My Story
The day that my fiance put her arms around me and told me "You're going to be a Daddy!" was the happiest day of my life.
I was 41 years old at the time. We weren't even living together; our new house in Durham was almost ready for us to move into. I'd driven down to the flat my fiance had in Bishop Auckland with my head spinning and heart pounding. It felt like checking the lottery numbers and seeing that, at first glance, you've got the lot.
That was how I felt driving down from Gateshead to Bishop Auckland. The reason I felt that way was that we'd been trying to conceive for a short while and earlier that morning she had phoned me to say that she was late and was going to take a pregnancy test. She said she'd wait until I arrived but I knew she'd already know by time I got there.
I daydreamed all the way down the 30-odd miles to her flat. All I wanted was her to be pregnant All I wanted was us to be a family.
I'd only been in the flat a few minutes; I was trying to avoid asking the obvious question and also trying to gauge her expressions, behaviour and demeanour for clues.
She stood up and walked towards me. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. She smiled and said "You're going to be a Daddy!" I don't remember if I cried or not but I know I had never been happier in my entire life.
I do remember putting her into my big 4x4 Mitsubishi Shogun Sport, nicknamed "BigBulls" and feeling good that she was safe and protected. Our child was growing inside of her and all I wanted to do was love them both and protect them both.
We drove to Costa Coffee, had tea and sandwiches and cake. I paid. I was just so happy that nothing else mattered.
Boy meets girl...
That day, when I learned I was going to be a Dad, when we went to Costa Coffee and I was happier than ever, was April 2016. It was almost 10 years since I had first met the beautiful 22 year old girl who would go on to become the mother of my child.
Ten years had come and gone from first glance, first meeting, first chat up line and first move. She pushed in front of me in a bar and I bet her she'd get served before me or I'd buy her drinks. Turned out to be the best bet I ever lost and the best £3.50 odd that I ever spent!
That was October 2006. A fateful and beautiful autumn night that also saw our first kiss.
Years came and years went. We had a few dates. We lost touch, found touch, made some memories and made some mistakes. She was never far from my thoughts even when I was with other people. Likewise, she wrote chapters in her love-life with other leading men.
Finally in 2014 we got together. They were good days. They weren't perfect. There were times when I wondered what her motives were. There were times when I thought that something was wrong. But we came through it. We holidayed together; she looked beautiful every night when we went out. We got engaged. We sorted a house for us to live together. We tried for a family. And we conceived...
The couples that are truly right for each other wade through the same crap as everybody else. The big difference is they don't let it take them down.
There were clues all along that something wasn't right. I'm not sure if love is blind or whether I just chose to look the other way. We just didn't click living together. She always had an excuse to sleep in the spare room. Our love life went all Keyser Soze and vanished off the face of the earth. But we were having a kid together so I did everything I could to make it work.
The weeks building up to the birth were good; we were close. It was Christmas 2016.
On December 13th our little girl was born. And I had a new best day of my life.
Having a kid is hard. You probably already know that. It takes its toll on a couple. If there's cracks already there, then the pressure of a new baby often exploits those weaknesses and pushes the relationship to the brink.
By the following June, when our daughter was just 6 months old, we cracked and split up.
I often wonder if all she ever wanted was a kid and some cash. I often wonder if that's just an easy way of avoiding my own short-comings. For the record, I was at least equally to blame for the break up. I made some mistakes, some decisions I'll regret for the rest of my life. But I stood up and fought for that relationship. I did everything I could to try and convince her not to end it.
We were like a horse falling at the first Hurdle. We had some problems but in truth it didn't need to break us up. I truly believe that when kids are involved, breaking up should be a last resort, not a first resort. It sometimes felt like she was looking for an excuse to end it. And I gave her one. Boy did she grab it with both hands...
Only she will ever know the truth. The fact remains: she ended our relationship at the first opportunity she had to do so. I was out of her life. But the battle to stay in my daughters was just beginning.
The break up was incredibly difficult. I lost my fiance, I lost my house, I had to move out, I lost my dream of being a family and most importantly I suddenly lost loads of time with my little girl.
I was haemorrhaging money in all directions but I didn't care. I was working full-time, on a late shift, having to find somewhere else to live, having to perform at work, having to plan my fight to get access to my little girl and I was so tightly wound I was like a clenched fist 24/7.
