Delroy with his children
From Acrimony to Friendship: When Ex-spouses Decide To “Get Along” For The Sake of the Kids
I am the ex-wife of an amazing “Black Daddy” and I would like to tell you what makes him so amazing.
When I first met Delroy Wedderburn, aka Tony, he was already the father of 4 year-old Nicole who was his pride and joy. When I met her, I instantly fell in love with her and when Tony and I married I resolved to be the best stepmom that I could be.
When our own two daughters came along, Tony was hands-on and always involved. He adored his children and showered them with love. Unfortunately, our relationship didn’t survive, but even though we went through a period of acrimony, his commitment and dedication to his girls never waned. He continued to visit them regularly and I could always count on him to help out when needed with the girls.
I vividly recall one day asking him to look after the girls while I was out. When I returned home, I found Daddy and his daughter Michelle, sitting on the couch watching TV with their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen.
Following our divorce, once custody and access details were worked out, Tony faithfully picked up his girls every weekend to spend time with them. On top of that, Tony never missed a support payment and was always available for me to talk to if issues arose with the girls. Even when he went back to school, he never missed a weekend and sought assistance from his mom to help him look after them.
Then a major crisis affected our girls and this became a defining time in our lives. It made us realize that even though we couldn’t be together, we still had two daughters to raise and we needed to get on the same page in order to do so properly. We all came together and dealt with the crisis as a family…even though he was now married to someone else.
Then, when our oldest daughter started misbehaving, we agreed that she would live with him. In the years that followed, I watched my daughter blossom under the care of Tony and his new wife, Maxine. Today, she is a beautiful 23 year-old woman, well-adjusted and polite.
He helped me raise them, discipline them and always backed me up when problems arose. Our girls always knew that if they misbehaved, my first phone call would be to Dad…and they dreaded it.
They knew they could never play the two of us against one another. It kept them in line and, together, we raised two fine young ladies. I thank God every day for my ex-husband and the role he played in helping me to raise the girls.
Today, I count him as one of my dearest friends. I credit him with turning our oldest daughter around and I thank him for stepping up and taking her in when trouble started brewing. As a result, we were able to nip the situation in the bud and stop it from turning into a festering wound of irreversible bad behaviour.
Tony is proof that, if divorced or separated parents are able to put their differences aside and focus their energy on working together to raise their children, there is no reason why kids can’t grow up to be mature, healthy, well-adjusted individuals.
Tony and Maxine have two more children and all of our kids have a great relationship. I respect his new wife and am grateful to her for the role she played in helping to raise our daughter.
When we celebrate special moments in the lives of the children, all of us attend together in a show of support. We love not only our own two kids but also each other’s children with our new spouses. “Uncle Tony” has even attended my 11 year-old son, Dillon’s soccer games.
Our children all enjoy spending time together and it’s all because Tony has set the example and standard for what it means to “get along” for the sake of the children.
I wanted to write this story to show that, in this day and age where divorce, separation, single parents and blended families are commonplace, Dads can still play a vital and effective role in their children’s lives. All they have to do is resolve to put their differences aside, be the best Dad they can be and make the time they spend with their kids count for something.
And when this is done, the children whom they co-parent stand a much better chance of growing up to become emotionally healthy and successful individuals.
l-r: Desiray Simone, Celina, Candice Rayne, Vidal and Johnny
By Celina Rayonne Caesar-Chavannes
For Vidal Chavannes, fatherhood has been a journey. We met thirteen years ago and have been married for twelve and a half years (…you do the math!). Yes, it was love at first sight. And with love at first sight, we immediately wanted to start a family. Some who were paying very close attention would say that we were a little too immediate, but that is for a different sort of article.
Desiray Simone was our first child. Of course, having her came with a lot of trepidation and excitement; however, we knew that we were partners! With that said, what could possibly go wrong?
Well…he tried to stay up with her when she woke in the middle of the night to let me sleep, but after the one time that she rolled out of his arms and down on to the floor (nobody was hurt!) – while he snored – he and I quickly rethought that philosophy.
