Single Mom

So I’m a single mom. I find myself saying that a lot lately, like I’m trying it out to see how it sounds, to gauge the reactions on people’s faces. Frankly, avoiding that label is one big reason I stayed in an abusive marriage as long as I did. The label “single mom” conjured up images of sadness, brokenness, abandonment. I didn’t want to be a single mom, until I realized that it was the only road out of a perilous situation. So, here I am, six months into being a single mom. The best part is not feeling impending doom breathing down the back of my neck, fearing whether or not I would be able to keep my babies and me safe. The sense of freedom we all feel is palpable. My girls are growing and learning at a dizzying speed. I am blown away by them on a daily basis. They’re safe, and they know it. We just had our first Thanksgiving as our new family. We spent a week at my mother and stepfather’s idyllic, country home, complete with a barn, a pond, and autumnal trees. My amazing brother, A.K.A. Uncle Danny, was kind enough to take pictures of the girls and me for us to use on our Christmas card. I’m so happy with how they turned out that I can’t wait to share them.

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