There’s a particular kind of quiet that sets in at night once the dishwasher is running, the toys are picked up, and your child is finally asleep. It’s the silence that follows the chaos—and sometimes, in that stillness, the loneliness creeps in.

Solo parenting comes with so many joys, but there are also moments when the weight of doing it all alone feels heavier than usual. Like when I’m paying bills at 9:30 p.m. and wishing there were someone to share the load—or even just the company. Or when a parenting decision feels big, and I have to be the only one to make the call. There’s no one to say, “Yeah, that sounds right,” or “Let’s think it through together.” It’s all on me.

That kind of solitude can feel isolating, even when you love your child more than anything and are endlessly proud of the life you’ve built. It’s the absence of a partner in the day-to-day decisions, in the celebrations, in the slog. It’s the fact that no one else is quite as invested in the small wins and tough calls of your parenting journey as you are.

But I work hard to keep that loneliness at bay—because it doesn’t get to define this experience.

I talk to people on the phone all the time. I have a rotation of friends I call regularly: some are available during the day, between meetings or during their commutes, and others are more free in the evenings once their own kids are asleep. These calls aren’t always deep heart-to-hearts (though sometimes they are). Sometimes it’s just chatting about our days, venting, or swapping stories. That connection helps.

I talk to family, too. There are people in my life who check in consistently, and that makes a difference. I’ve also leaned into neighborhood friendships. Even a quick catch-up while the kids ride bikes or sharing a glass of wine on the porch goes a long way in feeling seen.

And we stay involved in our community. Whether it’s school events, local gatherings, or the shared rituals of a congregation or club, being around others gives both me and my child a sense of belonging. It reminds me that we’re not on an island, even if I’m the only adult in the house.

Solo parenting can be lonely—but it doesn’t have to be isolating. I’ve built a support network on purpose, and I’ve learned to reach out rather than retreat. That takes effort, and sometimes vulnerability. But it also builds strength. Real connection doesn’t always look like a partner on the couch next to you—it can be the friend who answers your call at the end of a long day, the neighbor who waves from across the street, or the people who show up in your life in small, steady ways.

To all the solo parents out there navigating the quiet moments—you’re not alone. And if you need a reminder, I’m just a blog post (or a comment section) away.