I Hate Being a Single Mom

I love being a mom. I hate being single. But more importantly and more substantially, I HATE being a single mom. I didn't sign up to do this alone. I didn't choose to walk away from Sydney's father. It wasn't a gradual process of accepting the fact that I'd be raising her. It was a tiny second in time where I went from being a married mother to a single mother. It blows. I have help from my parents. I love that. I'll never complain about not having help. I hate going to bed alone and listening to Sydney coo and aww over the monitor and not have someone to look to in a smile knowing he loves her as much as I do. I hate not being held as I fall asleep. I hate not having Syd's dad get excited over her new accomplishments like I do. To know that someone feels the warmth in their chest when she says a new word or conquers a new task. I hate taking her places and out and not having her have her dad there, too. In my mind, it would be easier if it had been my choice. But I was forced into it. I'm probably wrong. I'm sure I'm wrong. Forgive my situational self loathing day.