I’ve never really been the “marriage” kind of girl. I don’t do well in relationships. I can’t stand to be around the same person too often, the thought of sharing my bed makes me cringe, and I just haven’t met a man who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot.
Around my 24th birthday, maternal desires hit me like a drunk bitch at a bar. I went from being pretty sure that I never wanted to kids, to wanting one desperately. It wasn’t a need I had to feel loved, or any psychological, subconscious thing like that. I wanted to be a mom. I also realized that the chances of me meeting a decent man and being married by my 30th birthday was slim to none. And I was, and still am, okay with that. Most days I really enjoy being single. I felt like in today’s day and age, I shouldn’t let the lack of a committed relationship stop me from becoming a mom.
So I decided to do something that a lot of people thought(and still do) was really fucking stupid. I decided that I was going to have a baby, on my own, with no father in the picture. There were aspects of what I did that were really stupid. In my quest to find a man who was interesting in co-parenting, I ended up finding a complete twat waffle that changed his mind about wanting to be at all involved after I found out I was pregnant. And right before I found out I was pregnant I broke my foot and lost my job. Fuck me.
There are people in my family that feel I did a very selfish thing by deciding to have a child without being married. Well, there are a lot of married parents out there that fucking suck at raising children, including some of my critics in my family.
I will admit, however, that after my son was born I wished I did have a man in my life to be my son’s father. Not because I am lonely, or because being a single mom is scary. But because I had this beautiful, joyful baby….and nobody to share that miracle with. It was hard, watching him sleep peacefully at night, looking so beautiful and innocent, and having nobody that was in awe of that as well. That was hard.
Another concern others in my life have, is how I will handle it when my son is old enough to ask questions. Some people think I will lie to him about the circumstances surrounding how he came into this world. That is something I will simply not do. I am not ashamed that I had a child without being married, or that I had a child knowing there would not be a father around to help me raise him. I will tell my son the truth. I am not sure if he will love the answers I give him. But I am sure that I will raise him to become an adult with a good head on his shoulders. If he is well-rounded, mature, and has a good perspective on his own life, he will not resent me. Because he will love me, he will think of me as a good mom(I hope), and he will know that I always do what is in his best interest.
I am sure that one day, when I’m a bit older, I will have a man in my life whom my son sees as a father. If not, he has male figures that will play an important role in his life for many years to come. And, if he ever wishes to seek out his father, I will give him all the information I have to do so.
My son is two now. For the last two years, I have put him to bed every night. I’ve changed every diaper. I’ve kissed every boo-boo. I’ve sung every lullaby to him. I’ve played with him every day. I’ve given him my love and attention every time he has wanted or needed it. No matter how selfish anyone thinks I may have been, I am a good mom. I know it. And if, at this age, my son could tell you whether or not I’m a good mom, I am confident he would say I am. To me, that’s all that matters.