For Mother’s Day, I wrote a social media post on Instagram, aimed at mothers who found themselves spending the day alone. Like me, who also spent the day alone. I very nearly deleted the caption before posting, fearing that it would, inadvertently, guilt-trip my children. 


They love their parents, and it wasn’t their choice that my ex-husband and I ended our marriage. Their boundless love has straddled households for years, and they do it well. They do it without judgement, anger or regret. Unlike adults, who can sometimes be a little bit (well, a lot) wrong sometimes. 


As my inbox filled with DMs from people sifting through a Sunday solo, I realised these words should go beyond Mother’s Day. In fact, they should go beyond mothers because fathers get it too. Many of my male clients, and friends, have found themselves being home #2, despite spending equal time with their children, and splitting their financial obligations equally. Many men have been at the end of verbal abuse, bitterness and resentment, and I don’t want to forget that their hearts are on the line too. 


This post hit some hearts in all the right ways. I hope it hits yours now too. 


{edited for inclusivity}


To all the mama’s and the papa’s out there today, who have spent the day alone, I see you.

I see your bravery, as you attempt to co-parent today, and every day. 

I see your stoicism as you said goodbye to your children, as they headed out for a day without you. 

I hear your tears as you continue to be kind for the children’s sake and put your needs to the back of the queue.

I see you as you sit with a coffee, wondering why loneliness is your only friend until they come home.

I feel the love that you have for your babies, as you wait for your day to finally begin.

I feel your forgiveness as you question the rage that sits beneath your smiles, yet this will not destroy you.

I feel your envy, as you scroll through the images on your Instagram feed, of parents being smothered in love.

But what I see most of all, is your ability to be greater than your past.

For mustering the bravery to get you and your babies to a different, better life.

You, my darling, are the greatest teacher your children could wish for, on how to let go when all you want to do, is hold so tight.

I see you.

And I am here, like you, being a parent and survivor who can. 


Until next time, be kind to yourself.

Nikki x

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