September 11th was the day I finally realized the person I was dating at the time was going to be the woman that I marry.

It’s as vivid now as it was 18 years ago. My girlfriend, Jessica, had a doctor appointment on the morning of 9/11 near my apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Rather than stay at her place downtown and commute directly from her job on the 99th floor of the South Tower at the World Trade Center, she spent the night at my apartment so she could arrive at her doctor’s appointment on time.

On the morning of September 11th, I felt like a boxer getting a round of jabs to the head.

Punch. A dizzying feeling in my midtown office as the first phone call came in from Jessica’s best friend. She was hysterical, crying because she saw the flames from her morning commute on the Staten Island Ferry and knew Jess worked in one of the towers.

Punch. No one was able to reach my girlfriend on her cell phone. Did she race down to the office after her doctor appointment?

Punch. More calls streamed in from my friends, family and Jess’s family as the entire world watched on their computer monitors and television screens the horror that unfolded. Still, no communication with my wife. Most cellular service halted in New York City and everyone feeling fearful, confused and horrified. Our office closed for the day and sent everyone home.

In my gut, I knew she was OK because I saw her early that morning on her way to the nearby appointment. But I longed just to hear her voice to get confirmation that she was safe.

We finally connected later that afternoon. She never went into her office that day. She lost her boss and mentor, several friends, and numerous colleagues in the 9/11 tragedy. The silver lining is that day brought us closer together as we cried, grieved and supported each other in the aftermath. We will never forget.

“How much does a divorce cost?”

I asked myself this when my wife was pregnant with our second child, Justice. I even Googled this very question. I don’t remember what the answers were, but I knew they weren’t for me. A divorce was going to cost me money, a divorce was going to cost me time, and a divorce was going to cost me my family.

When my wife was pregnant with our first child, Journey, pregnancy was a new experience for both of us. It was such an exciting time. I was all in and completely connected with the entire process, from the second my wife’s said “I’m pregnant” all the way through the birth.

I once heard someone say the devil does everything he can to get you in the bedroom before you’re married and everything he can to keep you out of the bedroom once you are married. I also heard someone say the biggest intimacy killer in a marriage is responsibility. The more responsibility you have, the less time you have to focus on being intimate. Many couples with young families fall prey to this intimacy killer without even realizing that their relationship is slipping away. We didn’t want to fall prey to that.

Before our struggle became too great, we started seeing a marriage counselor. This turned out to be very good for our relationship. So good, in fact, that we decided to have a second child. But as the second pregnancy progressed, I was a little less engaged than I was the first time around.

By this point, my wife and I had been married for nearly 10 years. I knew she had become a person, who, if she really wanted something, would tell me. I trusted she would let me know if she had a need so I could connect with her. However, I had disengaged to the point that I didn’t notice some emotions she was feeling during the second pregnancy.

I thought that I was all in. I made sure things were good with our first child, so much so, that I began to neglect what my wife was experiencing and feeling during her second pregnancy. It got so bad that at one point we sat down at the table and asked ourselves, “Do we want to be married?” That was a very difficult question to ask.

Relationship ‘staff meetings’ for marital status check

As a couple, we routinely have a weekly “staff meeting.” During this weekly meeting we check in with one another and go through a list of questions. The questions we ask each other include:

1. What are your biggest barriers to your relationship with God?
2. What are your biggest barriers to your relationship with your spouse?
3. What are the most serious temptations you’re facing right now?
4. What are your greatest points of vulnerability?
5. How can I help you the most?
6. Do I truly want what is best for my spouse?
7. Do I want my spouse to feel loved by me?
8. Does my spouse believe that I have his/her best interest in mind?
9. Does my spouse see me looking out for myself first, or him/her first?

This routine kept us on track for where we wanted to go as a couple and in our walk of faith.

Sometimes it would be a quick 30-minute meeting. Other times, especially during the second pregnancy, our meetings would last nearly two hours. During one of our lengthy staff meetings, I said, “Let’s ask ourselves this question. ‘If we got a divorce, what role did I play in the divorce?’” She would answer for herself and I would answer for myself. It was a difficult question because I said, “We know the obvious thing.”

The obvious thing was actually getting divorced. We were both talking about it and thinking about it. The conversation was intense. If we were willing to pay the cost and go all the way to the very end, we needed to know that we had thought everything out. So, we asked ourselves the “what if” question.

