Single Parenting Part 2: Don’t Tell Me It’s Hopeless

by Leslie Coy

Statistics compiled by the U.S. Department of Justice (Parker, 2019) report that children from fatherless homes account for  63% of youth suicides, 90% of all homeless and runaway youths, 85% of exhibited pediatric behavioral disorders, 71% of high school dropouts, 70% of juvenile criminal offenders, 75% of adolescent substance abuse cases, and 75% of rapists who are motivated by displaced anger.

Whew. That’s some scary stuff, and it has a way of gripping our hearts and our imaginations. It’s this sort of thing that runs through my mind when I’m desperately wondering why my youngest kiddo just won’t sleep. Or when I’m YouTubing how to shave because my almost-14 year old son desperately needs to shave that weird mustache-thing he’s growing. I definitely keep myself up at night when I’m already tearing my hair out over whatever it is that is causing my 11-year old so many problems academically (ADHD? Anxiety? Depression? Some learning disorder they haven’t invented yet? Alien possession?) And they’re front and center when a preteen daughter dabbles in self-harm.  

Single parenting is one of the loneliest places you can land. 

I’ve caught myself carrying these statistics around like some sort of identification badge. My parent ID now reads “Not Enough”. I think information such as this is meant to be a clarion call, inviting us to step into an impactful presence, to realize our significance, and take up our roles as mothers and fathers. And I truly ache for the losses and grief my children are left to walk with. I think we all do, in whatever space or manner that void takes shape. 

But if I’m honest with myself and with you, these statistics anger me for what they must represent on the other side of the story. Because for every absent parent there is a present parent doing their absolute damndest to make it all work. These statistics speak nothing of human resilience, of grit, of presence, or of God’s redemptive grace. They demand something of me I am incapable of giving or being. I am not capable of being Mom and Dad.  While unintentioned, it is a great unkindness to remind a single parent of just how inadequate they are. Believe me, we already know. These statements and statistics serve as a psychological paralytic, creating a cycle of hopelessness, depression, and inertia.

However, there are those of us who will dig in harder, trying to be both parents. We respond by trying to be “everything” to and for our children. This is the parent who attempts to “fill the empty shoes” so that the child doesn’t experience lack. I would posit that this behavior is not just exhausting and unsustainable for the parent, but confusing for the child. Particularly for children who have experienced a parent’s death, having the surviving parent attempt to take up where the deceased parent left is actually dishonoring to the deceased parent’s memory and the child’s grief. Their absence should not be considered easy to fill or replace. There are spaces that my husband occupied with my children that I intentionally stay away from in order to preserve their memories of him in that specific context as well as to allow his life to continue to impact and influence us. 

So, what then is the real cost? In an attempt at multiplication, we end up dividing. Your absent partner had/has a role, a voice, and a calling. And so do you. Don’t be tempted to drop your calling to take up theirs. Your children will benefit more from you living more fully and authentically as yourself than if you dilute your presence by attempting to carry out a role that isn’t yours. They lose doubly if you do. 

It’s true that for a child growing up in a single parent household, the other parent’s void is obvious and visible. But I believe that we all experience a void. We don’t live in Eden any longer. None of us experience perfection or harmony. There will always be something missing because we aren’t well and truly home yet.

At this point, you may wonder where I am going with all of this, because I haven’t offered much that is helpful yet, have I? So, here is what I want to say to you: You aren’t enough.  And that is 100% okay. This is what the statistics leave out: it is okay that you aren’t enough. And the good news is that you don’t have to be.

In the next post, we’ll look at practical ways to make your life easier, addressing such topics as community and asking for help. 

As always, if you are moved by something in what I’ve written here and want to discuss your own single parenting story, I encourage you to reach out.  

Parker, W. (2019).  Statistics on fatherless children in America.  

Live About. Statistics on Fatherless Children in America (liveabout.com)