With Candice Rayne, our second, he was far more confident in his abilities to hold her without incident, (lest I bring up the time when he dropped her first birthday cake…on her head). He pampered and bathed her like a pro. In fact, he doted on her so much that Candice seems to be the kind of child that will not leave home until she is forty – if at all – and Vidal wouldn’t have it any other way.
Specific to his two angels, Vidal makes sure to tell them how beautiful they are every day. He sends flowers to their school with a “Thank you for being the best kid” message and teddy bears on Valentine’s Day and tucks them in every night before they go to sleep. He wants to make sure that the first “fool who tells them they’re pretty” doesn’t completely have them “head over heels”, as he so eloquently puts it.
With all of these ladies around, Vidal quickly found himself outnumbered and to cope, he perfected the art of saying ‘no’. The girls go to him first; he says ‘NO’. They then come to me…and I make the final determination. So for many years, Vidal was significantly outvoted.
Then came…Johnny.
When Vidal Jr (aka “Johnny”), our third, was born, the playing field was levelled a bit. Johnny has certainly changed the dynamics of the house (those with male children will know what I am saying). Though he is only three, I see how important his father is in shaping his behaviour, particularly towards the girls in his life. I look forward to the man Johnny will become because of the man he will pattern himself after.
It has been interesting to watch Vidal transition between the three children who differ greatly in personality and interests, and who therefore need to be parented differently. What has been consistent throughout the years is his unwavering love of his “little people” as he calls them.
Vidal brings to our family stability, patience, and an undying commitment to laughter. He is a wonderful life partner whom I love and who I know loves me, Desiray, Candice and Johnny immensely. And we love him very much.
Plus, I think he is sexy…..
Can I say that? Well, I just did…Love you babe!
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Jacinda and Dad
By Jacinda Liburd
As a child, he was my hero; as a teenager, my teacher; and as a woman, he is my very best friend.
My father and I have always had a very special relationship that has been built on love, understanding and respect.
When I about four years old, I was terrified of sleeping alone. Petrified, really. No matter how many times I was sent back to my room, nothing and no one could ever make me stay there. I would lie in my bed and wait until I heard complete silence. Then I’d slide out of my bed, get on all fours and slowly creep into my parents’ room. And I did this all night long.
My mom, ever the gentle but firm disciplinarian, insisted that it was important for me to learn to sleep alone. My Dad? Not so much.
One night, on my way into their bedroom, I discovered something that soothed my soul so completely that I can still remember the exact moment. My dad, who normally slept all the way at the end of the bed, had left a little room on the edge. I wasn’t sure if it was accidental or deliberate, but when I slid into that space and I felt his arm reach around and hold me so that I didn’t fall, I loved him more than words could explain.
At about age seven, I decided to wash my cabbage patch doll. And, to my horror, the arms fell off!
I was, in a word…devastated.
I came into our garage, bawling loudly. In between sobs, I told my dad that I had ruined my best friend. My dad looked at me, took my doll, squeezed out all of the water, got some matching thread and a needle and sewed her back together.
Always, my hero.
To say that my father remained a hands-on father from childhood right through to young adulthood is a bit of an understatement. He taught me how to fly a kite, ride my bicycle, ice skate, drive a car, fix my car, and how to be and stay mentally tough. He drove me to tutoring classes, piano lessons, track meets, basketball games, and modeling assignments.
He came on class trips, dropped off forgotten lunches and forgotten projects, attended parent-teacher meetings, moved me in and out of dormitories, supported my academic achievements every step of the way and was always there to give me a dollar or two (…or three or four!) when I needed it. He taught me everything he knew and then some.
For a better teacher, I could have never asked.
Now that I am an adult, my relationship with my father has changed a lot. I don’t see him as often and I don’t need him in the ways that I once did as a child. But through his love, compassion, understanding, and care, my father has given me the gift of confidence, kindness and an uncanny ability to be true to myself.
I am well-rounded, independent and I tend to surprise people with my many hidden talents. But when I need someone with whom I can reason out life, I know just where I can turn.
He’s always there.
