Pushing a Stroller Up a Hill


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Being a single mother is like pushing a double stroller up a steep hill that is snowy. While the wind is cold and blowing and the babies are crying.


You wish there was more you could do to help your children. If there was someone else to help, such as the father or another, they could take one child and I will take the other. Giving me room to breath and time to think, of what I need to do next.


When there are two children and one person to handle both alone... it comes as a tug of war between the children and self.



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They are cold. I need to sacrifice my scarf, my hat, my jacket, to cover them. Which leaves me frozen yet still pushing.


If both were falling into the icy lake, I wouldn't choose which one to save, I would save both and sacrifice myself. So they can see that it is not safe to go back into the icy lake.


When I am angry, they can feel my anger.

When I am angry, I am harming myself.

When I yell, it is harming them.

But if I don't yell, it stays inside and makes me go crazy.


Being a mother is tuff. It's hard work. It's beautiful yet deadly. Like a carnivores wild flower.


Every day is a tug and war between them and myself. At least it feels that way because the load of mother hood and father hood is on one persons back.


I love being a mother, don't get me wrong. What I don't love is being a mother all alone. This joy, these children, are meant to be shared between two people. I am still a person beneath the title of Mother.


Being a single mother is like pushing a double stroller up an icy hill. While at the peak of the hill you want to let go and just let it all collapse...but you face the cold wind in your face, dig your heel into the icy ground, and keep pushing.

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