Before I told my ex I wanted a divorce, I was hell-bent on getting full custody of my boys. I had always been their primary caregiver and thought that shouldn’t change. I was the one running the show deciding what they ate, when they slept, what activities they did and I fully intended to keep it that way. Now in hindsight, maybe my desire for full control was a touch intense…but in my own defense when you’ve been running a family for so long, it’s hard to imagine anyone else’s approach working. The thought of not tucking them in every night, wiping their tears, or waking up to their sleepy snuggles wasn’t just heartbreaking, it was terrifying. I was an anxiety-ridden mess when it came to the idea of sharing my boys. And yet, the day their dad and I sat down at the kitchen table and I finally said out loud that we should separate (something that, to be fair, didn’t exactly blindside him) we agreed on one thing without hesitation: that moving forward our boys would always be our north star. To us that meant every decision, even the hard and emotional ones, had to be rooted in what was best for the kids. Which meant that when he said he wanted joint custody, I had to be willing to give it a real shot.
Not gonna lie, I had huge reservations. I figured this custody arrangement would last a few months at most before the kids ended up living with me full-time. But here we are, nearly four years into the co-parenting journey, and I can say with honesty that the kids are thriving. I’ll admit the whole back-and-forth between houses sucks for them, but they’ve also discovered the perks of two homes. Looking back, choosing to truly put the kids first shifted everything. It pulled me out of obsessing over my broken marriage and refocused me on what actually mattered, making sure my boys felt supported, seen, and heard. Four years in, they’re still our north star. Their dad and I make decisions based on what’s best for them, even when it’s uncomfortable for us. And somewhere along the way, the most unexpected thing happened. I realised co-parenting hasn’t just worked, it’s actually made me a better mom.
Time to Exhale
As mom-in-chief of our household, I was in total control over the details of the boys’ lives. I managed everything from playdates to elementary school admissions (because NYC is an insane place to raise kids they say – and the public schooling admission process is one of the more insane aspects). But when I finally moved out of the family home, all of a sudden I only had control half the time. The boys were eating takeout, playing too many video games, and running on a completely different routine with their Dad. While I was alone- the guilt and loneliness was heavy. I felt like a terrible mom because I was the one that chose this. I missed them desperately and didn’t know who I was without them.
And then something surprising happened. One sunny spring weekend- while the world was awakening from a deep winter slumber, I began to exhale.
That kid free weekend, while I sat on my porch looking at the Hudson River sunset, my heart was so grateful for how far I had come. And then I sobbed, embarrassingly loud actually (so loud I wonder what the hell my neighbors were thinking, because there is no way they didn’t hear that) for a good hour. I felt my jaw, which had been clenched with years of stress, release. My shoulders finally dropped down my back away from my ears to their natural position. That evening was my first exhale. Full of joy and remorse, mourning the life I thought I was going to have and grateful for the path I was making for myself. I spent many nights on that porch with a cup of tea (okay, a bottle of wine, but who’s judging) after feeling it all. Those nights full to tears, supportive phone calls, and a lot of “tea” started my journey back to myself. On those nights, I wasn’t “mama.” I was just Megan again.
Over time, those evenings and weekends without the kids became an opportunity to rediscover who I was beyond “mom.” For the first time since giving birth, I had space to focus on myself- to think honestly about my life, the path I was on, and the one I wanted. I started imagining a career that fed both my soul and my bank account, and what a healthy relationship might look like in the future. That shift from devastating sadness to something closer to peace didn’t happen overnight. It took introspection, a very wise therapist, and the courage to question the stories I’d been telling myself for years. Eventually, that time to exhale became something I not only appreciated, but needed. I was finally giving myself permission to heal.
That first year? It was a lot. Emotions were high. The kids were melting down regularly. Both boys often ended up in my bed. I was trying to make ends meet in NYC, navigate mediation and divorce, and keep everything afloat. It was overwhelming. The reality is: as a single parent you are 100% on with the kids. Even with a spouse or partner who doesn’t do much, there is at least another adult in the house to lend a hand. That first year, I found myself flying solo, there were no backups. It was just me, and me alone. I needed those kid-free days to reset. I still do. That quiet time gives me the space to do the emotional lifting, so that when they come back, I can show up as the best version of myself. Because understanding who I am (in addition to mom) and what I need and want from this next chapter, has made me a more present parent when my kids are with me.
Time to Focus
Kids have a way of tracking the passage of time like nothing else. Before having children, years slipped by, one running into another only measured with a birthday dinner or occasional debaucherous girls night. But when that baby comes into your life, time becomes more tangible: three days old, 14 months old, and suddenly you find yourself driving a car full of ten-year-olds to another soccer practice. Gretchen Rubin’s famous quote from her book The Happiness Project sums up how those exhausting tedious moments of parenthood are in fact fleeting- “the days are long, but the years are short.” I feel that deeply. Time with my kids is precious.