None of us get to choose our parents. That is a decision made solely by God.
But if I were given the choice of any man in the world to be my father, for so many more reasons than I can write, I would choose my father…all over again.
Jacinda Liburd is an actress, teacher, former model and licensed paralegal who strongly believes in the power of education. She loves her family, friends, community and country dearly. She works to encourage young women to appreciate the power of beauty and brains. And her love for her father springs eternal.
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By Evans Johnson
“My Dad is better than your Dad!” is the taunt I remember kids singing on the schoolyard. I was never one to sing this annoying little ditty, but if I knew then what I know now about my Father, I would have been the singing it the loudest during recess. Simply put, my Father is amazing: a strong, serious, hard-working, loving, God-fearing, Black Man. A cabinet-maker by trade, my Father showed me sacrifice, perseverance, commitment to life, family and the beautiful nature of silent love.
He supports me in all of my endeavors, even though he doesn’t understand why I have to live on the other side of the country to work. He cries every time I leave home to chase and live my dream. It’s the most beautiful and heart-breaking thing. But with every teardrop, I know he loves me and will continue to support me.
His support is undying. He let me and my siblings grow into the people God intended us to be. No matter what I need, I can go to my Dad. He allowed us to fly free as children. He granted us the freedom to climb trees, build sand castles, ice skate, play basketball, soccer, volleyball, t-ball, be girl/boy scouts and dance until it was time to study our books.
Dad never told us ‘No’ too often; instead, he used the word at the right times and reminded us constantly, “If you can’t hear, you must feel!” I readily admit that this is what kept me flying straight and in the light!
Every Sunday, he drove us to Sunday school and took us to McDonald’s on Friday for dinner as a treat. For any kid, that was the greatest treat in the world. He also gave us weekly allowance. Dad explained that it was given so that we wouldn’t have the desire to steal and he always made sure that we had it…even when he was laid off.
All the way through university, he made sure that my books and tuition were paid for. He even bought me a car in order to cut the one-way hour and fifteen minute bus ride in half.
Some people say, “I come from money”, but I say, “I come from ‘enough’ money”. Enough to buy a loaf of bread, milk, butter…enough to keep the heat on, the water running and a roof over our heads. No matter what the situation Dad always made sure that we had enough.
And he never did it alone – he had Mom and she’s a strong, smart, beautiful woman. So, whether he chose her or she chose him, I celebrate my Dad for standing, neither in front nor behind, but beside my Mom for forty-one years. Watching my Dad love my Mom unconditionally, honestly and happily is the greatest gift I could ask for.
For this and all the things said before I pay tribute to the greatest man I know, Calvin Hugh Johnson.
Evans Natalie Johnson is a Toronto-born actress who currently lives in Vancouver, British Columbia. Some of her credits include Smallville, He Loves Me starring Heather Locklear, ‘da Kink in My Hair, Dead Rising 2 and The Rise of the Planet of the Apes which will be released in theatres worldwide August 5th. Currently, Evans Johnson is hard at work organizing a breast cancer campaign she launched on June 1st called ‘Paint Yourself Pink’. If you’d like to support her campaign ‘like’ the page on Facebook and follow @PaintYourself on Twitter.
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Naki (in hat) with her brother, Daddy and Mommy in High Park
By Naki Osutei
As we neared Father’s Day 2011, I could not help but take stock of the fact that so many people I know are estranged from, or have very strained relationships with, their fathers. While, like most adults, my relationship with Dad has had its share of difficulties (we’re all human, after all), the very fact that I can call on my Dad for advice, support and last-minute help makes me very fortunate indeed.
In addition to the very foundational lessons (i.e. love God, love family and love self), I want to highlight three lessons my Daddy has shared with me in different ways over the years.
Lesson #1 – I’ll teach you how…mostly so you don’t destroy it.
Both of my parents love music and incidentally, our next door neighbour in the high-rise tower I grew up in did, too. He was a nightclub DJ, originally from Germany and spent hours practicing his sets. Upon discovering a three year-old Naki dancing in front of his door, he decided to make mix tapes and LP suggestions for my parents. Naturally, this led to the purchase of a TeleFunken sound system (cutting-edge technology at the time).
