So many people come to me overwhelmed with the stress of life, competing responsibilities, losing intimacy and erotic connection due to the complexity of life. Parenting children, work, managing finances, extended family, having a meaningful social life, getting to the gym, and so on and so on and…
Nowadays, it is not uncommon to see children of color with parents of different ethnicity. It is more acceptable than it was back in the 1970’s. You see it in different television shows, big movie cinema and in commercials. I became a single parent to two beautiful biracial children in the 1990’s.
Jill and Don wanted to explore alternative dispute divorce options as they believed that their 7- year marriage was irretrievably broken. Arriving at this painful decision was all the more poignant for this young couple since they had a one-year old son.
Mother’s Day. Father’s Day. Halloween. Christmas. Then add all those little holidays and milestones you didn’t even know about like Olivia’s 6 month birthday. You can’t escape it: the bottomless pit of children’s pictures on social media. Many people secretly moan and groan but for me and my wife – two years in to infertility treatments – it’s feels like a digital snowball to the face.
The day before my second son was born I sat in my hospital room, a place I had called home for nearly a week due to strict bed rest orders, and cried because I knew what it meant to have to share my child with the world. Tomorrow he would no longer be just mine. I would no longer be the only one who could feel him move and squirm and kick. I would no longer be the only one who knew him, really knew him. He would be part of the world and the world was a scary place…