The next week we came to the table, my wife had a list of things that she knew she would be responsible for if we got a divorce. The answers she provided surprised me because there were things that I thought she felt, but I didn’t think she would ever say. Then, I shared what I thought I would be responsible for. It drew us closer. So close, in fact, that we realized divorce was not worth it. We recognized we were just in a tough spot. This is part of being married. I feel, from my personal experience, that marriage is one of the things that you just don’t do by accident. You do it by choice. You do it intentionally.

Each day I wake up and I choose to be married.  There are going to be certain things in life that cause me to know that I’m choosing to be married, not just the “getting by” type of married, but striving to have a flourishing growing marriage. I don’t want a marriage where my daughters are miserable watching their parents together. I want them to see two broken people coming together daily for the better good of what they believe that they can have and offer one another.

How much does a divorce cost? Too much for me to ever want to find out because I am not willing to make the sacrifice. These are the types of conversations that should happen in marriages when children are involved. They need to be asked, they need to be discovered and deciphered because, if not, it’s too easy to get blindsided by not knowing what your spouse is thinking or feeling.

Marriage is a constant routine of re-evaluating, tweaking and re-engaging. Sometimes hard questions in marriage have to be asked, and when they’re answered, the goal is to see the answers from my spouse’s perspective. In essence drawing us closer to becoming one.

How much would a divorce cost you?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jonathan “J.O.” Oliver is a personal development coach, motivational speaker, author and a stay-at-home dad. He is happily married to Dr. Saran Oliver and together they have two adorable daughters, Journey and Justice. Being diagnosed with the gift of dyslexia and ADHD has allowed him to see what is possible rather than feel limited by his condition. He has authored two books, Joy In The Journey: 1st Year Chronicles From A Stay At Home Dad, and Impersonations. His next book, To The Little Boy In Me: Learning with Dyslexia & ADHD will be released in spring 2019.

Heart on a string photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

When Chris and I first got married, I was charmed and amused by the notion that I, a man-person, now had a Husband.

I had a Husband while simultaneously being a Husband myself.

My inner child loved it, finding it both weird and silly. That kid voice in my head giggled: “He’s your HUSBAND? But you’re both boys!”

It was unusual, and extremely pleasing, to talk about my Husband, rather than my Partner. And waaay better than talking about my Boyfriend.

I also realized how much I enjoyed hearing myself being referred to as Husband once again, in this new chapter of my life.

When your husband calls you Husband … it’s really something thrilling. It means you have a distinctly male role for someone, a masculine presence in someone’s life. At least, that is how my old-school, straight-raised brain translated it. Being Chris’s husband meant I was the Man in his life. I’m the one who would wrap him up in my arms when he needs to feel comforted or safe. My shoulder would be the one he could lean on for support. That notion was very special to me.

(And before I go any further, let me be clear: I’m not saying wives don’t provide the same thing for their spouses. I’m really not. So don’t troll me. I’m saying that for me, someone who had lived the majority of his life in Straight World and been brought up to see gender roles in a traditional way, who then came out of the closet at age 40, there was a sense of relief that I could still be the husband I’d always wanted to be.)

We’ve been married for years now. A fascinating and exciting experience, being a Husband to one’s husband.

But not long after I realized how much I enjoyed being called “Husband,” I realized it didn’t actually happen that often. Chris and I would be at some social event for his work, or mine, and when he referred to me, Chris would introduce me by saying, “This is my partner, Seth.”

It bothered me a little, at first. Especially when I realized I sometimes defaulted to calling him “partner,” too.

And we talked about it, curious about our behavior. We certainly felt like husbands. So why did we sometimes introduce each other as “partner”?

It’s an interesting question, considering more people support marriage equality now than ever before. Now more than ever, people are down with the idea of same-sex matrimony.

We quickly realized why. It’s simple and obvious: there remain some strong beliefs out there that undermine the idea of same-sex marriage. I can’t speak to what it’s like for gay women who marry each other, but I now see clearly how some folks still react when meeting two husbands.

“They’re playing house.”

Even in our enlightened context, there’s still a pervasive belief that when two men get married, they’re simply pretending. It’s not a “real marriage” if there’s no wife involved. Gay men are simply marrying each other so they can register for flatware, decorate a new house and pose for adorable holiday card photos with their twin Shih Tzus.

“They have an ‘open arrangement.'”

Without a woman to maintain monogamy rules, men are rutting pigs who give each other permission to rut away, even if it’s just under special circumstances.  I’ve had straight people pull me aside after learning I’m “gay married,” and covertly ask, “So … what’s the agreement you guys have if one of you is traveling?” I don’t think straight marrieds are asked that question. At least, not as often.