My dad took the time to teach me how to put the needle on the record, knowing that I would be curious and want to do this anyway. Not only did this create a novelty for guests who would visit and share their amazement at the sight of a four year-old music selector, but it meant that he didn’t have to worry that I would scratch records or tear apart cassettes out of an unmanaged curiosity.
Complemented by trips to the Science Centre, High Park, local farms and other sites of learning, that early lesson helped me to be unafraid of exploring the unknown. As a result, both my brother and I are curious, love to explore how things work and challenge ourselves to ‘figure it out’.
Lesson #2 – Yes, who you know is important.
My dad tells the story of coming to Canada in 1979 and it is marked with many of the challenges you hear in the stories of immigrants. What has always intrigued me is the role his network played in helping him apply to come to Canada. It was the senior leaders he met through his work on student councils in Ghana who introduced him to the people who could help along in his journey to apply to come to Canada.
I’ve held that lesson close to me as I’ve traversed through my educational and professional careers. When I’ve had to make decisions about jobs to take or courses to pursue, my Dad has reminded me to look for new, diverse, challenging networks in which to invest – they are a ‘currency’ of their own.
Lesson #3 – We [the family] struggle and celebrate together.
We grew up with the expectation that you offer to do anything you can to help your family members and you mark even the smallest victories with celebration. Examples go back decades and continue to this day.
Though I knew nothing about Humanities at the time, at the age of seven, my small, nimble hands were able to more quickly type my Dad’s essays than his were. Among her myriad examples of sacrifice, my Mom, without hesitation, would empty her purse to ensure my brother and I had lunch money before we left for school.
My dad took an indefinite leave of absence to be at the hospital with me round the clock when I fell seriously ill. Throughout his high school years, my brother made himself available to edit my undergraduate essays and continues to do that for me to this day. In addition to being there in hard times, we’ve also taken the time to mark the victories in life as well. The Mandarin Restaurant photo fridge magnets are evidence of that.
Certainly, there are many other lessons Dad has shared with me, but these seem to be the ones that resonate most with me at this point in my life.
Naki Osutei is the VP, Strategy at the Greater Toronto CivicAction Alliance and founding director of CivicAction’s Emerging Leaders Network, a network of almost 400 rising leaders and co-founder of DiverseCity Fellows, a participant-driven leadership development program.
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By Tendisai Cromwell
The youth-based initiative, Young & Potential Fathers (YPF) is promising and ambitious in addressing one of the most pressing issues affecting the black community today: absentee fathers and poor parenting skills. Made possible by funding from the Youth Challenge Fund, YPF seeks to provide the much needed parental support to young and potential fathers with particular emphasis on Caribbean and African-Canadian communities. Adelin Brunal, Director of YPF explains that the afrocentric approach is important, as the services are delivered more effectively when “in a way that speaks to their identity”.
The initiative is based on the academic efforts of Noah Boakye-Yadiom who, through his Master’s research work on father involvement in healthy child development, recommended the establishment of a space for young fathers, fathers-to-be, and their children.
In placing spaces in two priority neighbourhoods, one of which recently opened in west Toronto, this initiative will have increasing reach to those that may need the support the most. Brunal says that YPF is welcomed by the community and the overwhelming sentiment is that an initiative of this nature is long overdue. He would like the space to be considered “a home away from home,” explaining that young fathers should make use of all the resources YPF can provide for them.
YPF is holistic in its approach offering programs such as father and child drumming, nutritional cooking, movie nights, family and father drop-in time, and a multitude of other workshops and forums. “[These services are] intended to reconnect father with child and to further that bond” says Brunal. He emphasized the need to give the youth “as much knowledge as possible to be able to play the role of father, the role of men…but also beloved”. Brunal believes that YPF will assist young men to “[become] as strong as possible as individuals in these various roles that are all intertwined.”
Brunal envisions YPF becoming tomorrow what the YMCA is today, an institution serving various communities not only in the city, but as well nationally and continent wide.
