start with acknowledging my gratitude for the opportunity to write this article for the Mental Health issue of Montana Parent magazine. What an important topic; it is a real honor to be able to contribute. Solo parenting is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is exhausting, lonely and constant. On hard days, you’re parenting alone and, on good days, you’re still parenting alone. You ache for help, and you ache because you’re alone within the vulnerability of it all. The tender moments are like a double-sided mirror: One side is so sweet and precious, seeing or hearing your child do something that amazes you; and the other is so sad because you are the only parent there to experience it. You are the sole decision maker for hard, easy – all – decisions. And the weight of every choice is heavy. Being the “breadwinner” is very heavy. You are the only parent at parent-teacher conferences. You do drop-off and pick-up, every day of every week. There are no sick days. There is no such thing as, “Honey, you get up with her, let me sleep in for a bit,” or, “I’m not feeling well, can you watch her today?” Solo parents don’t have the luxury of falling back on the other parent when the going gets rough. You are “on” all the time. Try travelling as a solo parent, especially with a young child. It can feel impossible. I recently flew with my 2-year-old daughter and it reminded me why we don’t go anywhere these days. Solo parenting is not co-parenting. I am not a single parent. I did not divorce my husband. I am a solo parent because I lost my husband. He died. I am the only parent in my child’s life. My husband (and my daughter’s father), Andrew, died in July 2019 from colon cancer, at age 39, when our daughter Melanie was 6 months old. In an instant, my life changed forever, and my person was gone. I was breastfeeding, working, 14
MAY 2021
caretaking my husband and adjusting to life as a new mom. And then he was gone. He became very sick when our daughter was an infant, after a six-year journey with cancer. It had spread to his lungs before we got pregnant, and once she was born, the cancer became ruthless. He wanted so much to be here with us. We tried it all over the years, and he held on with everything he had, until the cancer took over. Seven months after my husband died, COVID-19 came into our lives. While the world was reeling from this pandemic, I was still very much in the early days of grief, lost at sea. Two months after that, my dad was dying of prostate cancer, and his end-of-life was very similar to Andrew’s. Reliving that experience and losing another important and close person in my life felt surreal. Time simply stopped. The trauma and the grief, and the heavy fog I lived in, was just too much some days. At age 35, I discovered the hollow raw hole that is young widowhood. Only now, nearly two years later, do I feel like I have my feet planted on the ground again. But, trust me, some days I find myself still searching to find it beneath me. This life is a rollercoaster. And I have shown up for my daughter despite that life-shaking pain. I have loved her beyond words since she was in my womb, and loved her even more when I first laid eyes on her. She is everything I have ever wanted. She is my world. I look at her, her innocence, the sparkle in her eyes, the warmest smile on her face and I see pure love. I see my husband, our past and our love story. She is our legacy. She is the ultimate gift of our love story. She is the best gift he gave me, and I have enough love for her for two parents. Being a good mom and showing her a good life is my biggest priority. And the best way I can honor Andrew’s life.
I am sure many divorced or co-parenting parents can relate to this: As I write this, on a trip with Andrew’s family and my daughter, I look around us at our hotel, and all I see are nuclear families. Doting moms and dads with their children. We’re at the pool and I overhear, “Go down the waterslide with dad!” and children yelling “Daddy, daddy!” Couples all around us. My heart aches and I internally wince at all the various triggers around me. These are things I would not have noticed before. You have such a heightened awareness as a solo parent. I underestimated the level of anxiety and fear that would come with solo parenting. I sometimes lose sleep because of my anxious thoughts. With so much uncertainty, it being just Melanie and me, I’ve adopted some coping strategies I’d like to share. Build your tribe: This was especially obvious to me during the pandemic, when my daughter’s day care was closed, and we were on our own. Know who is in your tribe when you need help, whether it’s child care, an errand run, groceries or dinner delivered. Maybe you just need to take a shower or need someone to hang out with your kid so you can take a break. Or maybe you need someone to call so you can cry, scream or have a laugh. You cannot possibly do everything on your own, and don’t try. It leads to burnout and, in my experience, emotional turmoil. I keep a list in my phone of who to call for very specific needs. Please include a great therapist as a part of your tribe, because you need an outlet and talking with someone about the difficulties of solo parenting is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, and be specific: People want to help you, but it is your responsibility to reach out and ask, whether you like it or not. That can be a tough pill to swallow sometimes. But think about what it is you need, and ask for it. It also helps when the annoying prompt comes up: “Let me know if there is anything I can do?” Well, actually, I would really appreciate a meal, you can say. You will know how to respond to this because you have given thought to what is helpful and needed. I
