Dads House would like to introduce Simon
Simon will be will be taking charge of the new Dads House blog and writing about various topics related to single dads. He will be asking for your stories and contributions too.
Please share this page or the individual posts when they appear: http://www.dadshouse.org.uk/blog
Well Spring is coming and going, I guess typical UK weather. As I type it is hailing!!!
Don’t worry I am not planning a blog on Brexit, so please do read on…
So in the last blog I spoke about how the research suggests that social work has not engaged that well with single fathers in the main or effectively understood their needs and strengths. We at Dadshouse would very much like to hear about your experiences and views, and whether they fit with the research or not??
This time I want to build on the last blog and discuss the ideas of Borderwork and Border Crossing, which I discussed in my recent article on social work with single fathers.
Borderwork refers to spaces and times where intense gender differences are intensely felt and experienced. Meanwhile, border crossing refers to times where gender boundaries and barriers are deactivated and any gender divide can be successfully crossed. For me, these concepts offer some possibilities to better understand how single fathers interact with traditionally female dominated areas such as social work, children’s centres or school playgrounds.
What do you think and how do you experience areas and places that are traditionally female dominated. Does this result in feelings of acceptance or rejection, do you feel marginalised or welcome?
As single fathers we often stray from social and community norms on caring and masculinity. Do you feel that services are inclusive and gender-sensitive, recognising that men are privileged in society but that there are complexities and contradictions for single fathers?
What has made the difference when you have felt welcome, accepted and comfortable to go back?
Do take care all and please do share your views and experiences on this important topic.
Louise had the ability to make friends quickly and at the same time make deep lasting friendships. She would be considered best friends with quite a few girls and someone who could be trusted with the most private and personal confidences. I first saw her in a nightclub queue, she was elegant and dressed in black as always and was laughing with her cousins over from France.
One evening we were in her favourite pub, The Swan, and my brother had wheeled out his new girlfriend. It was hustling and bustling and people filtered in from work on a Friday evening. We were a group of about 15 and the new girl didn't know anyone at the table. Louise started talking and within 5 minutes the new girl turned to my brother and said, 'she's so lovely. She's amazing'. To which my brother, jokingly replied, 'hey what about me, I'm nice, I'm friendly!'. She could make people love her immediately.
I don't know what it was that she had exactly, but she wanted to be liked. I think this comes from her upbringing and family circumstances that making friends was vitally important. She was chatty, funny, bubbly and positive so I suppose who wouldn't wantjto be around her. I don't know what she saw in me really, I'm not like that at all. More groucho than hello but whatever it was that she liked, she really liked it and we made a great team. I'd say partners in crime, but Louise was as straight laced as they come, so perhaps soulmates is a better way to describe it.
None were right. 3 months 6 days later she died.
If, like me, you always watch The Snowman at Christmas. By the time it is shown in the late afternoon you might have had a sherry or two, and I'll always have a huge lump in my throat which even the neighbours can hear me swallow. Well, the closing scene chokes you up because in many ways, this is what it feels like to see your partner of 12 years pass away. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=sv-hizR6dUk
In no time at all you watch everything you loved, everything you built, everything you were excited about melt into a mere shadow of what it ones was. And soon you become painfully aware that there is absolutely nothing you can do, or say, or pay to change the nightmare that is taking place in front of you.
And in the end we are left with her scarf in the wardrobe, that I can’t bring myself to open; her hat on the shelf that I can't stop at and the other bits of our everyday life strewn across the house in exactly the same way it was before August.
Five minutes after birth Louise said, 'shall we call him Freddie?'. I said, 'he's only just been born shall we wait until we see whether he looks like an Freddie'. To which she replied, 'yes, yes, ok, lets wait'. Fifteen minutes later she asked one more time, ’shall we call him Freddie?'.
It was then that I realised they had been living together for 9 months. They already knew each other and had built a bond. It was me the new guy on the scene! And thats why I was crying and Louise (normally the soft one) was happy and behaving as normal. So I smiled and said yes, he's called Freddie.
When life is extremely unfair you look for the silver linings. And it does help me to know they were together for a year. But it doesn't take away from the fact we only had another 6 months all together.
My principal job was refraining us from going back into the hospital too early. I held out till the next afternoon when we were back in the Uber. They said, 'you're just there, 4cm dilated (at 10cm you're about to pop). Go upstairs to your room'.
And from then it went into fast forward. Louise got comfortable in the bed. I looked out at the setting sun. The midwife took a look at Louise and asked her not to push, but Louise kept saying thats all my body's telling me to do. She rechecked, called over to me, 'Husband, press that red button on the wall... We're having this baby NOW!'
Within a minute we had 5 people in the room, a wheely table with scalpels and other metal tools. She had moved from 4cm to 10 in about 20 minutes and now it really was game time. About 8 minutes later Freddie was pulled out all covered in blood and looking like a drowned rabbit, laid on Louises chest and wrapped in blankets.
I was so proud of her. I can't imagine a generation before when the father often wasn't there, its such a powerful experience and the admiration for the mum is off the scale. The emotion hit me after a few seconds when I saw him and tears rolled off my chin. The nurses and midwives loved that! We had grown the family that we'd always wanted.
My name is James and I’m a single father who’s looked after his son, Freddie, since he was 3 1/2 months old.
I'll be sharing my experience here to raise awareness for Dads House and to show other Dads who fall into a situation like mine, for whatever reason, that it's been done before. And I'll tell you about the good, the sad and the funny.
I am going to write about what it is like to be me. This will mostly be about the grief from the loss of a soulmate and raising my 9 month old boy.
The names have been changed because neither Freddie nor his mother can decide if they want to participate so I think it's fair to share our life accurately but with different names.
I feel like I've mostly had a vision and direction in my life, and fought to make it happen with optimism and then let the details fall into place. So I think this blog will follow the same strain. Let's see what happens...