The individual you refer to as dad isn’t your biological father. There, I’ve stated it clearly. Eventually, I will need to express this truth aloud because I know that someday you will approach me with questions. You will start recalling the time when your surname was different, and you’ll be mature enough to understand that it didn’t change simply because “mommy and daddy got married.” You’ll likely observe physical differences between you and him. You might hear whispers from others. You may even find yourself in school with your half-sibling. You have other half-siblings out there, and you’re unaware of it. You don’t yet grasp the concept of a stepfather.
I will have to share these realities with you. As I attempt to weave together the narrative—a blend of truth and sugar-coated stories—I can’t deny that I will be dishonest. I will obscure certain details until you’re old enough to read the court documents or until you choose to seek the truth on your own. I still hold the role of your mother, and the thought of causing you pain is unbearable.
Explaining Your Biological Father
To you, my daughter, I will explain that your biological father was there for me in my time of need. Some people feel compelled to love and mend broken things, and he was one of those individuals. I will tell you that he tried to fix me when I was in pieces, but it ultimately didn’t work. Although we both endeavored to be good parents for you, he eventually moved on to someone else who needed him more, as people of his nature often do. I will share that he chose your stepdad to be a part of your life, that he looked at our unconventional family and said, “Yes, he can adopt her.”
However, I won’t mention how he gradually stopped showing up, stopped calling, or made countless excuses for his absence. I won’t tell you that he had other children and that the woman in his life wished to exclude you and me, and that he made that choice. I hope that you’ll forget that any of this ever occurred.
Sharing Your Father’s Story
To you, my son, I will describe how your father and I were like two live grenades in a room, waiting to explode. I will tell you that we loved intensely and eventually burnt ourselves out. He was a courageous man, serving his country repeatedly and losing a part of himself each time. I will tell you that he was wise enough to step back from your life when he realized he couldn’t be the father you needed. I’ll explain that he called me to ask for your stepdad to adopt you to ensure our family felt complete.
I won’t delve into the darker aspects of our relationship—the infidelity, the substance abuse, the fights, or the struggles we faced in poverty, receiving Christmas gifts in trash bags from the church. I won’t reveal that your last encounter with him was when you were just learning to walk. The only father you two know is the one who has cared for you.
The Fear of Truth
Yet, I fear the day I must confront the truth with you—the day when last names no longer mask biological realities, and you feel the urge to seek out and connect with your biological family. I wish we could be sufficient for you, but deep down, I know the moment will come when we won’t be.
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Conclusion
In summary, the complexities of family dynamics can be challenging to navigate, especially when it comes to understanding parentage and identity. It’s essential to approach these conversations with care and compassion, preparing for the day when truths must be revealed.