The only kind of motherhood I know

A friend of mine who is an identical twin has the most perfect answer to the often asked question "What is it like to be a twin?" "I don't know," she responds. "What is it like not to be?" I find I can so completely relate to that when it comes to being a single mother. What is it like? Is it harder to be one? I don't know. This is the only kind of motherhood I know.

I wouldn't say I miss having a husband or partner in parenting. Finding a husband or partner is something I am open to, but don't feel like I must have in order for me to be happy or for me to be a good mother. I think, if the person and the relationship were right, it would enhance my life, what Adam and I have. But I am, for the most part, content and at peace.


That said, this week I found myself profoundly missing something I don't have. A friend has been telling me of a heartbreaking crisis a friend of hers is going through and talks about how their group of friends has rallied around the friend in crisis. This group of friends have been close for years, they all have children around the same age, have been married about the same length of time. Their children have grown up together and they've shared the same stages of their lives and parenthood. And I suddenly missed that so much.


Don't get me wrong, I have wonderful, supportive friends. But our situations and circumstances are different. Those with children, for the most part, have children much older than Adam. My closest friends are childless. I don't live in a suburb where everyone in the area is of a similar age and family makeup. It isn't something I ever really thought about before, so I'm surprised at just how much I find myself missing this something I've never had.