Why Feeling Like a Single Parent In Lockdown Isn’t The Same As Being One

As the coronavirus crisis strips back family support systems it’s become clear who’s been holding the fort: women. Women have absorbed the bulk of the economic and emotional impacts, the additional childcare and the home management responsibilities. In some circles these additional burdens have led to coupled mothers claiming they ‘feel like a single mum’. Whilst many have indeed experienced some of the physical trappings of single motherhood the institution, identity and emotional reality single parenting brings cannot be experienced in fleeting moments. The financial statistics quickly highlight these differences; earnings of single parent families have fallen by more than double that of coupled households and over half of single parents are now in receipt of Universal Credit as opposed to 10% of coupled families. Aside from this economic divide, single parenting involves core differences which are being entirely overlooked in this pandemic.

Single mother Lucy*, described the hardest part of lockdown as, “the sheer relentless [sic] of it with no sign of any relief – because it’s tough for everyone we are seeing lots of people express how difficult it is and when their difficult is our normal we are desperate for – it’s hard not to feel hard done by.” Kerri, single mum to one six year old, reports being inundated with comments from friends of how they were the same as a single mum, explaining, “[they say] it’s ‘all on them’ despite their hour in the morning they get for undisturbed yoga, someone else to tidy up lunch and get an evening stroll on their own.” Meanwhile Emily* – a solo mother to four children – was told by one of the staff (let’s call her Sophie) at her children’s nursery, “I know exactly what it’s like, I’ve had no break or me time since lockdown began”. Single parenting is so often overlooked when non single parents describe their own realities – we are the devious, malfunctioning group, not to be considered when talking of the ‘norm’. Is it this which results in such a different interpretation of the concept of ‘no break’? As a solo mum to two young children in lockdown I didn’t pee alone for months, rarely showered and never ‘popped’ out alone. Is that what Sophie meant too?   

Many single parents found the advice for coping with lockdown alien to their own circumstances. Herbie, who is a mother to a young baby and is partially sighted, like many single parents, found lockdown challenging. “With a disability, it’s all well and good people making suggestions of how to entertain my little one, such as painting, but by the time I get everything out, and even attempt to do it for the five minutes of fun, it then takes me another half hour I’m not with her tidying up. It adds extra pressure into the day! So it’s not worth it.”

During lockdown the weekly shop became a gigantic chore with online slots unavailable and solo shopping trips the preserve of couples. Single mother Michelle describes how shopping, “became a thing of dread.” She had to drive to the supermarket with her two young children, locate a trolley which didn’t accommodate them both safely, walk round seemingly endless one way systems and join a queue; all before entering the shop. The first time I ventured to the shops with both kids in tow the queues snaking out of the door were so overwhelming I returned home empty handed fighting back the tears. Meanwhile coupled friends proudly reported they hadn’t been into a shop since lockdown began.

The difference in single parenting is often more extreme in the emotional parts than these practical realities though. Is there something wrong with my child? Is that a common old garden cold or the rumblings of Covid-19? What if I get too ill to feed them? What will happen if I lose my job? These were just a few of the thoughts that raced through my mind during lockdown and I had no one to share them with. As Saskia*, single mother to two children explains, “The thing about being a single mum is no matter how much support you get…. At the end of the day it is all on you, every single life changing decision…. You bear the burden and responsibility of that alone… and that is hard. Having people in your corner… is not the same as having a person, your person, as being someone’s person (whether that person is flawed or not). Having kids is about a process of letting go, of preparing them for their best life with you in the background supporting them but allowing them to create their own foreground, their own story, not having someone to share that with, even implicitly, it lonely.”

As a single mum, on the good nights I am overcome with pride as I cradle my youngest knowing I have done this entirely alone. On the bad nights I feel an intensity of loneliness that is indescribable. A feeling that whatever I do it will never be seen, marked or appreciated by anyone. The idea that I could – in some parallel universe – have been supported in these moments is such an alien concept it rarely enters my head. The coupled mother will not feel the same. She should not feel the same. She may feel an aching loneliness if her partner chooses to turn over and sleep, or resentment and anger that s/he’s not pulling her/his weight, maybe even responsibility to ensure s/he get a good night’s sleep for the day ahead, or sadness that s/he’s away – again. Married mother and author Katharine Chan, describes how extreme these feelings became for her, “After our daughter was born, I started hating my husband like he was this evil asshole who only cared about himself and his needs.” There’s no one universal emotion of either group, but our core experiences will differ because our parenting is built on unique foundations; partnership versus independence. Neither better; both difficult, beautiful and different.

