Here is the news: I didn’t have a dad either
Celebrity scandal came from an unlikely source this week. BBC journalist and news presenter Justin Webb admitted that he was the son of a former BBC news reader, Peter Woods, born after Woods had an affair with Webb’s mother in the early 60s. Okay, so it’s not right up there with Jordan and Alex, but the finer detail caught my attention.
Justin Webb and Peter Woods (BBC)
Webb revealed he felt he had spent his formative years without a “proper” father. He knew who his father was, saw him on television, but at the same time was starkly aware that this man from whom he had inherited 50% of his chromosomes had a life and a family elsewhere. Apart from one brief encounter during infancy, father and son never met face to face.
While Justin Webb’s mother eventually married (and Justin took his stepfather’s surname), Webb claims to have missed something. He feels it has informed his own attitudes to fatherhood, and his revelations (coming now that his parents are dead) have been prompted by his own children asking about his past.
All this chimes very loudly with me.
I was the product of an affair too. My mother was unmarried, my father (a friend of the family) married to someone else. The difference between my story and Webb’s is that my mother never married after I was born. She brought me up with the help and support of HER mum. This was about ten years after Justin Webb was born and attitudes had not become much more enlightened (although Webb’s mother was dismissed from her job for becoming pregnant).
My father tried to deny my existence and fought shy of supporting my mum financially. She took him to court and won.
My battle was in my head, and in the playground. As a child I felt… different. Around other children and their families, at school concerts, parents evenings, sports days, I was the one with just my mum there.
It felt awkward when school work turned to the subject of what our dads did for a job. Children, being children, noticed my situation, of course. And children, being children, would ask, with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, “why haven’t you got a dad?”
“Because I haven’t,” was the usual, somewhat feeble reply.
I remember my mother giving me the same answer. I remember only one occasion asking her who my father was. When she told me I didn’t believe her.
As time went by and I got older I felt the awkwardness easing a bit. Perhaps growing older was putting some distance between me and the circumstances of my birth, diluting the essence of it. At the same time I felt mature enough to confront the gaps in my history and ask some questions.
When I was 18, I met my father for the only time I can remember. He had moved back to Canada but was over in Britain to see his sons by his marriage. He was staying with a mutual friend of my mum and we all arranged to meet in a local pub.
When we arrived, he had one of his sons in tow. His kids didn’t know about me and it was abundantly clear they weren’t about to find out. My dad barely acknowledged me all evening. Had I wanted I could have pulled the pin and blown the lid off, but I didn’t. It was all I needed to know. It closed a chapter.
Now I’m a father I wonder if my lack of a paternal influence has affected my own parenting. To be honest I think it made me a paternal blank slate. No point of reference nor embedded skills. I don’t know what works, so I work it out myself (with, of course, everything I learned from my mum).
My own boys noticed early on the lack of symmetry in the grandparenting numbers. Where was Nana’s husband? they asked. The answers have evolved, from merely, “he died,” (true, many years ago now) to, “he didn’t live with us”.
Unlike Justin Webb I don’t feel the need to explain for their benefit about the grandfather they never had. To do so would seem akin to breathing life back into him. I have no desire to do that. One point Webb made did resonate though.
He said his father was a presence in his life and a lack of presence all in one. Even though my absentee dad was not a television personality, I know what he means.
Thank you for such an honest account.
I’ve often worried about how an absent biological father will affect Little Man as he grew older.
Little Man’s father wasn’t married but denies all knowledge of his son.
Little Man is 5 now and calls my partner ‘Daddy’ and has always done so in the 2.5 years we’ve been together. It was never encouraged as such but something we all fell into. He chose it so he must feel it’s right.
Despite this, he often starts stories about his memories with ‘Before Daddy came’ and I know he remembers a time when he didn’t have a Daddy.
I know these memories will probably fade in the years to come but that is another thing that concerns me. I will at some point have to sit down and talk to him about his real father, as much as I don’t want to I know I have to give him the choice whether or not to find him.
From what I can see, your Mum (and Nan) did an incredible job bringing you up and she sounds like a wonderful woman. (Oh and you did a wonderful job figuring out this parenting lark!)
Beth
PS Sorry it wasn’t intended to be an essay.
