A MOTHER'S JOURNEY

SINGLE PARENTHOOD

As a single mum – even during the few early years living with the father of my boys under the same roof – one thing I have never done is use my children as weapons or pawns. My mistakes, his mistakes, they were ours not theirs. They did not ask to be born within dysfunction nor did they expect when born, to bear the repercussions of those mistakes.

So I have shielded them most of their lives. Yes it has involved pretence and at times blatant lies, deception and outright manipulation of circumstances to present him in the best possible light – in their young eyes.

"Daddy" had always been daddy, a person who appeared and disappeared, sometimes during bouts of 'almost normal' sometimes during instances of abysmal behaviour. Yet never did I belittle him, berate him or speak ill of him to my children – whether he was present or not. I wanted them to live with the idea they had a daddy and whilst he may have not been ideal or even 'suitable' at times, he still existed in their lives?

Of course, as they grew they began to understand. They spied me crying in my room after a phone call; they overheard discussions during which certain words (vile words) were aimed in my direction and they had gained knowledge of these words. Even then however, I continued with the lies and subterfuge because despite whatever I endured, I needed to maintain the illusion that their father loved them.

I have seen far too many instances of children used as pawns, children bartered, children caught between the hate and animosity of parents who will go to any lengths to punish each other. I vowed early on not to be such a parent. I upheld his right to have access to them, and I supported this access at great personal cost.

He had no such qualms however; his drug-induced paranoia and aggressiveness creating false realties where it was I and not his personal demons which caused distance to grow between his sons and himself. By the age of 15 and 16 I was no longer able to fully hide the reality within which their father lived, nor the repercussions of his continued battle with addiction.I saw them gradually distancing themseves from him, standing by my side?

It had been two and a half years since we'd last had contact. During this period, I often posed the question to them about re-connecting, seeing where he's at; I'd even volunteered to go see myself and report back on his current state? A part of me still wanted the illusion of their 'daddy' to continue?

This week has been an exceptionally difficult one. Dylan needed his father's Birth Certificate in order to obtain proof of his own Citizenship. He is travelling to South Korea as part of his University studies. Laws changed in this country however and simply being born here does not make you an Australian Citizen; you must either provide proof of having resided in the country for the first 10 years of your life if born here, or provide proof that either of your parents were Citizens by birth or became Citizens prior to your birth.

I had lost my Citizenship Certificate so applied for a replacement. The turn-around period was 80 days. We waited and waited. I tried phoning several times but was bluntly told it was "a process" and that I could not "jump the queue." During the last call, I was advised that an easier way might be for Dylan to apply for his own Citizenship Certificate directly. We filled the appropriate forms, had them checked at the Post Office and mailed them off to Immigration. We waited some more thinking that between the two applications, one would arrive in time? (I will dedicate a separate piece to this particular bureaucratic nightmare, trust me, it warrants one.) 

After another frustrating month, I resorted to the 'who you know' scenario, something both Dylan and myself would only ever have considered as a last resort. So I handballed it to my brother, who then passed it on to his Managers... Unfortunately, whilst his passport could be processed almost immediately, he still needed one parent's proof of Citizenship.

So I made that dreaded  call after first seeking permission from both boys. In fact I called three times, imploring my mother-in-law to provide their dad's Citizenship Certificate. I knew he had it, I knew he also had a usable passport, meaning it had been valid during the time of Dylan's birth. On each occasion, I was denied access to both, the excuse being "they could not find it," this quickly followed every time by a barrage of questions as to why I was not allowing access to my children and not giving out our current phone number. It sorely stank of manipulation, extortion and sadly, the ransoming of those documents - and in turn my sons.

My immediate reaction after I hung up each time was to go around there and tear the place apart until I located one or the other; indignation, anger and the many years of pent-up mental, verbal and emotional abuse surfacing uncontrollably. My boys forbade this however. Part of me ached, a pain so strong it doubled me over, manifesting in physical ailments... and yet part of me felt pride; understanding my sons were now old enough to dictate their wishes and to make steadfast decisions without any influence from me. Protecting me!

This was in every way the last opportunity for any reconnection and their 'daddy' blew it. Yes, they have to live with this now, all pretence gone, any secret wish they harboured shattered. He missed all of their milestones but those past disappointments always came with the premise/promise that he'd make it to the "next one". Now, there will never be a next one.

Parents. I implore you to never, ever use your children as weapons in the personal war waged between you. Bite your damn tongue. Watch your words and control your behaviour. Do not place your children within your battleground. They never asked to be born, nor did they expect to find themselves caught between two warring factions, each side trying to prove the other side the enemy. Think about this: If before birth your children could foresee their future, would they pick you as their parents? Would you be deemed worthy in their eyes?

Part amicably. Move on without hatred accompanying you. Be present in their lives, support their upbringing... remember the emotion which brought them into being, not the aftermath, not the subsequent reasons for your disconnection from each other. Above all, respect their rights.

So that one day you never have to answer this question: "Why did you give us his surname?"