“They’re probably just temporary.”

Because gay men are … gay men, their commitments are temporary. They’ll stay together until they get bored, and then they’ll move on. Because, you know, men.

“They’re SO adorable.”

This one seems harmless, but we get it a lot — the condescending smile and virtual pat on the head by people who think it’s so cute how two men try to be just like a real couple. How. Cute.

It’s worth noting that it isn’t just uninformed straight people who harbor all these beliefs. I know more than a few gay men who believe and embrace the stereotypes, who shake their heads in disbelief when they learn that two more of their gay friends have decided to tie the knot.

The range of responses has been coming up more often lately because of the various functions we both attend this time of year: weddings, graduations, etc. This usually occurs when we meet new people and receive the full range of fun social reactions.

I went solo to a bat mitzvah celebration recently when Chris was out of town, and found myself at the reception that evening with a ton of people I didn’t know. There was probably a healthy mix of people with varying orientations. I was mingling to the best of my ability (which I sort of suck at in the first place), trying not to hover too much around the brie. As I met other guests and engaged in the basic conversational intel, I found myself purposefully going out of my way to drop the word “partner” from my lexicon and mention my Husband as often as possible:

“What a special event. My HUSBAND sure wishes he could be here.”

“These salmon puffs are fantastic. They’re my HUSBAND’S favorite!”

“That’s so funny that you’d mention Madagascar. Just last night my HUSBAND and I saw this great Netflix documentary on ring-tailed lemurs.”

Maybe I was leaning into the word a little too hard.

A friend of mine had to pull me aside and point out that I sounded like a weirdo who was making a husband up.

I’ve been a husband to two people in my life. One woman and one man. Both times, the role has been a point of pride and honor for me. I value the role, I take it seriously, and I see it as one of the greatest privileges one can have (as well as being a fundamental human right). I don’t want to be downgraded to Partner, especially since the right for two dudes to be each other’s husbands in the first place was so hard-won, even here in California.

And I absolutely don’t want to downgrade myself when I’m around people, just because of what their views may be about gay marriage or even gay people.

But as I attend more springtime social events, both with and without my husband on my arm, I’m realizing something fundamentally important: My husband and I are husbands not because others acknowledge our legitimacy, but because we do.

We are husbands to each other because we are two gay men in love, who are committed to each other for life. We are legal husbands because, aside from all the legal and financial benefits that come with the paperwork, there is something special about having our union officially acknowledged and respected in the place where we live. For us, being husbands who have husbands feels good.

Husbands is what we are, and what we get to call each other. We don’t have to downshift to Partner to make others feel more comfortable. And we don’t need to shout “Husbands present!” whenever we walk into a crowded room just to assert ourselves. We believe in the value of marriage, for couples of any orientation who choose to embrace it or define marriage itself in whatever way they choose.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get dinner started and choose a new Netflix nature doc for tonight. My husband and I have a date.

Photo: Nick Karvounis on Unsplash

My wife and I don’t have a perfect marriage, but one thing I think we do well is prioritize our time together. While we often take advantage of what living in New York City offers by going on the town, even on nights we stay home we choose to be together rather than retreat to separate corners of the house.

I’ve taken to naming this ritual, “Date Night Every Night.” It begins when the kids have gone to bed and we’ve finished all the kitchen cleaning, bill paying, permission slip signing and so on. After briefly catching up on what’s happened in our day, we are both ready to kick back with a glass of wine and our favorite TV show of the moment.

No (or at least not much) judgement for the couples who retreat to their own devices at the end of the day, but we have found plenty of good TV that fits in the overlapping area of our Venn diagram of tastes.

Here are some Netflix shows I think will be perfect for your Date Night Every Night.

To remember the single life

Master of None – “New Yorker Dev takes on such pillars of maturity as the first big job, a serious relationship, and busting sex offenders on the subway.” A fun look at what NYC life is like for the pre-kids millennial crowd that kinda makes me jealous, but mostly makes me happy to have settled down. Binge watch Season 1 because Season 2 premieres May 12. Aziz Ansari tweeted a preview:

Master of None Season 2 premieres May 12th on Netflix. pic.twitter.com/nqqogKPnrm

— Aziz Ansari (@azizansari) March 15, 2017

For the foodie couple

Chef’s Table – “Find out what’s inside the kitchens and minds of the international culinary stars who are redefining gourmet food.” This is one of the most beautifully produced shows I have ever seen made even better by the fact that we live in New York City and can go to some of the featured restaurants. Season 3 posted a few weeks ago with chefs ranging from Ivan Orkin of Ivan’s Ramen (headed there this weekend) to Buddhist nun Jeong Kwan.

