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Something different

Filed under: General — Craig @ 12:22 am Wed 14th October 2009

My son is twelve. Its been a journey but finally there may be a light at the end of the tunnel.  You see, I have been supporting my son since he was born but yet have never been able to support him.  Supported in dollars yes, but not in the normal sense of being a father in the same house.  It started with my relatively new girlfriend of two months going cold on me.  One month later she told me she was approximately two months pregnant.

I now assume the coldness was the hormones kicking in from pregnancy.  Shocked is an understatement, but I was keen to fulfill my duties.  You see, I didn’t mind being a father. I thought that the pill would suffice but if the percentages didn’t work then it would be all ok (it was at the time – too good). Little did I know that the pill and antibiotics were not a good mix.  Anyway, after I got the cold shoulder I learnt of my son’s birth. I wasn’t told until after it happened – it did hurt being left out.  New boyfriends were showing her the way.  I guess thats what you get for taking her off of someone else in the first place.

She took a lot of persuading to convince her to put me down as the father for child support duties.  As a consequence, I stupidly assumed that my name would go on the birth certificate.  Ten years later, it turned out in my favour, but later with that. Yes, I did ask if he was mine, pretty much got slapped in the face verbally. Looks, Acting ability, Humour, traits, brains – my sons got it – she aint.

In the mean time I tried to keep in contact with my son.  I wasn’t that good at it, but was good at paying my bills.  Flew over a few times and got to know my son a bit more, he started to realise who i was.

Something happened while I was over here that changed things a lot.  My son’s mum left their house after my son’s sister was one year old.  She left for a few days aparently and the leech pounced.  He used lawyers to gain custody of my son and his (birth) daughter.  My son’s mother was virtually diagnosed with bipolar and it went downhill from there.  She moved 100km away, he decided to use lawyers to pressure her to allow him to move to the other end of NZ.  Caught her on a down day, she signed and it worked, I didn’t have guardianship and was overseas so wasn’t consulted.  He took the house cause he could.

I changed to paying child support to my son’s supposed step father – weird!

It has helped a lot with my son getting to stay at my parents each christmas holidays for a number of years. Now he is really getting to know me and misses me heaps.

I recently talked my son’s mother into allowing me to get added to his birth certificate.  There was no father on there and I got added after 2005 so i assume that I now have guardianship.  Have not rocked the boat yet.  In the mean time, my son’s mother has now had a third child (yes, three children to three fathers).  If you are wondering, she pays (minimal) child support to my sons stepfather for her daughter and my son.

What’s the next move?  You guessed it, my son has requested to stay a whole month this christmas.  It won’t be long before his feet do the talking. This is to my 13 year old stepdaughter’s glee.  She’s got that brother she has always wanted.

I am still a father, just swapped kids.

3 Responses to “Something different”

  1. Bruce Tichbon says:

    Phew! What a story. My heart goes out to you.

    Craig, can you contact me off site please.

    Bruce Tichbon Email tichbon@hotmail.com

  2. Ivan Zverkov says:

    Dear Craig, your vivid story about family sufferings lacks an appropriate conclusion, along the following lines:

    “We have to fight to bring feminist barbarians and their hired guns to justice, to pay for their crimes. To pay for plundering men and killing of their babies, to pay for bastardizing kids, to pay for depriving grandparents of their grandchildren, for jailing innocent men.”

    That would show us you don’t just think about your child, but about millions of other kids who face the same abuse. We fell under feminist dictatorship because we are wimps, we are afraid to name our enemies and fight, fearing we may loose our kids or our freedom.

    But there is something higher than your kids, something feminist criminals can never take from you: your dignity.

    Ivan Zverkov, Niagara Falls

  3. Morris says:

    Craig, some things in common here mate. My wife went cold on me when she became pregnant, things changed and she never recovered despite my every effort to rekindle the loving relationship we used to have. After 7 years we eventually seperated, myself reluctantly for the sake of my boy if nothing else.

    However at least I had the pleasure of watching my beautiful articulate and amusing son grow up and we had (still have) a loving bond between father and son.

    My boy (now 12) lives with me most of the time and we go on adventures together (exploring new places and fishing).

    I am sorry u missed out on his growing up years, but it seems to me you should be congratulated rather than penalised. Many guys in your position would have tried to evade their reponsibilities from the very outset. You did not. Congratulations…as I say you should be rewarded.

    I fervently hope that you and your son can establish the same sort of deep relationship that I have with my son. Fishing, travelling,star gazing, playing games together, its all damn good fun and ultimately it keeps the boys active and interested and away from the harm we commonly see in todays youth.

    So good on ya Mate. If you are keen we could get together one day with the two boys and go away fishing. I got a nice boat and can accommodate, and we live close by the great lakes in Fiordland.

    Yes Ivan Zverkov, I know where u are coming from, and my son and I have personally helped other underpriveleged kids, but we can’t look after them all. I’ve done my fighting in the past on this subject but I’m too damn old and battered now and havent got the funds to continue. If I win lotto, a lot would go to underpriveleged kids.

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