From Resistance to Release: Learning to Pass the Baton
I listened to my 14-year-old son's octaves fluctuate between medium to deep octaves as he recollected what he needed for school that morning. He began to list each item out loud. I need my keys, textbook, and gym clothes. I watched as his eyes zoomed in on each spot in his room and then on his book bag, where each item lay somewhat neatly, I assumed. It reminded me of what his father would do when he slept at my apartment before he left every morning. It made me smile and brought peace to my heart as I fully accepted that this was no longer my leg of the race with my son. A change of the baton that I was not looking forward to for many years. But, God had the last laugh as that would be my first dance with walking obediently in faith.
As some of you may know, if you've been following me on my Instagram account, you know my son went to live with his father a year and a half ago. It was the hardest thing I have had to do my whole life, but I did it in obedience. I am still working through the emotions of that decision and everything that has followed the monumental life change.
To understand why this transition was so difficult for me, I need to share where my perspective on parenting came from. I come from a single-parent family. My dad was not in my life for all of my childhood. I knew of him; he popped up once in a blue moon as a sign of life. This was okay because I had all the family I needed, with my mother, grandmother, tias, and uncles playing the role of dad when needed. Plus, I had a stepdad who did a good job with the knowledge he had, even when he and my mother divorced. With that said, never ever in my wildest dreams did I think I would have to share my son with his dad if we were to get a divorce. Based on my life, moms were full-time, and dads were part-time, if even present. Imagine my shock when my son started commenting he didn't like flying, his dad doesn't get enough time with him, and the one that danced on my nerves like no other, a boy needs his father.
If I am honest, I told myself that my son living with his dad would be over my dead body— dramatic, I know. I realize that this thought existed because of my upbringing. I remember conversations with my mother and tia telling me I do not need a dad; I have them. A very thoughtful way of letting me know that I am missing nothing. There was a large amount of missing dads in my community. All of my close friends were children of single mothers and nonexistent fathers. And honestly, I was looking at the worst parts of my ex-husband. Everything built the foundation for my answer, “Hell No.”
One of the reasons I fell in love with my ex-husband was because I knew he was loyal to the things he truly loved. I did not want my son to have the experience of a nonexistent father. When our son was born, I could see the love in his eyes and the heartbreak at every airport exchange. However, during our separation and divorce, my anger did not let me see his love for our son. This is why I always tell my moms that I coach through this transition to remember that just as you love your child, so does your ex.
When my husband and I decided to divorce, I expected to walk the same journey that my mother walked. The story I created was that my ex-husband would disappear into a grey abyss of false promises and disappearing acts, and I would be the single mother who taped my son's heart up and took on the burden of parenting for two. This is not what happened. My ex-husband became a very active participant in G's life. Something that I hated when he and I were going through the downs of divorce, but now have grown to appreciate.
There is something beautiful about the years that follow divorce. The time allows one to process and heal the anger, resentment and hurt from separation and divorce, ultimately allowing us to see the What Is clearly. The What Is in this situation is that my son is thriving with his father. He has become aware of and kept up with his responsibilities since his transition. At his father's house, with younger siblings, he's learning to share the bathroom, listen to his siblings' problems, and contribute to a household where everyone has responsibilities.
I've noticed I don't have to repeat myself when he is with me. I say it, and he moves into action. Most interesting is his interest in his personal appearance. As I watched his routines, I knew they came from his dad because it was another thing I admired about him. I understand that these things would have been hit or miss with me because of my free-spirited nature, and he is my only child—I have been spoiling him all of his life.
A good friend/brother had a real conversation with me about sons needing their fathers. Honestly, the conversation was painful and challenging for me. I left the conversation with a halfway smile and a massive wall built. I heard him. However, "Not going to happen" was the thought that rang very clearly in my mind. Unknowingly, he watered the seeds God laid on my heart on the epic Italian train ride that changed how I would co-parent this lifetime.
I remember sitting by the window as the Tuscan countryside blurred past, in and out of consciousness, as the sleep carried me into dreamland. I could see my son on the phone talking to me about staying with his papi as a child and his most recent conversation about a son needing his dad. A conversation that I rolled my eyeballs because I thought there was no way he could have come up with that thought all alone. Then I heard The Voice say, G is going to live with his father. A line that makes me tear up to this day. My heart shattered, and I quickly woke up to tell my homegirls. We all got quiet for a minute. My friend Jess uttered words to console me, but J, my big sis, and I knew that the decision was made and God was using Italy as a place to console my heart as he pulled down my thoughts on what it was to be a single parent. As strangers chatted around me in Italian, I wiped my tears and prepared for the inevitable. It was at this moment that God planted the seeds that Steven watered.
The good news is that it didn't take a physical death for my son to continue his stay with his father through high school. I spoke to my ex-husband, and we had another peaceful exchange. We now have three peaceful exchanges in the books, and I am grateful for every one of them. The first happened when we got on a phone call to discuss the logistics of G's move to ensure there were no misunderstandings, and I understood what was needed. The second came during the visitation of G's new middle school, where we became a united co-parenting team- visiting teachers together, discussing G's schedule, and showing empathy for one another as I said see you later and got in the car for the long, sad drive back home. Our most recent exchange involved talks about high school, summer plans, and me living out of the country—it was here that I agreed that G would remain with his dad for his high school years. We are maturing and realizing what is essential. Rather than competing for our son's love, we're learning that successful co-parenting means putting our differences aside and focusing on the question: 'What does G need from us right now?'" I know this is nothing but God when I listen to us.
Did I cry during the conversation? Yes, I did. Did my ex-husband hear me? Heck no, I am waaaay to G for that. I held my composure as I felt my stomach fall to my asshole and my heart scream, "My BABY" in a high pitch. LOL! My ex-husband brought me into reality when he mentioned missing G in his formative years and being happy to see him grow into a teenager. It choked me up and reminded me that he made the sacrifice earlier in this chapter of our life, and it was my turn. It is truly a change of arms. Thank God the only thing that had to die was my ego.
For other mothers facing this transition, I want to share what I've learned: your worth isn't measured by having your child under your roof every day. Sometimes, the bravest form of mothering is recognizing when your child needs something different than you can provide. Co-parenting isn't about keeping score or competing for love—it's about creating a support network that can flex and change as your child grows. I've discovered that releasing control doesn't mean releasing the connection. Our bond has deepened in different ways through intentional morning phone calls, visits filled with quality rather than quantity, and the trust G sees between his parents. The baton may have changed hands for this leg of the race, but we're still running toward the same finish line: raising a whole, healthy son who knows he is deeply loved from all sides.
Love, Charlene