I'd get home from work at around 10pm. I didn't have time to cook something healthy so I either ate nothing or I had a takeaway. Working late meant I needed a few hours to unwind and usually bedtime for me was around 2am.
I was only allowed to see my daughter when my ex said I could. I was so angry at that injustice. But I had no real choice but to accept the little she gave me.
Hence, every morning I was up at 6am for my daughter being dropped off around 6:30am. I was lucky to get 4 hours sleep a night.
I'd change nappies, feed the baby, wash & clean her and put her down for her nap. I'd change her again, play with her then around 11am I'd drive her 15 miles south to nursery. Then I'd drive 30 miles north for work starting at 1pm. I'd do 8 hours at work off the back off junk food and cigarettes before going home shattered at 10pm. And repeat...
Within that I had solicitors, court cases to plan, mediation to arrange, furniture to buy, as well as baby proofing my new home.
I didn't see it happening but the lack of sleep, the lack of good food, the heartache, the reliance on cigarettes and junk food and filling in the Friday nights without my daughter with alcohol were all taking their toll on my mental health, physical health, emotional health and financial health.
"I don't need to be the king of the world. As long as I'm a hero to this little girl..."
We split up in June 2017. I was manipulated into moving out. "If you don't move out, I will, and I'll take our daughter with me and she will lose this house". I was allowed to see my daughter for 90 minutes every other day at my ex's house, supervised by my ex in an absolutely horrid atmosphere. I could have rejected it but if I had I'd have gotten nothing at all.
When my ex returned to work from maternity, in the September of 2017, I was allowed access which fit around her work pattern. It was insulting and degrading. I am a father. But I was used as a makeshift when she had to work and nursery was closed.
In her mothers eyes I was unimportant. In the eyes of the family courts I would prove unimportant. The biggest discrimination in this country is that inflicted upon Single Dad's.
I fell into a terrible routine of poor diet, no exercise and very little sleep due to circumstances that simply overwhelmed me. I was NEVER suicidal but I was killing myself with cigarettes, stress, anxiety, sleep deprivation, worry and junk food vs not eating.
There wasn't enough hours in the day to do everything that needed doing. I put my energy into fighting for my daughter and everything else suffered: including my health, my job and my mental, emotional and financial well-being.
I was clever and I fought well, fought hard and fought smart. I treat my ex with nothing but dignity and respect. I treat it like a business deal. Regardless of what I thought or felt about my ex I wanted to clinch the deal, so I smiled, did things right and sometimes faked it to come out on top. A friend advised me to always take the high road and so I did. While she tried to play the victim and paint me as an unfit father, I owned my mistakes as a partner but stood my ground as a father,
I praised her as a mother but pointed out that her being a good mother didn't make me a bad Dad. I never looked back and apportioned blame. I constantly strived for resolution. Every step of the way I was strong but polite; savvy but unwavering.
I had mediation booked almost instantly. I paid my maintenance on time every time. I recorded everything on an Excel spreadsheet; a diary of every single incident, development, event and any access I had.
I had the c100 form ready so as soon as mediation failed (because she wouldn't allow our daughter to sleep at my house and would not budge on that) no time was lost. I nailed my CAFCASS phone call from the privacy of my car in the works car park one autumnal afternoon as the sun set and I had my ex in court as soon as I could get her there.
I'll always believe that she had no real objection to our daughter sleeping at my house. Her argument was laughable. It was all financial for her. She needed the higher level of maintenance from me until she got her annual pay rise. If our daughter began sleeping at my house then my ex would lose money. I will never doubt for one moment that she sacrificed our daughters best interests for her own financial well-being.
By December we were in court. By January I had won. I was granted overnight access. She had successfully dragged things out until just before her pay increase kicked in and I'm sure she was happy with the outcome. That, to me, only proves that she had no real objection to overnight access all along and she hurt our daughter, hurt me, cost me a fortune while she benefited from legal aid, all to protect her money.
I enjoyed watching the judge see through her and put her in her place on occasion. I enjoyed rejecting her suggestion that we return to mediation. I enjoyed getting what I fought for. And soon after, while MY daughter slept in HER bedroom in MY house, I sat on the floor next to her cot and stroked her hand and savoured the victory. And although it was a victory that came at a price, it was a victory nonetheless.