For a good date night laugh

Unbreakable Kimmie Schmidt – “When a woman is rescued from a doomsday cult and lands in New York City, she must navigate a world she didn’t think even existed anymore.” The premise is somewhat absurd, but everyone can relate to being a fish out of water, especially in NYC. Another one to binge watch before Season 3 launches on May 19.

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpiJGd8EL8M

That should keep you two busy on date night, at least between the kids’ bedtime and yours.

Disclosure: I am part of the Netflix #SteamTeam and was compensated for this post. All opinions are my own.

Successfully blending families through a new marriage requires a lot of patience with the all issues that arise for stepsiblings, stepparents, stepchildren and, many times, ex-spouses. When blending families also means blending races, as my family is, it becomes a balancing act.

My wife is white and I am black. From my previous marriage, I have three kids who are of mixed race, black and white. My wife has two boys who are white, also from a previous marriage. This creates a unique dynamic. While many people can forget the differences they see in other races and cultures throughout the day when they get home, in a multi-racial family like ours, daily reminders instead follow us home.

With so many events regarding race and civil rights in the news these days, my wife and I often find ourselves having either to inform or comfort our kids. This is complicated by their ages. Having two children in high school, one in middle school and two in elementary school means the level of questioning and understanding varies greatly. Coupled with the multitude of different cultural influences each has encountered – from extended family to the national media, our work becomes even more challenging.

Blending families, racial understanding

The key, we’ve found, is creating an environment of open communication and emphasizing that we are, at all times, a family unit. As difficult as these conversations are, we make sure our home is a place where our kids can safely ask honest questions and share honest concerns about racial tensions. We talk about how these issues relate to each member of our family and share how we see things from each of our own unique viewpoints.

But the complexity of having such a diverse family is also one of its greatest strengths. My kids joke about the “advantages” of being of mixed race: being able to conveniently identify at any given moment with whichever race suits their witty narrative. It is also equally interesting to watch my kids’ reactions to their stepbrothers as they relate observations about race from a perspective that my kids can’t ever really understand because, as much as my children like to joke about being white from time to time, they will never have a genuine Caucasian experience like those of their stepbrothers.

Our kids are fortunate to have the perspective of my wife as well. Having lived and worked in culturally diverse areas, my wife brings a broad and informed view of many issues and is particularly adept at helping our kids relate to things from both sides of those issues. Working in a law office, she can often bring to their attention scenarios of social inequalities that our kids hear about on TV but don’t have a tangible parallel to relate to in their lives.

Blending families, combating stereotypes

As for me, I feel fortunate to be involved in the lives of my wife’s sons as it gives me the ability to provide them with a positive black male role model, one who combats the images and stereotypes they may most often be exposed to in the media and pop culture. They see my passion as a father with my own kids. They know me as a person on an intimate level. They have a daily view of a successful, responsible and educated man who is dedicated to providing for his family, and is as dedicated to them as I am to my own kids, and who just happens to be black. I can think of few better ways to give back to society than providing a positive male example across racial boundaries.

Yes, we get some looks when we are out as a family. Then again, any non-mixed couple with five kids in tow would turn some heads. But we do love to see the wheels turning in people’s heads as they surely assume my kids could be mine and my wife’s, but the white kids, probably not so much. More often than not, we will have a good laugh about it when we get home. But most of all, we also like to use those moments as openings for further conversation with our kids about race.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sean Singleton is a husband, proud father and stepdad to five children. The Northern Californian resident combines his passion for fatherhood and design as the founder of The PopLyfe Shop, one of the fastest-growing lifestyle brands for dads. He spoke about blending families at a recent Dad 2.0 Summit panel. You can follow him on Facebook or on Twitter.

Blending families photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

They say when you experience life through the eyes of your innocent children, you appreciate the little things so much more. And I suppose it’s true. Kids do change your perspective on things.

But kids change everything in your life, not merely the way you look at it.

It re-jiggers your comfort level. It alters your standards. Things you wouldn’t have been caught doing in your pre-parent life become the norm. Outrageous behavior becomes a way of life.

