13 minute read
Confessions of a Widowed Solo Parent
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, 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 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.
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
have been pleasantly surprised by how willing people are to help with certain things. Having time to cook dinner is a tough one for me. I have learned the hard way (after a screamfest ensued as I scrambled to make macaroni and cheese after day care) that I need to have dinner on the table and ready by the time I pick up her up. I now have her meal ready by 5 p.m. My in-laws never hesitate to drop groceries off when I can’t make it to the store and, after I asked, they brought meals regularly during the COVID shutdown. I have a close friend who has sushi delivered regularly because she knows how much I struggle during busy weeks to have dinner ready.
Adjust your expectations: As I stated earlier, you can’t do it all. I have really had to adjust my expectations as I am a natural “doer” who takes things on, filling my plate with overcommits, a stacked list and packed schedule. Solo parenting has really turned my world upside down in this way. I have had to drastically change my expectations of what I can get done in a day, a week or a month.
I have also had to adjust my expectations of what life looks like. I remind myself it won’t always look like this. And that’s OK. My husband used to often say, “People overestimate what they can do in one year and underestimate what they can do in 10.” I think of this often. It is one of several wise nuggets he left me.
Have a Mantra: I have a few. I self-soothe using internal mantras when things heat up and life gets intense. When solo parenting is especially challenging, usually on days when Melanie is extra crabby, one of my go-tos (learned from a parenting class) is “Bigger, Stronger, Wiser,” remembering that I am the bigger person, stronger and wiser. I am the parent and it is my responsibility to show up for her in a bigger, stronger, wiser way. I also have a few other regulars: “It’s OK, and it will be OK.” Or, “I’ve got this.” Simple things I can tell myself internally to carry on easier. I also have a strong belief that it won’t always be this hard. Life is hard now, but it won’t always be this hard. I believe in validating myself and my experience, while also soothing myself with positive reassurance and hope for the future.
Plan Ahead: This has been trial and error, but I’ve learned that planning ahead is huge. For me, holidays, our wedding anniversary and Andrew’s “death-iversary” are especially hard times. I know now that the days leading up to these milestone dates are harder than the actual days themselves (for me personally, not for everyone). So, I plan accordingly. The week before the day he died, for example, I know I need extra help with Melanie and extra self-support. I lean heavily on my mom during times like this. My sweet mom came up for my birthday last year and spent it with Melanie and me. The week that Andrew died just so happens to also be the week of my birthday, and I have learned to plan that week with extra, extra care and intention. Holidays I also plan with extra thoughtfulness. Know when support is needed and plan ahead. Carve out hard days with intention and know who you want to be around on those days (and also who you may need space from). Plan ahead for your child’s birthday and special milestones. Holidays as a solo parent are tough, so make sure you have the right people around you.
Talk about it with your child: Educate your child about solo parenting through story and discussion. This will look different depending on the age of your child(ren), of course. My daughter is not yet aware of her dad being gone in the way that older children are. But I believe she has body memories of him, and she had her own reaction to his death. She didn’t sleep well for weeks after her daddy died. She is very attached to the bunny that a friend gave her when he was dying, it’s her personal security blanket that we take everywhere we go. She also has a heightened need for knowing where loved ones are. When we are with close family, for example, she needs to know where each grandparent and auntie is in the room. I really look forward to when she will begin to ask questions about her dad and we can talk more about him together. Words like “passed away” or “gone to sleep” can cause fear and confusion with children, so I will use “died” and “dead,” even though it may feel harsh. For now, I often integrate daddy into our talks (and will continue to in the future as well), and we look at photos and videos of him. I can imagine this might feel very different for parents who are divorced or estranged, but I also believe it’s important to talk to your children about their parents, so they have a better sense of identity and the whole picture. It can help with self-esteem. Talk about their other parent, and try to answer their questions in a positive and helpful way. Be willing to listen without interruption. Know that they may not be ready or willing to express themselves. Talking with a counselor could be a great way for them to open up. Offer them reassurance, and respect their emotions around the loss of their parent and reassure them they are safe.
Make time for you: I know this is a tricky one, but it’s oh-so-very important. Whatever it is that brings you joy and helps you cope, make time for it and make it a priority. Exercise, therapy, alone time, friends, reading, cooking, getting fresh air in nature, a splurgy spa day – whatever it is, schedule it in the best you can. Even in little chunks of time. It will pay large dividends and help you be a better parent.
Breathe and remember to laugh: Parenting is hard. Solo parenting is that much harder. Lots of deep breaths. This is another one of my internal mantras. I remind myself to breathe. I also help my daughter to deep-breathe when she’s upset (“Smell the flowers and blow out the candles”). Breathe through it and remember to laugh. Being playful and finding humor helps me to move through each day.
I was listening to a solo parenting podcast one day and the woman said it’s easier to be a solo parent because you have one less relationship to maintain (the relationship with your spouse or partner), and you get to be in control when parenting alone. I understand her good intentions in saying this and I appreciate the silver lining outlook, but I disagree with her perspective. I also don’t want to compare. Parenting is hard, all around. But I would give anything to have my husband back. To be able to have the privilege of seeing him interact with our daughter. I can’t even put into words how much I ache for and desire that. To be able to hear her call out, “Daddy!” and be in the presence of both of them together, I cannot imagine a greater gift. I only got six months of them being together, and she was an infant. My husband is buried underground and we have this beautiful, thriving, innocent growing toddler that we created. It’s a pain I carry with me and will for the rest of my life. I read once that becoming a young widow is learning to live with a massive hole in your heart. Just like becoming a parent is knowing that your heart is outside of your body. I am learning to live with the hole in my heart, and I am learning to live as a solo parent. I trust it won’t always feel this hard. I also know it will always feel hard throughout my entire life. But I trust it won’t always be this raw, this intense.
If you are a solo parent and you want to connect, please email me at brillalexis@gmail. com. I would love to hear from you.
I leave you with a quote that speaks to me during this time in my life: “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.” ~ Ernest Hemingway
Carry on, my fellow solo parents. Carry on.
