NdukuOutLoud

Unedited Notes on Single Motherhood

I say that without an ounce of judgment toward anyone else, but with complete honesty about my own life.

And if it is not obvious from the title, the relationship between my daughter’s father and me did not work out, and he is no longer in our lives. We do not co-parent. I don’t get “no-kid” weekends (maybe when she’s at her aunties or grandparents), and I do not receive financial support. It is just the two of us, every single day.

Maybe that is why I view this entire narrative the way I do. Maybe I am just overwhelmed.

But living the unedited, uncurated version of single parenthood makes you look at the cultural conversation a little differently.

Everywhere you turn online, single motherhood is being romanticized—even encouraged. And I understand why in certain contexts. When there is physical violence or deep emotional and financial abuse, leaving is not a lifestyle choice; it is a matter of safety and survival. In those cases, there is no debate. Getting yourself and your child out is the only answer.

At the risk of sounding blunt, when there is physical violence, the line is clear: if safety is broken, you run. But as our cultural definitions of emotional discomfort broaden, the lines have become blurry. Today, even the friction that could be worked through is increasingly met with a quick exit. We frame walking away as “choosing peace” and “prioritizing happiness.”

It sounds empowering. And yes, it is better to raise a child alone and sane than in a home filled with toxicity that drains your spirit.

But if we are being completely honest with ourselves, can we acknowledge that sometimes it is also a little selfish? Have we romanticized independence so much that the moment a relationship gets hard, our immediate instinct is to abandon ship?

Part of this shift stems from how we view relationships today. In our collective push to dismantle patriarchal norms, we have almost decided that men and nuclear partnerships are entirely obsolete. We have our own jobs, our own money, and a culture telling us that anything a man can do, we can do better.

Or maybe—just maybe—we have simply grown exhausted by the unglamorous work of staying. Instead of doing the hard, uncomfortable labor of digging into root causes, seeking therapy, and working on our own flaws alongside our partner’s, it feels easier to pack up, stay by ourselves, take our kids on solo vacations, and chase our individual dreams.

There is nothing inherently wrong with independence or ambition. But in prioritizing our own self-actualization, we sometimes gloss over a quiet, heavy truth: we are making ourselves solely responsible for the growth, development, and socialization of another human being.

Raising a human being was always meant to require a village. Somewhere along the line, we decided we could do it alone.

And maybe we can. Some of us do it exceptionally well. But should we be celebrating the necessity of it?

I receive a fair amount of praise and admiration from friends and family for how far my daughter and I have come. I see other single mothers online doing incredible things, and I feel genuine awe for what they accomplish. But if we’re being honest ,most of that online admiration goes to the rich single mom. The one who can afford elite schools, tropical getaways, and curated lifestyles.

We use financial abundance as a proxy for success. But parenting is not just about financial providence and affording nice things. Wealth can buy convenience, but it cannot replace the structural, relational, and emotional presence of a complete foundation.

Perhaps if we stopped celebrating the act of leaving so prematurely, we might encourage someone to pause. To sit down and take a hard, sober look at a relationship before making a decision that permanently alters the course of a child’s life.

Because almost always, the issues that break a family don’t start after a child is born. They are the quiet red flags, the unaddressed habits, and the unhealed parts of both partners that were dismissed early on.

Leaving shouldn’t be framed as the ultimate victory metric of modern womanhood. It is sometimes a necessary tragedy, but it remains a heavy burden—one that we, and our children, carry for the rest of our lives.