The official YPF launch will be held Tuesday June 21 at their newly opened space located in Toronto at 1901 Weston Rd, Unit B. The YPF website is currently under maintenance, however the YPF Facebook group is regularly updated with events, news and programming information.
Photos courtesy of Young & Potential Fathers
Tendisai Cromwell is a freelance writer and editorial intern for swaymag.ca.
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Christmas is around the corner and I am feeling the ‘holiday blues’. I have so much stress on my brain right now it isn’t even funny, because my E.I. (Employment Insurance) just ran out. It feels like déjà vu because last Christmas I got laid off from my job, so unfortunately this marks my one year anniversary of being unemployed.
What does it feel like to be unemployed for a year? Well, to be honest, I feel like I am pretty low in terms of self-esteem. I have been looking for work for the last year; however, with some college under my belt, I don’t feel like I am what employers are looking for. When I do go for job interviews, nine times out of ten it’s at some dive where they want me to go door-to-door to peddle gas or sell something to people that they don’t need. I have tried employment agencies, but it seems that the only jobs they have for men like me are factory jobs.
Don’t get me wrong – I am not afraid of working, but my experience working in a factory setting has been, shall we say, less than desirable. I have had bosses who treat their employees like garbage, because they are usually working with people who are new immigrants and don’t know much better (in terms of what should be expected in a proper working environment).
On the home front, it has been extremely stressful. My wife is left with to manage the majority of the bills, on top of making sure that the kids (2 girls) have a good Christmas. I know she loves me; however, I can’t help but feel ashamed and wonder if she would be better off without me.
To put it bluntly, I don’t feel like a man.
I am not providing and I don’t feel like a role model to my kids. I feel like I don’t want them to grow up seeing me in this position and feeling that it’s okay for me not to be working. I know my mother-in-law must be thinking I wish this deadbeat didn’t marry my daughter.
My wife and I have been married for a 5 years and I can now understand why they say the number one reason for divorce is due to money worries. With money being tight this last year, it should come as no surprise that we have had many arguments related to finances.
My self-esteem has been taking a beating, and not because of what anyone says, but because of my expectation of what I think my role as the man of the house should be. I should be in a position to build a nest; my wife shouldn’t be working and bringing in all the bacon! And I am pretty sure that my neighbors and the people at my kids’ daycare think I am a bum. When I go to pick them up (wearing my jogging suits), I wonder if they ever think to themselves, does this guy work?
And then there’s the cheating.
You might ask yourself, cheating? Why is this dude cheating? Well, it’s quite simple: you see, because my self-esteem was so low, I looked for gratification and pleasure whenever and wherever I could find it. It started with me being home and in the dark. I would go onto porn sites and start to masturbate and that quickly grew into an insatiable appetite for sex that I couldn’t ignore. This then translated into cheating, because I had so much time on my hands and my wife, after working long hours, couldn’t be the sex slave that I craved. And a part of me felt that my wife was falling out of love with me or maybe not finding me as attractive because I was unemployed. I found sex elsewhere, and this was the kind of sex I was looking for (the rough sex that I saw on porn).
This was causing a major issue in the marriage and my mind because I was coming home at 4 a.m. from seeing one of my mistresses and the cheating – not surprisingly – wasn’t making me feel happy. Depression then set in and I have been in and out of depression for the last few months. I seek escape through smoking weed and drinking, which have sunk me deeper into a place of despair and anger.
But a new year is almost here! I am keeping my faith alive that 2011 will be a better one, but as of now, I am just not sure what lies ahead.
About the Author
The author wanted to remain anonymous for his own reasons (and we respect that), but doesn’t mind to share that he is a father of 2 young girls, he resides in Montreal, Quebec. He is like many men that we know going through their own challenges due to the recession, Black Daddies Club is grateful for his sincere words and is sending him positive vibes to get though this rough period in his life.
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Victor with his kids at a Toronto FC game for a BDC Daddies and Me event.
