When I learned you were going to be part of my son’s life, I couldn’t breathe.
It makes me furiously sad when “intactivists” attack a grieving mother for decisions made in what became the final hours of her child’s life.
You made me a mother, even if the rest of the world didn’t recognize it right away.
There’s nothing to stop her from not only chasing after her dream, but catching up to it, grabbing the tail, and never letting go.
Believing in my capabilities as a young mother when I was only a little older than you are now was part survival instinct, part defense mechanism.
You’re a beautiful, strong, loving, capable woman whose baby/toddler/child/teen is SO lucky to have you as a mama.
Today, my children are with their father, instead of me. They are with him in the new home that he has created for himself, and them, separate from me.
This got her going on how fun “dads” are. “Dads,” for example, “are adventurous and like to do things like jump off cliffs.”
Single parenting is all the same work without a teammate there to tap out with.
I always wanted a bumper sticker that read: SINGLE MOTHERS ARE THE STRONGEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD. For I think now that life makes us strong if we let it.