Your younger self wouldn’t even recognize you. And if s/he did, s/he’d think you were a TREMENDOUS loser.

Here’s a little before-and-after list of the ways kids change everything in your life.

At a restaurant

Before kids: “It’s awfully loud in here, do you want to leave?”
After kids: “Thank God it’s so loud, no one can hear their screaming!”

On a road trip

Before kids: “Careful with your soda, babe, I just got the car detailed.”
After kids: *Tosses Doritos and a bunch of fruit boxes in the backseat* “Now shut up!”

Going to the movies

Before kids: “I can’t wait to get the movie theater popcorn! There’s nothing like it!” *Finishes popcorn during previews, gets more* “Extra butter please!”
After kids: *Spend 20 minutes preparing microwave popcorn and shoving sodas in our pockets* “Eight dollars for Junior Mints? Please. This is already costing us $100 bucks. And we’ve missed the previews!”

Friday night

Before kids: *Blacks out, wakes up Saturday morning* “Where am I?” *Pukes … grabs a beer* “ROCK AND ROLL!”
After kids: *Wakes up during the credits of some crappy animated video* “God, I love sleeping.”

Having friends over

Before kids: *Spend all day cleaning* “The place is spotless. We’re finally ready for guests.”
After kids: “I wouldn’t sit there if I were you. .… A coaster? HAHAHAHAHA! … Go ahead. I’m pretty sure that’s just chocolate.”

Weekday mornings

Before kids: *Hits snooze* *Hits snooze* *Hits snooze* “The boss won’t notice if I’m a little late.” *Hits snooze*
After kids: *Wakes up at an hour before alarm goes off* “I FORGOT TO MAKE HIS LUNCH! WHERE’S HIS BACKPACK? SO HELP ME GOD IF HE MISSES THE DAMN BUS!”

Weekend mornings

Before kids: *Hours of blissful nothingness* “I love my life!”
After kids: *Gets kneed in the balls at 5:30 a.m.* “At least I made it past 5 a.m.!”

Going out

Before kids: *Considers multiple outfits, takes leisurely shower, makes drink, listens to music, gets ready, heads out the door at 11 p.m.* “LET’S DO THIS!”
After kids: *Totally forgets about plans until babysitter arrives, throws on smock, rushes out … gets home an hour later* “I’M GOING TO BED!”

A version of this first appeared on Dad and Buried.

I see what I want for my own children: always to have love in their lives … whether that be in a monogamous, lifelong relationship or whether their evolutions take them on journeys with multiple partners — or other forms I can’t even imagine.
_____________

I have been to a couple of weddings in the past few months. As one who has been married and divorced twice, I have felt myself wince each time when the couples pledged to be together for life.

The wince registers on many levels. An abiding sense of failure on my part, particularly with my second marriage. I have two sons, now ages 10 and 12, from that marriage, and I share custody with their mother. As I watch the boys go back and forth, with their own adaptive grace and resilience, I still think this is not the life I wanted for them.  I experience a sense of failure in not giving them the family life I wanted for them and I worry, and sense, that they miss this. And yet the wince is also that kind of knee-jerk reaction one has when witnessing something painful, like a car crash, that makes them turn away cringingly.

I am not writing a piece here about the impracticality of monogamy. Rather, I am thinking about what I want to model for my sons in terms of how they seek and enjoy love throughout their lives.

I have gained much from each of my marriages. I can’t call them mistakes; and if I think rationally about them, I’m not sure it is fair to see myself or the marriages as failures.

I entered my first marriage at the age of 22 as I headed off for graduate school. It lasted eight years and ended, in my view, because as my first ex-wife and I embarked on our post-graduate lives we discovered we wanted very different things. People can change quite a bit between the ages of 22 and 30. My second marriage, which lasted 12 years, ended more messily and its end took longer. Some time ago I behaved badly. We stayed together and worked things out for several years after that, and then she decided she wanted something else. While the end was painful and difficult, I have since come to realize I wasn’t getting what I needed in the marriage either. But I can’t really call it a failure or a mistake. The two sons I had with my second wife are the loves of my life, and fatherhood brings me much joy.

Endurance race or growth experience

My point is that each of these marriages gave me much, and I am happy to have had them both as moments in my evolution. They both helped me learn and evolve, and made my life better.

