I have been meaning to write this post for some time, but –oh, surprise– did not find the time. Now feels like a good time to describe my recent experience as a single parent (ok, my husband went away for only four days). But, to be perfectly honest, it felt like a whole lot more time.
First of all, a little context. In the past four years, since I became a mother, I had never spent a night alone with my son, ever. Last year, I was the one that had to travel unexpectedly across the ocean, and my husband had to “solo parent” for twelve days, no less. When I came back, I found him pretty relaxed; he handled the situation like a pro.
This time, it was my turn. As soon as he left, I thought, “I got this”. However, I quickly realized how different it feels when all the responsibility falls on your shoulders. If your little one falls down and gets hurt in the park? You are on your own. Rough night? Same. Without realizing it, I entered a state of perpetual anxiety, imagining all the possible scenarios I did not want to find myself alone in.
Ok, maybe not as bad as it sounds. The thing is I felt it clearly for the first time, the best sign you are part of a good team when it comes to parenting, is precisely feeling like you carry all the weight when for some circumstantial reason you are alone with your kid, instead of the regular half the weight, so do speak.
Long story short, the four days went by quick. Nevertheless, the second my better half walked through the door I felt a huge wave of exhaustion crush me. It was probably more emotional than physical. It was like ok, my shift is over and I can go lie down… until tomorrow. The only question left in my mind… how do people with more than one kid do it? My hat goes off to you (whatever the secret is).
The great thing about this experience is that even though I was very tired, I am now much more confident about my ability to keep my child alive, well fed and happy.
