27 Oct Sole Searching

Single parents deserve our respect, and their own, writes Selina Earl.

Do you ever feel like you are cruising down a bumpy lane with a driver who has fallen asleep at the wheel and veered off in the wrong direction?

I feel as if I have barely come to terms with being a mother and already, here I am: mum of three children under five, and being something else I hadn’t anticipated… a single mother! And at times I feel ashamed, as if I have done something incredibly trashy. I know I am not the only one who has been unwittingly affected by the images that come to mind when one hears the words: ‘single mother of three on benefits’.

And yet this is wrong. So very, very wrong. If there is anyone I am akin to it is a mountaineer. I understand isolation, endurance: finding that extra ounce of energy when already so depleted, and the struggle to remain calm under immense pressure. I even understand the wonder of discovering new territories (inner, in my case).

And yet it is not easily that I admit the truth of my situation. And I wonder is this because it’s so unfamiliar, or is it the image? And if it’s the latter, then the only way this will change is if I speak the truth.

When I first became pregnant, my partner and I had been together for more than a decade. We were living well, by the sea, and I thought we were happy – until the evening he told me that he was resigning from his job and that we should move to his homeland. Although disappointed and a little alarmed, I compromised, and we moved to the city; then overseas, when I became pregnant again. His mother kindly reassured me it was a wonderful place and I would have plenty of support.

Reality, though, turned out to be different. There was almost always something else more important than me, I was very isolated (we lived in a rural area), the weather was almost always terrible, and I was expected to get on with everything by myself, quietly. (It was a glimpse into a world before women’s liberation.)

To make matters worse, poor financial decisions left us broke, so my partner took work abroad. The children were watching hour after hour of television every day (there is only so much craft one can do); and no matter how I tried, I just couldn’t escape the feeling that I had been shut in a box.

Then, one day, my mother-in-law looked me square in the eye and said, “Tell me, when are you going to get off your backside and get a job?” It was too much. My facade crumbled and although I began a slow and calm response, it wasn’t long before I was screaming at her. My stomach clenched, and the cramps that followed her departure continued into the next day, prompting me to buy a pregnancy kit, just in case.

I didn’t really think it possible, so stared in disbelief as two identical blue lines formed before my eyes, feeling shocked and very frightened.

When I told my parents, they were appalled at my stupidity. I felt so ashamed at what I had allowed to happen to me and my children. And so sad. In the desperate weeks that followed, I went for counselling, arranged a job in Australia, borrowed frequent-flyer points and shipped back to Australia the few possessions I could.

I had come to my senses. Life had more to offer than this, and we were off. Fortunately, no-one challenged me.

And so began my official life as a single mother on benefits. For much of the next year, the children and I lived in two small rooms in the house belonging to my pensioner parents. I worked all the hours I possibly could. If I woke at 4am, I got up and logged on. Then during the day, to give my parents a break, the girls and I would visit the zoo, a park or the pool. I was a woman on a mission.

I saved as much as I possibly could. And after about six months, Grace was born. Five weeks after her arrival, I returned to work, with her by my side. And a few weeks later, we finally moved out. That was incredibly difficult. Setting up a house while recovering from childbirth, exhausted and with three small children in tow, was not a pleasant experience, but we got there.

Now it’s about 18 months since we made the big move and things have calmed down. I look back and am amazed, not only at my strength and resilience, but also at the dramatic improvement in the quality of our lives. The children are all bright, lively, interested in the world beyond television and laugh readily. Of course, the eldest did miss her father terribly at times. And he did return to Australia after 12 months, but took work in another city. Recently – to my children’s great joy – he has begun visiting most weekends.

Although my story may sound drastic, I have found that when other single mothers tell me their stories, there are many similarities. And the qualities I see repeated in the stories are not substance abuse, welfare grabs and different men; they are strength and kindness.

Sometimes people say, ‘I don’t know how you do it’. There is no doubt it is hard work and relentless. Before having my children I was pretty self-indulgent and happy to sit for hours on the couch. Now I rarely sit for long. I find it takes great concentration and organisation to make things work well and get everything done. It doesn’t take much to throw a whole day out, and being organised is the only way to get a little time for myself.

This is one of the many aspects to life as a single parent I hadn’t really considered beforehand, beyond the custody disputes and financial difficulties. There are also many conundrums. Here are a few.

Compensating for a largely absent father means I have to lift my own game. For example, I needed a way to deal with discipline problems that didn’t increase stress. So, for me, learning practices such as responding to naughtiness calmly have worked well. There is also the constant battle to spend more time with the children, even though they are always around. After undertaking a cost-benefit analysis, I recently hired a student to help out a couple of afternoons a week. This has been a great decision. She is wonderful and it has taken pressure off the children as much as me.

And then there is this: I cannot afford to get sick. So I take care of myself, and I don’t.

Which brings me to the flip side. Experience and repetition do make things easier and more natural. It’s incredibly rewarding to discover what one is capable of when forced to dig deep. The discipline I have gained has flowed through into other areas. And there isn’t much I take for granted.

Being a single parent is incredibly hard work and there are low moments. But the simple truth is that my children depend on me.

I cannot make excuses and leave the room. I have to deal with whatever challenges arise, and most of the time I do so with dignity, calmness and control. I am a single mother of three on benefits.

Illustrations by Paula Mills