Dr. Molefi Asante defines Africentricity as “a mode of thought and action in which the centrality of African interests, values, and perspectives predominate. In regards to theory, it is the placing of African people in the centre of any analysis of African phenomena.” As a husband and father to three beautiful children, I am truly blessed to be able to play such an important role in helping to shape their lives in this challenging and complex world. I recently wrote the following words in my daily planner:
“Ancestral accountability is the premise of all parental and social responsibility for an African-Canadian Father. For me, the nurturing of and caring for healthy children begins with the full understanding and acceptance of the implications of a healthy and a balanced family that is contributing to the overall health of the African-Canadian community.”
Successful early childhood development can positively transform communities, cities and countries. African-Canadian fathers in Toronto remain in a constant state of war with the stereotypical generalizations associated with black fathers, such as misnomers like ‘baby daddies’, as well as the negative media portrayal of black fathers as neglectful and irresponsible. However – and in spite of the inevitable attacks on our ability to father our children – the call of black fatherhood must transcend personal ambitions and remain rooted in the notion that our future leaders (the children) must be prepared and courageous….
There are many social factors that contribute to family problems and dysfunctional fatherhood in our community, such as racism against African-Canadian men; unemployment; shattered self-image; poor community support structures for men; damaging media stereotypes; the dearth of positive, Black male role models; the disintegration of the values system that sustained us in Africa; and a lack of personal responsibility by some Black men. Yet, despite these and other considerable challenges, there are still many inspiring and persistent examples of healthy, balanced, responsible fatherhood all across the African-Canadian community.
As a 27-year-old father of three children, I often reminisce on my lessons.
My father taught me – among many other important life lessons – to be early if you can’t be on time, the correct way to treat a woman and to have a relentless work ethic. My Ancestors continue to inspire me because of their resilience and valor. How can I articulate these principles to my children if I am absent? The plight of the African-Canadian community can be critically analyzed from multiple perspectives related to social and systemic barriers, colonization, and misrepresentation through the electronic and print media. For all these reasons and more, the struggle to redeem black fatherhood must be waged on multiple fronts.
Victor with his wife
African-Canadian fathers must ensure that they have the tools and supports to be healthy and culturally competent to raise their children. I believe that a strong family matrix and good support system, a sound knowledge of self and a healthy values-based approach form the foundation of effective fatherhood. The positive, productive and respectful relationship with the African woman is at the core of African-centered fatherhood. An African-centered father must remain the prime example of how to reflect and reciprocate the leadership of African women. The value system that children should be exposed to must highlight the importance of sharing, respect for elders, love of learning, commitment to excellence in everything, an African worldview, a healthy African identity and self-image, and a positive, winning mentality.
Toronto is crying out for the African-Canadian father to stand up and not only announce but to loudly (and unapologetically) declare our presence and our ability to support and assist the marginalized and under-served communities throughout our great city. A true African-centered father knows that the children in his home are not the only children he must raise. The young man getting on the TTC with his hat covering his eyes might need mentoring and support. The boy crossing the street, walking with no sense of purpose, might need some guidance. The child standing next to you in the lobby of your apartment complex might also be in need of love. There are currently many services, programs and initiatives that support the healthy development of African fathers, such as the Black Daddies Club, the Yensumo Youth and Community Development’s Rites of Passage process, the Lions Circle, the More than a Haircut Barbershop program and many more. Through these and other such organizations, we can fully embrace our responsibilities as men and fathers.
Our social and moral obligation to all our children is embodied in the African Proverb: “If you want to go fast, go alone; but if you want to go far, go together”. As African-centered fathers, we must create a new cultural framework of peer and communal accountability to ensure that no child is left behind.
Victor Beausoleil is devoted husband and a father of three. Victor is known in throughout Toronto as a mentor to many and personifies the true meaning of leadership in the black community. Victor is also a member of the Black Daddies Club
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Brandon's sons. From left to right Tristan (8), Elijah (4), Julian (6)
I am a part of the new generation of fathers who were raised by single mothers. I recently had the opportunity to attend the book launch party of one of my mentors, Dalton Higgins, where he unveiled his newest literary offering, entitled FATHERHOOD 4.0. At this event, I heard fathers sharing their stories as parents.
