5 years ago, I had just bought my home and it was just me. I don't remember what I did with most of my time, but I know I was somehow always busy.
I feel very strongly that you do *not* have to be a parent or have children to learn everything you need to know or experience everything there is in life. But for me, it has changed and shaped me into the person I am. A person very different from who I was 5 years ago.
Every day, I parent through layers.
Top layer is single mom Lexi. It is the plainly visible to most, outermost, and biggest impact portion of my parenting. It means there is no "break" without arranging one days or weeks in advance, then spending that entire "break" wondering how B is doing, sometimes getting calls from her reporting how she's doing, and basically not resting at all. It means I never get to drop the mental load of scheduling appointments, cleaning our house, figuring out what skills I should be teaching her next, staying on top of medical issues, always having an answer for questions like "when are you getting married, why don't I have a dad, when will I have a daddy?" It means often being called a superhero or rock star while feeling like I just want help.
Then there's transracial parent Lexi. WAP, as I'm known as in online groups. White adoptive parent. Un-learning racist beliefs I have held since I was a child, and having to do it in a hurry because I didn't do this work before I became the parent of a Black child. Teaching family and friends about micro-aggressions, impact versus intent, and how to see race. Taking B to hair salons that will surround her with other Black people, for racial mirrors and also because that's where her hair is best taken care of. Recognizing how to care for her skin and her hair and empowering her to learn this as well. Learning what ballet classes are filled with only white children and then B, and seeking out ones that are different. Constantly looking for homes in a different neighborhood and school district where she can have peers who look like her. Being disappointed daily by family members and friends who ‘don’t see color’ or call me a ‘promoter of racial division’ for speaking passionately about racial equity. Feeling regret that having a Black daughter is what spurred on a lot of changes in me, while knowing I should have changed even without her.
Finally- the big one- the undermost layer. Adoptive mom Lexi. The second mom Brooklyn ever knew. AMom, as she may someday call me. Struggling to walk the line between sadness and joy, on a daily basis, because B is my daughter only because I had privileges, support and resources her first mom never did. Texting and visiting with her first family as much as we can because that's what B deserves. Hearing "adoption is such a blessing!" and cringing so hard because it's a loss, a death of a life B would otherwise be living, in another part of our town with different people, who look like her and share her bloodline. It means I get the huge GIFT of my daughter while holding onto the large job of teaching her about her biological family. It means hoping all along that I'm doing the right things, building her connections enough, sharing our lives together in a way that honors her family, while also building our life together.
I never thought about these layers when I pictured my life 5 years down the line, years ago. I now have no choice- I can’t decide to strip off any of the layers for a day. So when people acknowledge that single parenting must be hard and they could never do it, I usually just nod- and think of the layers.