A good deal of the pain and difficulty of ending these marriages, I believe, is a product of the expectations set by the institution of marriage. The ceremonial ritual of marriage asks us to make a pledge to stay together for better or worse and till death do us part, even though statistics tell us more than half of marriages these days end in divorce. I know with each marriage I came out of, my self-esteem took a big hit. I felt bad about myself on some level because I was breaking a promise. To leave a marriage was an erosion of one’s integrity, a breaking of a promise, a welching on a commitment. The judgment from others, from society at large, is clearly felt.

But what if we didn’t have all of the expectations around marriage being for life — not to mention all the legal entanglements? We might be able to weave narratives of lives of loving that more flexibly and faithfully accounted for who we are and what we need as human beings. With that evolution of ourselves anticipated, we might engage in different relationships with people as we grow, change, and seek transformative experiences and be content in our lives.

The current love of my life, who also recently divorced after 27 years of marriage, likes to quote a friend who says, “What? Is marriage supposed to be an endurance race?”

More to the point, perhaps, are the words of a friend of mine. In counseling me through my second divorce, she suggested I think about how lucky I am that I had the experience of falling in love with great intensity — and fairly good longevity — twice in my life.

These words really struck me, and they came from someone who is now in her third marriage and has a great relationship with her now adult daughter from a previous marriage. Far from judging her, I admire the heck out of her.

And when I think about her words and watch her live her own life with grace, brilliance, self-confidence, and love, I see what I want for my own children. I want them always to have love in their lives, to be in a position to give and express it and to receive and be nourished by it. I want the love they experience to fuel them in all they do, to carry them to a greater sense of fulfillment of who they are and want to be. I want for them to be, in Neil Young’s words, miners for a heart of gold. As they live out the narratives of their lives of loving, I want them to have available to them forms through which to evolve as they love, whether that be in a monogamous, life-long relationship or whether their evolutions take them on journeys with multiple partners — or other forms I can’t even imagine.

Divorced or married: They are watching, learning, evaluating

While I have gone through personal struggles in my marriages and divorces, I try to model for them how to move on and find love. I am now in a relationship in which I am experiencing a love I never thought I could know. I find myself saying to myself and to her, “So this is love? This is what love is supposed to be. I have never felt this before.”

Her children are adults and have been having, seemingly, a harder time adjusting to her after getting divorced. My children, who were 8 and 10 when I divorced their mother, have adapted rather resiliently and almost seamlessly. Perhaps, at the younger age, their sense of reality and understanding of the social forms through which we live our lives are more malleable and fluid, in the process of being formed. They do not yet have a clear sense of a “norm,” or they are getting it from me.

I know they watch me. I know they learn from me and even critically evaluate how I live. So I want to show them how to love and be loved as I try to figure it out for myself. They are part of the process of forming a new and different kind of family. We are inventing our own environment of love.

The wedding I went to the past October I attended with my current love, who is once divorced, and a friend who is once divorced and now re-married to a woman in her third marriage. The friend also had a reaction like mine to the couple’s pledge to be wed for life, which I found validating.

And yet here we were, three people finding happiness and more love as we evolve and grow through life.

It would be hard to imagine not having the experience I am having with the woman I am with now and with whom I want to spend the rest of my life (if that’s not too ironic to say in this context).

Luckily, I don’t have to imagine that scenario. Instead, I would like to leave a legacy for my sons that allows them, gives them permission, to re-imagine themselves endlessly and to move through life lovingly and with love, recognizing that giving love and being loved, in whatever form, is the way to live life with most integrity.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Editor’s Note: City Dads Group is proud to occasionally feature writing from members of The Handsome Father, a support community that helps connect, prepare and inspire gay fathers. In this piece, Patrick Roth writes about letting his new husband into his daughter’s life.

I was a single parent during my daughter’s preschool years. It was a period of transition for us. We moved from the West Coast to the Midwest, contracted to build our first house and learned to live with the new dynamic of single dad and his little girl. I can remember tucking her in, reading bedtime stories and kissing her goodnight, only to wake the next morning to find a head of curly blonde hair on the pillow next to me. She would sneak in, ninja-like, in the middle of the night to crawl in bed with Daddy.

During that time, I was so focused on being a father that I didn’t give much thought to having a partner. I had learned to be content being single, was thrilled being a dad and totally absorbed in our daily routine. As these things tend to happen, I found THE guy when I wasn’t looking. He wasn’t looking for a partner either, and certainly not for an instant family, so naturally we fell for each other.