Parts of this resonate with me and I sort of know how you feel. Totally different circumstances though (my mum died when I was 9). The sweaty palms when I knew that ‘Why don’t you have a mum?’ was on the tip of a friend’s tongue. But at least I could tell them, albeit awkwardly, where she was. I also have no benchmark when parenting. I have blocked most of my interaction with my Mum, before she was ill, out. I sometimes feel like I’m blundering through it but at the same time it’s a clean slate.
As well as a missing grandmother (my Mum) who we do talk about my children have a, living, grandfather (my husband’s dad) who they’ve never seen. He has never met them. They haven’t even questioned his existence yet. There is a family party (Great Grandma’s 90th birthday) this year and he will be there. It’s going to be interesting.
That is so interesting to read. When you don’t know someone really well, your sub-conscience fills in the blanks and you presume they are from a nuclear family of sorts.
You certainly do have a blank slate to go on, but you have probably become the very opposite of your father. You are completely immersed in your children’s lives, being a parent blogger, going to assemblies, sharing their lives and being a parent governor. He has made you the stronger Daddy that you are without trying. Of course I’m sure your Mother has more than made up for it by being strong and there for you no matter what.
Sometimes our parents failings can be the antithesis for making us better people. In fact, I strongly believe that.
You are a superstar!
Very thought provoking.
My dad was sort of an absent father to my half siblings, born over 20 years before me, and its been really sad to see the impact that has had on them.
But even for me, to have that ever present worry that maybe my dad could have disappeared and left us.
That’s really interesting and also sad. I’m sorry that your father didn’t turn out to be a better person. I grew up without any biological parents and had a similar incident when I went to the pub with my biological mother (I was raised to think she was my sister) and she introduced me to one of her work colleagues as ‘a friend’. I was heartbroken and feel really sad for you too.
I know exactly what you mean about the blank slate. I was really worried that I wouldn’t be able to parent as I hadn’t been set a good example myself but actually it’s been quite liberating. There are the odd niggles like people assuming that all women have mothers they can turn to in times of need but ultimately it’s been good and if nothing else, I have a great example of how NOT to be!
My husband too grew up largely without a father, as his parents divorced when he was 7, and his father flitted in and out of his life when he felt like it. Although it is not entirely the same as your situation, I know he too uses it as a benchmark in how not to parent. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been.
*hug*
I think attitudes have changed a lot since we were children. We were a stepfamily – my dad raised my two elder sisters who had a different dad, whom they saw occasionally but less so after he moved to Norfolk. In name, he was always Brian to them but in all other ways, he was more of a dad. We were considered fairly unusual, although I knew no different and therefore didn’t think it was odd. My parents did a fabulous job too because I don’t think any one of us felt we were hard done by or made favourites just by being different parts of the same family if that makes sense. I remember I spent my life explaining why my sisters had different surnames or used a different name when addressing my Dad.
You do a fantastic job as a father. I think it proves you don’t need a point of reference to do the job well – and as you say, you learned a lot from your mother (and presumably, your grandmother too). Maybe fathers have a slightly different approach to their interaction with children but I don’t think an absent father is necessarily a bad thing for a child. A stable home life where the child feels loved and cared for is probably more important.
Thanks for sharing your story. As adults, we don’t always consider the effect of our actions on children. But like it or not, everything we do has an effect on them, sometimes in ways we hadn’t even imagined.
Garry, it takes a lot of courage to be naked in front of the masses. I’m sure sharing this kind of story will have an effect on a lot of people. You should be proud of not only your blog and how you reach people, but also on your stable and level headed influence for your Boys. We haven’t known each other long, but I really feel that you’re one of the good guys. The Boys are lucky.
As you know my parents divorced when I was young and although I’ve always had some kind of relationship with my Dad, as a child he was always working and never attended any sporting event or show that I was in. I was the first child in our school whose parents got divorced.
For me all it did was ensure that I knew what I wanted a Dad to be for my girls. I’m glad to say that they have an awesome, hands on Dad.
Thanks for sharing x
I have just read your post with interest. I think when you were growing up it was very unusual to come from a single parent family, unless of course one of the parents had died. In fact I do not recall any of my friends not living with both their Mum & Dad.
