I was talking to a woman about her daughter today, who is also a single mother, who also does not receive child support, who also seems to be managing and in many ways seemed to be exactly like me or at least in a very similar situation.

Without going into further personal details about either of us, I remember telling the woman how good it was to hear that her daughter is doing well. In fact, I think my exact words were “good for her, I’m glad she’s making it.”

I wonder though, why that seemed so impressive to me. Why any of the similarities that I shared in this post were enough for me to think that this single mother was “making it”.

Should we be proud of ourselves for these things? Should I really expect to one day receive a fantastic award for being a single mother? In all actuality, it is my responsibility. There’s nothing impressive or special about doing what you’re supposed to do. For making it through really hard stuff and not jumping off a bridge. This is life. You either do it and do it well, or…you don’t.

A comment on a photo on Facebook reads:

Beautiful inside and out! a person with deep thoughts and a mother who truly knows how to love her child.If youve ever read some of what this person can write…well it shows how balanced and deep thinking she is.

I could’ve cried. I care less about writing well than I do of physical beauty. A compliment as a mother can literally bring me to tears. I imagine that the reward comes in the form of what others see and by comments like “…a mother who truly knows how to love her child.”

And if this is the case, this isn’t a reward solely for single mothers or single fathers. There is rarely any special praise for parents that love their children and are married. No one tells married couples with kids that they’re doing well just because they don’t get child support or food stamps.

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A friend of mine told me recently that I purposely want to be a single mother forever just so I can prove to the world what a hardcore bitch I am. So I can tell everyone that I made it and somehow prove a point. (A point that I do realize, no one else really cares about, because in the end this is what I’m supposed to be doing.) I had to agree with him.

Yeah, you’re probably right.

I do feel as though I’m on some sort of self inflicted mission. The part that isn’t true though, is the assumption that I somehow enjoy this and would prefer this. And just for the record, this is definitely not the reason I am single.

Because to be honest, a day doesn’t go by without me wishing I had done things differently. I look at my daughter and wonder fearfully if my mistakes will affect her negatively. If somehow she will pay for the decisions I have made, and well that’s a bit like smoking while pregnant. It’s not fair to the child. They don’t get to choose and have no control over those sorts of decisions. They merely live with the consequences.

“Making it” is her being okay despite her mother’s decisions. Her happiness and stability, are mine. Her making it, is me making it.

It is never just the fact that I seem to be able to do this myself.  Because really, sometimes I don’t think I can.

I just do. And there’s nothing special about that.