He knew I had a daughter from the beginning, but he didn’t meet her until he and I started to get close. I was very careful who I allowed in my child’s life. When they did meet, he was introduced as “Daddy’s friend.” She actually called him “Friend” for the first year or so. I knew he had potential because of how much they adored each other right away. Still, he didn’t spend the night until she asked if he wanted to come for a sleepover.

When we met, I had my own home and he had his. We were each established, stable and content with our lives. Neither of us wanted a “let’s live together” relationship and I wasn’t about to move someone in and let my daughter get attached to them unless I thought it was forever. We agreed that if we were to live together, it would only be if we decided to get married and commit our lives to each other. This was around the time that Canada legalized same-sex marriage. We married in a park in Vancouver with our adorable little flower girl at our side.

Pops enters the picture

Still, for the first few years together, she was MY daughter. While he was a fully committed and involved stepfather, all major decisions about her where mine to make. Even after she began calling him Pops, I had her long-term happiness and stability to think about. In my will, she would go and live with my mother if anything happened to me. At the time, she had known Grandma all her life, but Pops for only a couple of years. We knew that eventually it would be better for her to stay with him, but there were no set guidelines for when that would be.

After several years as a family, Pops asked to adopt her and officially be her parent. Coincidentally, the court date was set for the same day as our wedding anniversary. I remember him looking at me and saying “you realize this means you’ll have to start letting me make decisions for her too, right?” He’d tell you I still struggle with that.

We are 12 years into Pops being in our daughter’s life, more than twice as long she was alive before they met. We are completely and legally a family. He has all the same rights and responsibilities of a father as I do, but if I’m being completely honest, I will always think of her as my daughter. The time spent when it was just the two of us left a permanent and particular mark on my heart. I can never fully let go of that.

Now our family is even bigger. Pops and I jointly adopted a son last year. Even though I look back at my time as a single parent with warm memories of special times spent with Daddy’s little girl, I can’t imagine how I could have made it through the last 12 years without her Pops. I would certainly not have a son if not for him. His strength, compassion and commitment have been lifesavers for me and our daughter in so many ways.

That’s a funny thing about the human heart. No matter how full of love it is, there is always room for more. Me and my daughter became us and our daughter. Then it became us and our children.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Patrick Roth became a father in 1998. He lives in Austin with his family — husband Wade, daughter Julia and son Cephren.

Five years ago when I was 40, I came out. It was a rough process, to say the least. Coming out at that age means dealing with a lot of emotional baggage, especially if you’ve been living a publicly straight life up until then. Coming out at 40 meant not only starting a new chapter in my life, but also rebooting my life altogether.

My biggest goal was to come out responsibly. That meant being sensitive to my family and long-time friends, not all of whom might be comfortable with the idea of Straight Me becoming Gay Me.

About three weeks after I came out to the people in my immediate circle, my parents flew to town for a visit, and I came out to them.

That first conversation with my parents isn’t the actual story. That went fine. My parents are incredible people. They were great about everything. They said exactly what I’d hoped they would: that they loved me. Most of all, they wanted me to be happy and healthy. And that was that.

After their visit ended and they flew home, though, I still worried about them.

In particular, I worried about my dad.

My father and I are close. I’m an only child, the only son, and even though he and I didn’t always see eye to eye on every issue, we always recognized how lucky were were to have each other. But like many men of his generation, he’s never been one to share difficult emotions.

So a couple weeks after they’d flown back to their home in Colorado, I emailed him. At the time, I was living day by day, ending a 10-year marriage, watching and worrying about my 9-year-old daughter, spending time in therapy, journaling the crap out of every fear and anxiety that was washing over me. I emailed my dad to check-in.

How are you doing out there? I asked. I just wanted to let you know that we can talk if you like – I don’t know what you’re feeling right now about me being gay, but I’m here if you want to talk.

His first email response to me was short. He said he was fine, life back at home was proceeding normally.

Normal, that is, except, for one thing. His answer to my question about how he was feeling:

I’m feeling a sense of profound loss, he wrote.

A busy work day kept him from elaborating, so I wrote him back to say that, when he had more time, I’d like to learn more about what loss he was experiencing. I wanted to help. The next day he followed up with another email:

Son,

My sense of loss is not because you’re gay. I haven’t lost anything. You’re still my son and I love you.

Every morning, I look at the sleeping lady with whom I have shared my whole life. I think about how profoundly blessed I am to have experienced this unbelievable relationship I have with your mother. She and I have shared everything from the beginning. We were poor together; we counted her restaurant tips on the bed when we lived in the mountains. She always had total faith in me and believed I would make it. When we got married she had a year’s worth of college. Fourteen years, I watched her graduate from law school. She is everything to me.