However, a common theme uniting the comments made by some of these men were that they were raised by their mums, and I couldn’t help but wonder if an event like this (book launch) would have been as successful if the book came out around my father’s or grandfather’s generation. Would the notion of the ‘stay-at-home dad’ be held in the same positive light that it is today or would that father be seen as ‘wutless (less of a man)’ for not going out and bringing home the bacon.
Over the past three years, I have spent many hours working with black fathers in the Toronto community and I have found that a lot of fathers weren’t raised by their fathers. Because of that, they felt that they had to overcompensate when it came to parenting their own children. It is of paramount importance to these fathers that they are present in the lives of their children…and not just for the big moments (like first day of school, weddings, etc.), but also for the small moments (diaper changes at 2a.m., rubbing their son’s/ daughter’s back after a nightmare, reading bedtime stories).
These fathers of the new generation are more hands-on when it comes to parenting than their fathers and grandfathers ever were. And, in my humble opinion, that’s a step in the right direction.
"Daddies and Me" event at Art gallery of Ontario(AGO), Feb 2010
I was recently speaking to another ‘New Age’ dad, when this question was broached: Why is it that although many of our fathers and grandfathers grew up with their fathers in the home, they still didn’t see the importance of sticking around to be fathers to their children?
I was born in Jamaica in the late 70’s and I know that for my own father, it wasn’t seen as culturally or socially important for him to be there on a consistent basis. As long as the school fees were paid and I had books and a school uniform for September, his work as a father was done. I felt that this was the extent of his parenting.
Don’t get me wrong – my dad took me and my brothers and sisters out to Hillshire Beach every now and then (usually on a Sunday afternoon) and boy, did we look forward to those outings! And no matter how infrequent those outings were, they were always extra special. When I think of my dad, those are the memories that come to mind.
Fast forward some twenty-odd years and I have my own kids. I can’t help but wonder: what will be their memories of their father?
Black Business Professional association (BBPA) Community Award Ceremony, BDC received community excellence award
Brandon Hay, founder and Executive Director of Black Daddies Club; Brandon is a Husband, Father of 3 boys (Tristan, Julian and Elijah).
“I believe in the importance of community voice, hence why Black Daddies Club article in Sway magazine came about, our black fathers need a place where we can speak on some of the stuff that is bottled within and this is a great medium, we are working on some great ideas for 2011, keep posted”-Brandon Hay
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The author with his firstborn Sun, Amari
“Oh sh*t! Oh sh*t! Oh sh*t!”
These were the first words that ran through my mind as I placed my palm on the wet spot in the bed and realized that it definitely was not “an accident.”
Your mother had assumed that her slumber had been rudely interrupted by an ill-timed bout of incontinence. I, however, struggled to remain calm, because I was certain that we were beginning labour and the wet spot was the first indication that you were on the way. I glanced at my watch. It was 3:30 a.m. and I had just come to bed to catch up on some much-needed sleep – sleep which I now suspected would not be enjoyed anytime soon!
Period-like cramps followed the discovery of the (now infamous) wet spot. These cramps grew steadily in strength until your mother needed firm pressure applied to the small of her back in order to deal with the growing discomfort. Members of both of our families had journeyed to Toronto to witness the birth, but I decided against waking them at this early stage. Based upon my understanding of the stages of labour, I concluded that we had plenty of time, so I resolved to start making calls only when things really started to roll.
The level of discomfort grew so rapidly that it became apparent that this labour would not be a long, drawn-out affair. The force of the contractions often rendered your mother speechless and, as she breathed through each one, I was feverishly pressing the heels of my palms into her lower back in an effort to relieve at least some of her pain.
I called our midwife, Nicole Bennett, at around 6 a.m. and, after listening to your mother experiencing a contraction, she decided to come over right away. When she arrived, she checked your mother`s cervix, which had dilated to between four and five centimeters. Her inspection also revealed that you had excreted meconium into the amniotic fluid. Nicole felt that this situation warranted hospitalization and made the decision to move the birth location from home to Scarborough Grace Hospital. This hospital permitted the midwife to maintain her status as primary care provider during those times when a potential complication necessitated transfer.