In the December, on the eve of the Christmas festivities, I walked out of work and never went back. I had some time on the sick with stress and then took an unpaid sabbatical that saw me through to the summer of 2017.
There was no way I could honour the access I had been granted AND keep my job. So I took a massive pay-cut and took a part time job based around my little girls childcare.
I was smart. I was only granted 5pm Tuesday night to 11am Wednesday morning plus every other weekend. I explained to my ex that, she could stick to that and pay for nursery fees or she could save a small fortune and allow me to collect our daughter before lunch on Tuesday and return her after teatime Wednesday. She agreed. My ex also struggled to get to work on time on Monday's so asked if I would help. I did. My access from court-victory to our daughter going to school is two half days and one full day a week plus alternate weekends. I see more of our daughter than her Mam does. Still, despite her earning three times what I do, I pay her child maintenance because our daughter sleeps at her house more often than here.
I could let that anger me but I don't. My little girl and I have an amazing bond. We are so close and so tight and we're more than father & daughter; we're pals. We're best pals.
My daughter doesn't care that I don;t make much money; she cares that I make her smile and make her laugh. She doesn't care that our car is 10 years old and - much like myself - the bodywork has seen better days. She cares that we have car-picnics on our day trips to the beach or wherever. She cares that I am strong enough to pick her up and make her feel like she's flying. And there's not a paycheck in this world I would take in place of seeing her beaming smile as she comes running over to me shouting "My Daddy!" when I pick up from nursery.
It's been 3 years since we split up. I've always treat my ex with decency and respect and that not only helped sway things in my favour in court but it's also proven the foundation for the good relationship that me and my ex have now.
So when she goes away for a weekend and needs someone to have our daughter, she comes to me first. When she has to work extra and needs support, she asks me. If I can help I always do. My daughter would rather be with me than anyone else anyway and I cherish the time with her. So it's win-win-win.
It's not one way either; my ex does a lot to help me too. I'm welcome in her home, which is my old home, and she is welcome in mine. We've both put our daughter to bed and read her goodnight stories in each others homes. We're friends now, perhaps. We're certainly civil and it isn't forced; it's natural. Who benefits from this? I do and my daughter does. If her Mam does too then that's healthy.
I want her to be happy; her happiness is a key factor in our daughters happiness. There's some feelings I bury; there's some bitterness I let go. I believe in karma. I just do my thing and if the universe wants to dish out any vengeance then so be it. I'm not here waiting on it or hoping for it.
I see more of our daughter now than her Mam does. It's not easy being a Single Parent be it Single Mam or Single Dad. I'm far from perfect. I think I do a pretty good job when I'm with my little girl and to be honest the little bugger adores me! It's when I don't have her that I sometimes come a little undone. I have the odd cigarette when I'm lonely or stressed and there's plenty room to better my diet and exercise.
"Behaviour is the mirror in which everyone shows their image" [Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. I still have room to better my image. And I have the best reason ever to do so: I'm a little girls Daddy and she needs me in her life.
We're heroes to our children, especially when they're young and innocent. It's a hard standard to live up to in our own real lives. For me, life is heavy-laden with Kryptonite. I've yet to find my Lois Lane. But every time I think of the bairn, I realise I might as well have a giant "S" on my chest and a cape on my back.
"You're a Brilliant Daddy", she said...
"You're a brilliant Daddy", she said. We were walking hand-in-hand along the beach, me and my 3 year old daughter. In a way she was right. I'd had to work so hard to stay in her life after me & her Mum split up. It was a battle that took it's tool. She would never know how much it cost me financially, emotionally, mentally and even physically. I looked at her beaming little face and agreed: I was a brilliant Daddy.
Then I thought about how I was too tired to do any exercise these days; how I'd fallen back onto cigarettes when I get stressed and how my diet had a lot of room for improvement. I thought of how these bad habits were damaging my health and would likely, one day, be the root cause of the death of me. And she would lose me, the Daddy she loved so much. And I realised I wasn't a brilliant Daddy at all.
If someone stole her favourite toy or her favourite comforter, I'd fight like crazy to get them back. But I was so tired from fighting to be part of her life, so battle-weary from the break-up and all the ramifications that I'd stopped fighting for my own life. And so I set up Ama Papa... to help me, just a regular Single Dad... to help other Single Dad's like me... to have a longer life, a better life and to help us stay in our kids lives as long as possible.