I am saddened because I fear you will never experience anything like the relationship I have had with your mom. That is the reason I feel a sense of loss.

I read that email many times. My father wasn’t mourning something he’d lost. He was mourning something he thought I would never have after coming out.

My dad has known other gay people, of course. He’s a fan of equality. He wants good things for all people. But he’s also someone who has lived 60-plus years in a culture that tells us that gay people, at their core, are different from everyone else. It’s one of the foundational ideas that makes some people still question gay marriage: the notion that gay relationships lack something important, that the integrity of that relationship is compromised. Gay couples aren’t really “together.”

I wanted my dad to feel better. I needed him to not worry about me, to not worry that my life after coming out as a gay man would be one of solitude and isolation. So I wrote him back:

Hi, Dad.

Thanks for articulating what you’re feeling. I understand your concern about the life I will have now that I’ve come out, and I hope you’ll feel better when I tell you this:

I am not sacrificing the ability to have a meaningful relationship by coming out. In fact, the opposite is true. Now that I’m going to live openly and honestly, there’s a much stronger possibility that I WILL meet someone with whom I can have such a relationship. It will be different. I’m essentially starting over at age 40. This scares me a lot.  

But the thing is, coming out is the first step I have to take in order to find that person: the guy with whom I can share everything, just like you and Mom do; someone I can support, who will support me, someone in whom I can have faith, who will have faith in me; someone I can stand beside and know for certain that we’re on a road together. In fact, the only way I’ll be able to find that person is if I live my own life openly and honestly.

I sent him the email, he sent me a thank you note. We never discussed the topic further. I’m not sure if my words convinced him, or made him feel better.

But a couple of years later, I flew home to visit my folks, and I brought my boyfriend with me (who would later become my husband). I watched my father shake his hand. I watched as the three of us sat out on the sunny patio in the backyard and drank a few beers in the late spring afternoon. My dad asked all the basic Dad Questions, and my boyfriend shared stories about his life, his travels, and his job. I saw the relief and understanding on my father’s face when he looked at the two of us sitting next to each other. He saw I was the happiest I’d been in a very long time.

And now?

My husband and I have been married for two years. We’re just getting started on our adventure. And here’s what I can say:

Every morning, I look at the sleeping man next to me, with whom I’m sharing my life. I think about how blessed I am to be with him. He’s the person. For hundreds of reasons, he’s so the one.

I’m good here, Dad. I promise.

Photo: PublicDomainPictures.net

Four months ago, our family welcomed a baby daughter which makes me the proud father of two.  Our daughter is beautiful, delicious, and I love every ounce of her being.  It’s also been seven years since I’ve been back in the weeds with handling a newborn — the erratic crying, countless diaper changes, middle of the night feedings, and unpredictability.

I’m exhausted.

Before our daughter was born, my wife and I were consistent about hiring a babysitter at least once a week for a date night. It’s expensive, especially in New York City. We needed an opportunity to go out for nice dinners, to the movies, catch up with friends, or be spontaneous and figure out plans last minute.  We craved the adult interaction and relished in the moment for a few hours when it was just us…sans kids.

It was extremely important for us to take back that special time, our date night, as soon as possible after having our baby.  Even though we want to crash hard each night from the daily juggle of two children, we’re starting to find our rhythm.  We need to get out and keep that spark.  That means date night is back!

Last week, we were presented with an opportunity that we couldn’t pass up.  Sure, it was a Sunday night (a school night), but it was time to take the plunge for a night on the town to feel like giddy college kids.  We booked a sitter to have one of those only in New York City kind of nights.  My wife and I attended the first ever PlentiTogether Live Show, on behalf of the unique, new Plenti Credit Rewards Card from American Express, which featured an all-star concert collaboration with performances from Nick Jonas, Keith Urban, and Pitbull. All of these guys are superstars in their own musical genre, so it was pretty awesome that Plenti brought them all together for an amazing concert.

We danced, sang, celebrated, and shared a special evening together.  We came home flying high from a wonderful night out and were even more thrilled that our kids were sound asleep.

Success.

Time to book another sitter for this weekend!

**Disclosure: The Plenti Credit Card Team at American Express hosted us at the PlentiTogether Live Show in NYC and provided complimentary passes. All thoughts and opinions included in this post are my own and have not been influenced from the brand.