We had visited Scarborough Grace with our midwife several weeks before and, although a hospital birth was not our first or second choice, we were nonetheless comforted by the sight of the Jacuzzi and shower, the spacious rooms and the noticeable lack of intrusive gadgetry in the maternity wing.
We arrived at the hospital shortly after 7 a.m. and were quickly ushered into room 4315. Our family members (my mother, your mother`s parents and your mother`s cousin, Nicole Stovell) were led to the lounge area. Denise Simon, our heaven-sent doula, arrived shortly afterward and immediately began talking your mother through her breathing and massaging her lower back {*for those who don’t know, a doula basically ‘mothers’ the mother*}. Her presence and calming self–assuredness allowed me to fully experience the birth without the additional responsibility of having to ‘coach’ your mother through labour.
Watching your mother courageously grappling with the inevitable pain of childbirth was at times overwhelming. I felt so helpless, in that I was unable to take away her hurt. I had to remind myself that you two were working together and that pain was an unavoidable part of this process.
The labour was progressing so quickly that there was literally no time to enter the Jacuzzi. Your mother was sorely disappointed, because she was really looking forward to a relaxing soak!
After Nicole moved the cervical lip out of the way (it had become swollen as a result of the pressure being applied by your head), she gave the ‘OK’ for your mother to start pushing – which she was only too willing to do. She positioned herself on her hands and knees and gave herself over to the explosive uterine contractions that would ultimately deliver you into our loving embrace.
I saw your head begin to crown. That was truly a surreal moment – I still couldn’t fully believe that I was going to be a father. Overcome with excitement, I rushed out of the birthing room, clad only in a pair of swim trunks, to tell the rest of the family of the miraculous events taking place just a few yards away. I returned to the room – having been chastised by the nursing staff for my semi-naked display – and shortly thereafter your head emerged. Your body, slick with vernix, soon followed.
…And unto us a child was born!
It was 10:12 am on Friday, the 28th of May, 2004 and it was a beautiful, sun-drenched morning. I was given the honour of cutting your umbilical cord. I remember thinking that it resembled electrical wiring encased in transparent rubber tubing. Looking further ‘south,’ I exclaimed excitedly, “It’s a boy! We got a boy!”
While your mother and I recovered from the physical and mental exertion of the past six hours, the midwives conducted some unobtrusive examinations to ensure that you and mom were healthy. Denise dressed you and then gave you to your mother. She was so collected, attentive and calm – she fell right into the mother role as if it were already so familiar to her.
And then I held you in my arms for the first time.
What was that like…..The world around us fell away; Time itself seemed to stand still in solemn recognition of this sacred event. I wish that I could find the words to describe the emotions that shook me to my core on the day that you were born…but honestly, no such words yet exist. All I can say is that I loved you in a way that defies description and can only be understood by those fortunate enough to have felt love of this depth and intensity for themselves.
In the midst of this eternal moment of first contact, it suddenly dawned on me that, as your father, I would be your first and most enduring example of manhood. Your ability to wrest compassion, joy and love from the often-unyielding granite of the everyday would be largely dependent upon what you learn from the way that I live my life. An awesome and daunting task…made doubly so because of my own history as the son of an absent father. I found myself asking, Can I do this? Can I really be a father to this child?
As if sensing my trepidation, you squeezed my pinky finger reassuringly. “Of course you can,” you seemed to be saying, “or else I would not have chosen you as my daddy.”
“Thank you,” I whispered as the tears filled my eyes. “Thank you.”
Colwyn Burchall, Jr. is the author of two books, Look for Me in the Whirlwind: A Story of Marcus Garvey and Freedom’s Flames: Slavery in Bermuda and the True Story of Sally Bassett. He is currently working on his third children’s book, entitled FreedomSong, tentatively scheduled for publication in 2011. Your thoughts and comments are welcomed: [email protected]
Colwyn Burchall, Jr. Author and Black Daddies Club member
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