The complex jigsaw of the single mother’s support system often elevates the importance of friends and it can be a fine balance navigating friendships based on different needs and wants. Caitlyn*, solo mum to one, states, “Part of the reason for having a child was to be connected to the world rather than feeling constantly excluded from all my friends with kids. Lockdown has made me feel so disconnected. Weeks without seeing an adult… were very, very hard mentally and emotionally.” Like Caitlyn, my shrinking world was challenging. I often interpreted the silence from friends as a lack of care despite my logical brain knowing everyone was struggling. Yet when they asked, “When’s a good time to call?” my reply of, “2021,” wasn’t entirely joking. Others weren’t free to chat until they’d tag teamed their partner to watch the children. I’d do the same in their situation of course, but did they realise that if single parents lived by those rules we’d never speak? In the height of lockdown I talked a little louder in the hope the neighbours might hear; somehow life felt less futile if I imagined them nodding empathetically behind the wall dividing us. I never heard a reply.

The mental health impact of Covid-19 is likely to be felt for a long time to come. Single parents already face almost double the level of mental health challenges as coupled parents. During lockdown I heard of single mums breaking down on the phone to their headteachers, begging for a school place only to be given none. I’ve struggled with my mental health since my marriage collapsed and I was repeatedly told I was a useless mother. During lockdown I tended to agree. I thought the worst days were those filled with non-stop shouting only to find an abyss beyond that point as silent as it was deep. Even sleep didn’t register on my weary bones, waking up aching all over despite not having walked further than the front door in days. Over half of adults reported an increase in mental health issues during lockdown, and single parents are likely to be hit disproportionally hard; policy makers aren’t discussing this.

Many single parents found the intensity of their relationship with their child(ren) magnified. Di, single mother to her eight year old son, described her worries, “I am actually more concerned that we have become such a tight knit, impenetrable unit of two, against the world. And that is not normal is it?!… Apron strings? More like he is welded to me. I think if there are two parents that just doesn’t happen the same.” It’s a similar story in my own home. With no other adult to diffuse the moments between us, it’s like a love-triangle gone wrong – or is it right? My eldest and I, too similar to coexist quietly, alternated between repelling and attracting each other while the baby refused to socially distance from me at any point. While lockdown meant make or break for many relationships, when it’s the one with your own child it’s unimaginably painful. 

The generations old stigma and discrimination single parenting envokes can hit deep. Married women are rarely told, “You chose this life,” with contempt, and they certainly aren’t blamed for all of society’s woes. Even our own Prime Minister has managed to walk the tightrope of hypocrisy that has seen him describe the children of single mothers as “ill-raised, ignorant, aggressive and illegitimate,” whilst being a single father to an undisclosed number of children himself. Many single parents, myself included, seek to challenge this stigma and discrimination daily but are then told we take things too personally; is there another way to experience life? It’s what motivated many to push for change through lockdown and it’s why I’ve set up a national campaign for single parent rights, despite these extra strains on our time. Did those who ‘felt’ single take up arms in the fight for our rights?

Single mumming isn’t slumming it though and while it may be tough (is there a parenting version that isn’t?) it’s not a synonym for hardship. Our lives are full and beautiful places. The belief that single parenting is the worst doesn’t just affect single mums, but those who espouse it too. Research shows that 7.6 million parents stay in a relationship for longer than they want, reflecting the misplaced belief that going solo is bad. Perhaps if coupled women could see they weren’t like me, then those who’d had enough would recognise the benefits in the alternative. I’ve never picked up a grown man’s socks. I don’t feel resentment nor do I argue with another adult – unless they claim Cummings shouldn’t resign. I’m under less pressure to tend a well-kept home, and in lockdown I milked this for all it was worth. When the pressures of homeschooling became too much I gave up – did it feel a little easier to admit defeat when society had already placed me on the pile of ‘barely coping single mum’? Although I miss appreciation, I imagine being underappreciation is no better.

