So, people say stupid shit.
On my way home from a therapist session a fellow bus passenger commented on the fabulousness of my daughter- obviously. He shared that he too was the parent of a three-year-old girl.
He then asked, “Do you let her father be in her life?” I never mentioned I wasn’t with her father. He, as far as I know, does not know her father. And custody agreements aren’t an organic conversation topic shift from, “My kid really likes Elmo.”
I’m a pretty open person, and maybe it’s obvious, because this is not the first time I’ve been asked this question. And it was not the last. I’ve been asked this since I was pregnant. The first time was on the bus. After looking at my wicked cool baby bump a woman asked me if I even knew who the father was. I waved my left hand, trying to nonchalantly show my engagement ring. I replied yes, following up with our wedding date. I wish I didn’t do that. What that woman asked was presumptuous and rude. By answering I was validating the fact that I was “responsible” and “not like that.”
I didn’t end up getting married; I called it off two weeks before we were scheduled to be man and wife. So look at me, I am like that; and pretty too.
Yes court dates and intense therapy sessions later, Patience’s dad is a part of her life. She visits him every second weekend. If she asks to call him, I dial his number for her. She makes him birthday cards and he is on our Christmas card list.
The court dates mentioned were not petty “I just don’t like him”. They were because of his violent past behaviours. I know, and knew, I was right to be cautious. So how did these strangers manage to make me doubt myself?
Patience has plenty of male role models, which a past therapist so kindly pointed out (I swear this post isn’t sponsored by Therapy Inc.). She is best friends with her uncle; despite the 26-year age gap, they seem to have a lot in common.
Fathers are obviously important. Or I should say good fathers. I don’t see my biological father and thank heavens for that, when I did he did more damage than good, if any. Children need happy, healthy, responsible, loving people in their life, not dangerous people based on DNA.
Sorry to debunk another “Why single mothers are the devil” theory, folks.
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