If you read nothing else today, look at Michael Brendan Dougherty’s essay reflecting on what it was like for him to grow up as the child of a single mother. Excerpt:
I don’t think my behavior that one night was the sole cause, but some time after that my mother really stopped having a life outside the home. She stayed in and conducted no romances of significance. Judging from her diaries and letters, the few men she engaged in even a passing interest were not all that good to her. As a single mother, helping to take care of her parents and her son, she wasn’t in a position to make men be courtly with her. So she stopped trying. That was the sexual revolution for her. Men willing to sleep with her, but not willing to build a family.
MBD goes on to talk about how the effects of single motherhood played out across his life, and his mother’s. You really, really need to read this. It took courage to write something so honest and raw. I would like to hear from readers of this blog about your own experiences growing up as the child of a single parent. But first, read MBD’s essay.



MBD’s essay is indeed very good. And affecting. I especially related to this part:
There was an emptiness in her life as I became more independent. Having lost the social role of mother, she had few other roles to play and took worse and worse care of herself. Discarded by men, unneeded by her son.
I am not the product of a single-parent family, but my parents did get divorced when I was 13, and while my father has happily remarried, my mother has not. She sounds a lot like MBD’s mother.
That said, my home *was* one filled with “resentment, yelling, and domestic abuse.” The pre-divorce, intact-nuclear-family period was plenty tumultuous. My parents made a mistake in thinking divorce would solve it, though. They were inextricably tied together by the fact that they had children, and when they couldn’t fight with each other directly, they fought through us kids, just as angrily.
I don’t mean this in a woe-is-me way: I’m fine. I turned out OK. But my mother lives 1,800 miles away, and I’m not so sure that she is. Anybody would have rated her marriage as a bad one, but now she has nothing.