Sex and the Single Mom: How I Survive Holidays Without My Son

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survive the holidaysIn our family, we do every other weekend at Dad’s, and then we trade holidays. One year Thanksgiving with me and Christmas with him, the next the reverse. Seems amicable and fair, right? It is, but it’s also heartbreaking.

Years when I don’t have my son for Thanksgiving are bearable. Sure it’s my favorite holiday, but the lack of pomp and circumstance surrounding the holiday means that we can easily celebrate the weekend before or after. I am also blessed always to have lots of invitations to friends’ houses each November. This makes the holiday a bit less lonely when you’re a single mom and always makes me feel thankful for the wonderful support I have in my life.

Christmas is a much more difficult time for me. Waking up on Christmas morning alone, without the joy of my little one waiting to open presents sucks. That’s the only word for it. In my first year without him, I tried taking tips from my friends who don’t celebrate by ordering Chinese food and going to the movies. My mom, a Jewish co-worker, and I went to see Django Unchained at Magic Johnson Theater in Harlem. That was an experience, let me tell you. Since then, I’ve spent the other years watching a Christmas movie and crying over the happy ending.

This year, we planned our celebration for the 29th when I could travel to Maine to be with my family and have my son. Despite knowing that it was just a few days away – the 26th was hard. I tried a new tradition and threw myself full-force into holiday baking. I felt nostalgic, so I looked up old family recipes to feel closer to those I missed. I made my Nana’s bread: Anadama, my older brother’s favorite cookies: soft molasses, my grandpa’s candy: peanut brittle, and many other treats.

Recently I’ve read several articles about the zen-like effect of baking on the baker. This Christmas, I truly felt that. I focused on my loved ones as I baked with them in mind. Additionally, the completion of a task made me feel accomplished. I did it. I made something. It made the day pass quickly and allowed me to feel – dare I say – okay about being without my son.

Two years from now, when this time comes again, I’ll know what to do: create. Maybe I’ll try painting or knitting, but surely the act of focusing on a simple and achievable task while also holding the memories of those I love close will allow me to survive another holiday without my son.