The awful truth is that coupled with the fleeting passage of time is a custody agreement that decreases the days and hours I spend with my boys. So I decided to take nothing for granted. Instead, this limited time has sharpened my focus. I soak in the good night kisses and morning hugs that I do get. I watch a movie or read a story when asked. But I also prepare as much as I can while they’re at their dad’s. I tackle as much grocery shopping, work, life admin stuff on off days so that when they’re with me, I can be fully present. I make that time count. When they want to talk I do my best to stop what I am doing and listen with my full self. (A wise woman once told me, when your kids have something to say, listen, because they might not come back with whatever it is they need to talk through). It’s saying yes to another bedtime story when I should be doing laundry. It’s sitting and talking over breakfast, even if it means waking up extra early so I am dressed for work before they wake. It’s making sure they feel seen in a deep, meaningful way. My focus is my love for them. Because really, what could be more important?
One unexpected bonus of co-parenting with multiple kids is what my boys call “One-on-One Nights.” They alternate having a solo night with either me or their dad. It’s undivided attention- no sibling negotiations required. We’ve all come to love this focused individual time. One on one nights made it possible for my youngest to teach me his favorite Nintendo Switch game (I died constantly; he found it hilarious). I had the opportunity to bring my oldest to his first Broadway show. And no matter how old they get, they still ask to sleep in my bed those nights- though my almost-teen would be mortified if his friends knew. (For the record: it’s a very large king bed, and he insists on a pillow barrier.) But there is something that hits differently, turning the light out and having my son whisper good night mom, I love you, just before I close my eyes.
Time for Joy
Before my divorce, my life felt like a hamster wheel. Every day was the same cycle of kids, house, work. I was keeping everything afloat- but barely. I did all the things I was “supposed” to do: class parent, PTA, soccer referee, successful freelance career, maintaining relationships, cooking healthy meals, keeping a tidy home. (Basically the list of impossible standards that society holds all mothers to.) I had it all- and I was drowning.
The day I moved into my own apartment, something shifted. It was a sun-drenched corner unit overlooking the Hudson River, and the moment I walked in, I felt it: a flicker of something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Contentment. Gratitude. Joy. That first night, I slept on a single air mattress- the same one I’d been using the last month camped out in the kids’ room while dismantling our marriage. That night it felt different. Comfortably full of hope and supportive for a new beginning. I woke my first morning to my new life with a lightness that could only have been one thing- joy had returned just as I was taking back the reins of my life. I realized then: I needed to intentionally invite joy back into my life. More sunshine, more laughter, more adventure- anything that filled my heart I would actively pursue.
My solo weekends, when the boys are with their dad, gave me space to rediscover what joy looks like for me now. I’ve embraced gardening, despite my very questionable track record (RIP to so many plants that my boys tease that I have a brown finger.) I’ve reconnected with old friends who’ve introduced me to new adventures. I’ve gone on dates (a few magical moments followed by some disappointments). I picked up downhill skiing again after abandoning it 32 years ago after 2 seasons in Michigan ski club conditions. I even decided to learn how to skateboard- and yes, the skate shop gave me a senior discount, which is hilarious and hella cool. (To set the record straight I am in my 40s but the 20 year old manager thought a beginner skateboarder at 43 was ancient and quite possibly a recipe for a broken bone.)
I’m writing again. I host dinner parties and girls’ weekends regularly. And I go to concerts, more in the past two years than in the previous decade. It turns out, joy is around every corner. I just had to make the decision to grab on to it. That meant quieting my internal judgments about what everyone else might think of me (hello beginner skateboarder and skier in her 40s) and dive into living. I still have moments where I find myself back on that hamster wheel. But now I recognize the apathy faster. And when I do, I shift something: I seek out adventure, novelty, laughter, or connection. Joy isn’t something that just happens every so often. It’s now something I seek out.
I never thought I would admit this, but time away from my kids has given me the freedom to rediscover joy both on my own and as a parent. On my own, I have gotten to know Megan again. And with the kids, I get to share her. We now downhill ski together each winter and spend time with the whole families of my best friends in Michigan each August. Last summer I even took the boys to their first concert. While AJR sang my youngest’s favorite song, I took a moment to gaze at my kids, smiling ear to ear, belting out the songs that got us through the past four years. I just soaked it all in- the energy of the performance, the excitement of the crowd, and my overwhelming love for my kids. And as the band sang the lyrics “My favorite Color is You” I could physically feel the gratitude I have for these boys, and the quiet, overwhelming joy of sharing this life with them.
Do I hate being away from my kids? Yes. Absolutely. There’s no sugarcoating that. But I never could have imagined that this time apart would allow me to nourish myself and, in turn, deepen my relationship with them. The part of being a co-parent that I so dreaded, turns out it is an essential part of my success as a single mom. With those moments to myself I have rediscovered who I am and what I need, I am more focused on what matters, and ultimately happier. And because of that, I’m a better mom when they’re with me. Yup, I said it, co-parenting with my ex has in fact made me a better mom. And that, in the end, is what matters most.
