“Becoming A Single Mum Was Not The Plan, But It Became The Making Of Me”

The Handbook’s Astrid Carter explains how somewhere in the trenches and loneliness of becoming a single mum, she found great friendships, that elusive “village” and – eventually – herself again.

No parent enters the most transformative chapter of their life expecting to do it alone. I certainly didn’t. When I split from my son’s father, he was only two, and the reality hit me like a lorry. It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen the signs – believe me, they were there – but as a mother, you’re wired to want the “best” for your child.

Society isn’t shy about what that “best” ought to look like. It’s a mum, a dad, a happy home, maybe a Cavapoo bounding around. That image is, of course, so deeply problematic, unrelatable and untruthful to the messiness of real life, and it certainly wasn’t the road I was faced with three years ago. But in that time, I’ve learnt a lot. About parenting, life, and most of all about myself. I’ve learned that happiness, stability, love, and all the other magic ingredients it takes to raise a tiny human come in so many guises. 

My son is now five, a beautiful whirlwind of curiosity and compassion (most of the time!), with perpetually scraped knees and a social life that puts mine to shame. He’s my biggest achievement and my favourite person, and if I could give three-years-ago-me a hug and say “you’re actually going to be ok, in fact, you’re going to be great,” I would. It took time, grit, tears and a lot of reflection, but we got there, and now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Here are some of the things I wished I’d known then, but have learned along the way…

A lot of the shame is in your head

Mums are preprogrammed to feel guilt before their little ones are even earthside. The noise around what we should and shouldn’t do is loud, from screentime to sleep training. That noise became deafening when I became a single mum. Maybe it’s not having someone to offload your worries onto at the end of the day, or the general instability of it all. Sometimes, it’s literally just the look of horror on another mum’s face when you mention you aren’t with the father. Unfortunately, some people will always struggle with the concept, but that is a reflection of them, not you. In time, you’ll learn to stop caring.

Take whatever you need from that village 

The unexpected things are often the hardest part

The financial strain of single parenting is a shock; the system simply isn’t set up for us. You learn to budget and live life differently quickly, but the lump in the throat moments aren’t always about money. It’s the moments of joy you don’t get to share, the intangible things. Like the knowing nod when your little one says something cheeky but equally hilarious, and you know you shouldn’t laugh; the “look at this incredible human we created!” wink that has nowhere to land; or the bedtime takeover when you’ve little left in the tank, but they’re still asking you some abstract, existential question about life. It’s those little things that often feel monumental and the quiet, joyful corners of parenting you’ve missed out on. 

It’s those little things that often feel monumental and the quietly joyful corners of parenting you’ve missed out on. 

Some people won’t get it, and that’s fine

There have been times when people say stupid stuff, simply because they don’t really know what else to say. Like how all mums are single mums because they do the lion’s share. Yes, that’s more often than not the case, but it’s also wildly disproportionate to the reality of doing it alone. But you learn to brush it off, and in time you become far less sensitive to people’s ignorance.

You’re not the first single mum, and you won’t be the last

I found some incredible friendships with other women in the same boat, and those bonds are fundamental to knowing you’re not alone and/or a complete freak(!). There’s also a quiet comfort in knowing I’m not going to be the last mum to go through this, and god forbid this might happen to a friend, I’ll be there to help them navigate it all along the way. 

Someone might actually find you attractive again

I’m not going to lie, through the majority of becoming a selfless, 24/7 devoted parent, there were glimmers of self-indulgent, “how will I ever meet someone with a young child?” But I did, and now I’m in the happiest and healthiest relationship of my life. When you have a child, you approach relationships entirely differently, because it’s no longer just about you. You know what you want from a relationship and a partner, but you also have learned what partner you want to be to someone else. My partner has older children, and it’s so comforting to see that despite not coming from a cookie-cutter family, they’ve grown into brilliant, well-rounded individuals. It’s an education you don’t ask for, but one that, actually, is such a privilege.

You’ll see the worst in yourself, but also the best

There is a silver lining to co-parenting

Simply put: I get nights off. When my son is with his dad, I spend those nights wishing he were here, which is insane, because he is loved, safe and happy. But it’s also a win to book a dinner out with the girls without worrying about a hangover, plan a date night with no need for a babysitter, or to binge-watch a series knowing you’re not going to hear the pitter-patter of little feet come through. I found the nights away agonising at first, but I’ve learned to lean into these small silver linings. 

It wasn’t what you planned, but it’s what you needed

Once you get your head around it all and find your new groove (which, as a parent to small children, is always changing anyway), things become so much easier. You’ll realise that even though this wasn’t the plan, you needed to become the best version of yourself. And there is nothing better than your little one growing up and seeing that.