Single parenting isn’t merely a story of absence. Lockdown rules pertaining, I’m free to do whatever I want, whenever I want – so long as I can take the kids in tow – and that’s not as limiting as you might imagine. I’ve travelled solo with my eldest to four continents and I’m not stopping now I have two. I get to parent my children how I want, without rhyme or reason, and certainly without compromise – apart from those negotiated by non-stop screams only small people can sustain.

Even in these challenging times, single mums everywhere found positives. Elle, a single mother to William, enjoyed the time with her son during lockdown and eight year old William felt the same; “I like it when it’s just me and you [mum] because it’s just chill mum.” Elle felt this wouldn’t have been possible if she lived with a partner. Single mother to one, and pregnant with her second, Jenny, describes a similar feeling, “I normally work full time, so I’ll never regret this time I’m getting to spend one on one with my daughter, especially before the two of us become three. What a gift. I have fallen in love with her all over again.” In our home, I too enjoyed the slower pace of life and relished that I had it all to myself. Like a squirrel collecting nuts I gathered memories to sustain me once my boys fly the nest.

The loving and learning occurring in our home during lockdown hasn’t just been between mother and child, but between my sons themselves; locked away in this love-triangle, their own love has multiplied. Yes they have their spats, but they’re minimal compared with what I hear on the parenting circuit. I may be unable to role model a positive relationship to them, but it’s also impossible to inadvertently model a bad one. In the early mornings as we lie there, three bodies entwined, it’s impossible not to think that one-parent families were how life was intended – pure and free – with no expectations or influence from another being entangled in the invisible umbilical cords.

Despite the mainstream media’s insistence otherwise, not only is single parenting often bliss, it’s also good for the kids. A study found family set up had little impact on children’s development, it’s poverty that does that. While a study by the University of Sheffield found, “Children who are living or have lived in single parent families score as highly – or higher – against each measure of wellbeing as those who have always lived in two parent families.”

Everyone comes to single parenting differently, but for many it involves a life you once knew – and occasionally loved – being blown apart. It can be hard to come back from that, and it’s not something to accidently lay claim to. The paths others took to this place we call home, contain stories so brave they deserve the St George’s cross; deaths of loved ones, refuges at midnight, fertility treatments lasting years and containing untold loss. Other stories are more mundane; oops, I did it again. But the one thing that holds true is each story belongs to the woman who lived it. As much as I’d like to be stripped of some of my experiences and start afresh, I cannot.

Single parenting is the blood running through my veins, it’s not a mask I put on and remove at night, or the weekend, or whenever my partner returns home. I cannot operate for one second unaware of the fact I am my childrens’ only (active) parent. I am seeped in that reality from dawn till dusk and in-between. Single parenting is my all and everything, something greater, harder and more amazing than each of its constituent parts. Claiming to feel like us as you dip your toe in a puddle while we live in the vast ocean, misses so much of what single parenting is that I wonder if you’ve ever really seen me.

And that’s the crux of it all. In claiming they ‘feel’ like me, coupled women, wipe out large swathes of the intense and contradictory emotions I experience. Like all humans I seek validation. Hidden away from the world in lockdown, this need grows faster than the virus. As therapist and coach, Karyn Hall identifies, validation can bring multiple benefits including, “[it] communicates acceptance…helps the person know they are on the right track…regulates emotions…helps build identity,” and more besides; surely we all need some of that?

As a solo parent without a partner, validation takes on extra meaning and its absence cuts deep, denying me connections which could comfort. Insincere comparisons undermine my divorce-right and with it my chance to be understood. The coupled mother has her own struggles and joys unique to her. A misplaced sense of shared experience buries my truth, and in doing so, hides theirs. You cannot experience life in the ocean by looking in. If you want to break free, dive in, but until then, please don’t try to appropriate me.

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