As a child and young adult I can remember thinking how lucky I was to have a Mum & Dad who were so happy. I dreamt of having children one day and pictured my life living with the man of my dreams raising our children, growing old and being fantastic Grandparents.
I was with my partner for 3 years before we decided to start a family and I thought that I was the happiest woman in the world to have found such a catch and when we did finally conceive I was so excited.
Nothing could have prepared me though for the shock that was to come, this man that I loved and adored turned out to be the most crap father I have ever known. He was not interested in his two wonderful boys and had no time for them at all. I was devastated and with each month that past I grew to despise him! I so wanted my boys to have a Dad who would take them to the park for a kick around, swimming and all the usual stuff Dads and their Sons do, but it was not to be.
In the end are relationship fell apart, I had no respect for this man I once loved so dearly. All my hopes and dreams for my boys seemed to be in bits. He left and I have raised them on my own for the last 10 years.
He sees them sporadically, he’s never consistent and even though he lives 20 mins from our home he has gone for long periods of time without seeing them, 18 months being the longest, he never ceases to amaze me.
I wonder what affect this will have on my boys, they seem happy contented kids I have never once bad mouthed their Father, because even though I think he is a complete low life, he is after all their Dad and I do not want to influence how they feel about him. I suppose they know no different and to be honest it is a sad state of affairs but lots of their friends come from single parent families too.
Your post has given me faith that they too may turn out to be wonderful Fathers even though they have never known how a good Father should be.
Growing up I think I was one of the few children who did have a Mum and Dad. Most of my friends (this being the 80s) had either a Mom and a Step-dad, a Dad and a step-mom or a mom no dad, etc. I was the “weird” one because my parents were together. I think a lot of this had to do with me living in a highly metropolitan area in a neighborhood of kid friendly flats. I think a lot of attitudes about divorce had changed in the 80s as well about divorce and such. I do remember a few occasions when there were moms and dads with hushed tones talking about so and so’s divorce, but the kids always knew what was really going on. I remember clearly one of my friends coming up to me when I was 8 and telling me all about her mom and dad’s divorce and what a “bitch” the “other lady” was. *sigh* Kids are always listening is the lesson I learned from that.
PS- You seem to be doing a fine job at this parenting gig.
Brave post mister. I felt that there was a lot said that was not written, this is one of those subjects where we tend to have an answer for the surface even though we know that there is an abyss beneath. Absent parents create such an impression just by not being there. That ‘what if’ is almost endless. As I’ve said to you before, you come across as a wonderful dad who clearly adores his family. That comes from YOU, from the person that you intrinsically are and your boys couldn’t want for a better role model than you.
Love ya x
Thank you so much for sharing, I am a Mummy to a 3yo who does not have a father, other than a name on his birth certificate. His father decided when we split to leave his son too. This was 2 years ago and now it is starting to be a recurring worry of how will I deal with explaining it. All the ‘helpful’ people who keep telling me, just reply to each question appropriately to his age, just give enough details to satisfy that question etc. But I am still looking for how you explain that “actually your dad couldn’t be arsed enough to want to see you” into pre-schooler terms without blatantly lying.
It is reassuring to read though that it does get easier, that the questions by others get easier or more comfortable to answer. I would say it is very unlikely for us that there will be a step-dad or a new partner for me (just not on my radar for life at the moment) so it does make me sad that he doesn’t have that.
But on the positive he has a very happy home filled with love, laughter and learning. so I am hoping that will be enough
Thank you again
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Very interesting post *hugs* I’m at a loss of what to say really other than you seem to be doing a bloody fantastic job!
I found this v moving to read. Different circumstances but my family setup was far from conventional too. Please don’t let it knock your confidence as a father. The point is that you care enough to think about it and put your all into parenting. Your children cannot ask for more.
Great post; brillaint that you can be so open about it. Someone very close to me was raised by her Step-Dad, a great bloke, after her biological Dad, not a great bloke, had done a runner. I think she’s always felt that she was better off for it.
If you don’t mind my saying so, for a bloke you seem unusually empathic & sensitive – while still being ‘blokey’. Maybe it’s due to being raised by just a Mum? Just a thought