Motherhood, aside from allowing me to experience love in its purest and most unconditional form, has also showed me that devotion and frustration can go hand in hand. I fully bought into that story  that juggling motherhood, work and life was a mammoth task but it was possible; you simple had to get that balance right.

And surely you can get that balance right if you live somewhere in which upbringing and nurturing future generations is not only welcomed but also valued, not a country in which procreating is always celebrated – Spain has one of the lowest birth rates in Europe after all -and motherhood goes along well as long as it does not interfere with your productivity, your career, your feminine self, your womanhood.

The impossible motherhood/work/life juggling

If getting that work-life-motherhood balance right is no mean feat for those who co-parent, the reality for single mums is far more daunting. If you are a single mother you simple cannot juggle. You can only give up on facets of your life.  I am not referring to leading a carefree life. I am way happier being a somewhat struggling working single mother than when I was an untethered soul; giving up my freedom for my son was my best trade-off in life. But  I was invariably faced with a daunting reality which has made my personal circumstances feel like a real predicament, when it should not be the case.

Single mothers are faced with the impossible task of having to prove themselves to others all the time: prove that you can carry on with your creative pursuits, that you are as profesional, engaged and capable as your male or childless co-workers, even when you have to dash off when you get a call from the school telling you that your child has developed a sudden temperature, prove that you still hold a certain level of sex-appeal, that you can be and feel desirable when exhaustion has reached a whole new level and grooming days are long gone… It seems to me that there is this unwritten bias that, when you go through the life-changing experience of giving birth to a human being, you also give birth to innate super powers which will enable you to run on an auto-pilot and manage to do it all; because this is second nature you us, women. Add to that, being the mom and dad at home, the bread-winner whom your child  well-being depends upon, the profesional who does not want to give up on her own aspirations and dreams but has to give in to mediocrity when finally grasps the uncomfortable truth:  you can’t do it all despite your newly-acquired superpowers. And this is no country for single mothers.

In a country in which benefits for one-parent families are close to nothing or simply do not exist, where remote working and flexible working hours are still a rara avis, moms are the closest there has ever been to a Wonder woman. Everyone  can fathom that raising a child alone not only is physical – and mentally – exhausting. I has also made me question the societal values I have to put up with. It seems that single mums elcit as much admiration as corcern -or even pity-, albeit always concealed. Yes, she is so brave but I bet she  has not shaved her legs in days, probably  weeks, her hair is in a dire state….the other side is the label you get: she’s a man-eater on the loose when she’s got the chance. It seems that there is no way of escaping some sort of judgement.

Single motherhood = devotion + frustration

Rasing a child on your own, however rewarding it is also strenuous. It equals devotion and frustration, it is similar to being in a constant state of alertness, debating with your self over whether you are giving your child the right tools to become an independent, empathetic and compassionate adult. I have no doubt of the love and devotion I feel for my son but having such an intense relationship with each other also unleashed the worst in both, which in his case translates into tantrums, whims, frustration, anger…  and exasperation in myself. This is the toughest part of all. Those moments when I reach my nadir as a mother:  the overwhelming feeling of sinking, your patience reaching rock bottom, being concious of the fact that you are showing the worst version of yourself to your child, knowing that you are not fully present because you always run around like a headless chicken, and the lonely feeling of doing it all by yourself, or most of it, for that matter… Then the sweetest  heart-felt hug cures it all, but you are still confronted with your doubts. Alone.

I am thinking of all the single mums out there: our determination, courage and love is a miracle – because in a world which praises inmediate transactions, full of so much navel-gazing and narcissim, being a -single- mother is the ultimate heroic deed.