According to a study by the Pew Research Centre, the number of single fathers increased ninefold between 1960 and 2011. In 2016, the US Census Bureau found 2 million single fathers in the US where 40% were divorced, 38% never married and 16% separated with the remaining 6 widowed. The role of the father has evolved and the public is now more accepting of men’s role not only as breadwinner, but caregiver. While I know someone in each of those categories, my own journey into being a single dad was more gradual. My ex and I shared custody once upon a time. As our daughter got older, she stayed with me more and more and I eventually became the majority custody parent; my ex got every other weekend. Eventually, it was one night out of fourteen, and now, it’s optional altogether.
Some of my dad friends remarked that it must be nice not having to negotiate everything and I can just do it all without going through a committee for the littlest of things. Well, the fact of the matter is that I would much prefer equality right across the board even if it’s just a co-parent.
For starters, drop-off and pick-up was a logistic nightmare. When it was daycare, times were predictable. When my daughter became more serious in her extracurricular activities, practice, rehearsal, performance, competition times were so varied and sometimes spanned the weekends, that I had to juggle my work, my personal, family, hers and her activities calendars to accommodate. It was like booking a meeting with five or more people whose calendars are often blocked. I am constantly double and triple booked even in my own personal calendar!
Because my ex-wife has become less and less involved in our day-to-day lives, her saved vitriol is even more potent for the times we do have contact. I think this is an expression of her increasing isolation from us and her attempt to engage. But often, this engagement is disruptive and comes across very interrogating. While she is cordial with our daughter, the encounter I get is often frictionous. I have come to accept the fact that for as long as I am alive, there will be someone who hates me for what I do.
Life sent me down this curved road. I’ve decided to accelerate into that curve and it’s become a hell of a ride, often screaming with joyful tears!
Although my circle of friends was pruned and some of the people who fell away weren’t much loss, making new friends is hard as they tend to be child centric (other parents). Dating was a bit weird, too. I just don’t want to get into the habit of bringing people home to avoid a clash of worlds. I want to keep my home a safe sanctuary and so I separated my fatherhood from my personal life and at times, felt I lived a double life. I hated it.
One of the most irritating things when people see me with my daughter (especially when she was younger) was the prejudice I faced. “Mom’s day off today?” I was in Central Park chatting with other friends once and was categorized a Brooklyn Dad, referring to men bringing their kids into the city on a Sunday. I’m very capable of being responsible and don’t need people to assume that I’m a relief parent. I hate it when people voice their judgements.
And probably the most difficult thing for me to get adjusted is when my daughter isn’t home. While I am free to do what and when I please and I do, I have also gotten used to her presence, both quiet and noisy. I miss her strewing bags and socks about the house. I miss the dirty dish left in the sink. I miss watching a movie and having to break at least 10 times to get a snack, go to the bathroom, or explain something. It just feels a bit…undisturbed…when she’s not around the house. I’ve come to hate that.
But despite it all, my daughter and I have carved out a life that works for us. Although I never intended to be a divorced man, much less a single parent, I have come to relish the role and it has come to define me. Life sent me down this curved road. I’ve decided to accelerate into that curve and it’s become a hell of a ride, often screaming with joyful tears!
