Navigating a custody battle as a devoted father is emotionally and mentally exhausting, and today, sitting silently in that family courtroom, I felt the full weight of it.
The judge looked up from a binder bursting with paperwork, motions, hearings, and court orders and said, “I’ve never seen this many court orders for one child.”
I sat there stunned. Neither had I.
Because this wasn’t supposed to be our story.
I didn’t think it would come to this: full custody battles, restricted visitation, and child support demands.
All layered on top of everything I already provide. And yet, she still wants more.
But I’m not trying to dodge responsibility. I’m fighting to be a father, to stay a father. I’m fighting for the right to be present without needing a third party to approve my involvement, without waiting for someone else to decide I’ve “earned” a weekend.
I don’t want conflict. I want a connection.
I want to watch my son grow up. I want to know what makes him laugh now, what he’s into these days.
Is it still trucks? Dinosaurs? Something new? I want to know when he’s sick, when he’s happy. I want to be the one who picks him up from school, just because I can.
But right now, every interaction feels like a transaction. A performance. One misstep, and there’s another motion filed. Another page added to that growing stack of court documents.
The saddest part? He’s just a kid. A baby, really.
And all this back-and-forth, this courtroom tension and legal maneuvering’s not love. It’s not parenting. It’s control.
So here I am, feeling like I’m on trial just for wanting to be a present father. And I can’t help but wonder: how many dads give up because of this?
I won’t.
But still… I ask myself every day: How did it get to this?