SA’s own ‘Fatherhood’: Dad shares tale of raising two kids on his own as a widower

Never had I ever thought I would become a single dad at the age of 45. This is my journey going from dad to mom and a widower.

Dottie and I met on the bus travelling to work. Yes, those days we still used the bus to travel to work and back. It wasn’t love at first sight, but we quickly became best friends. We were inseparable. We were comfortable with each other and after two years of our best-friendship we bought a house together. We were enjoying life like normal young people do! Dottie was five years my senior, but we were soulmates.

Milan was born 14 years after wee met. The timing was perfect We both were more mature and lived stable lives. We eventually got married when Milan was two years old. Funny enough Dottie fell pregnant while we were on honeymoon! Sadly, Dottie had a miscarriage when she was 15 weeks pregnant. It was twins.

It was my first experience of losing someone close to me. To me they were already part of our lives and it was a difficult time for me and for Dottie. I really struggled through the mourning process. Dottie suffered from depression – well she actually had post-natal depression after Milan’s birth and I had to hold back. I just tried to help Dottie in her healing process. This was the first mistake I made, facing death but never allowing myself to mourn as well.

We were blessed four years later with Mianè

Dottie was mostly taking care of the children, buying their clothes, brushing their teeth and packing their lunch. I wasn’t the vomit-type-of-dad when it came to nappy changes or baby duties. Even though Dottie mostly handled that, I was still there to assist when she wanted me to, giving her a break when she needed it. I was also a very hands-on dad and enjoyed my fatherly duties.

But I was still a man who liked to watch a bit of rugby – especially with Milan – he was crazy about rugby, having a braai and drinks with friends and family.

ALSO SEE: Netflix movie ‘Fatherhood’ reminds us what being a dad is supposed to be about

Mianè was about two years old when Dottie fell ill. At first, we were cautious and didn’t know what to expect. She was diagnosed with unspecified interstitial lung disease. It wasn’t treatable. Though the doctors tried all kinds of treatment to prolong the effects, nothing helped. We were told she would eventually have to get a lung transplant. Until then everyone had to try to make her life as normal as possible. 

During the second year of Dottie’s illness, I had to start taking over a lot of the chores. She was now on an oxygen machine and was finding it harder to do her normal mommy-tasks.  She bravely tried to do the things she usually did, but I realised that all of a sudden, I spent more time being a mom than watching rugby with Milan, my family and friends.

Mianè was three, just out of the terrible twos period. Not that she really (or Milan) had that. They were actually a huge blessing growing up.

We spent most of the time at home as it was easier with the oxygen machine, even though we had a portable machine for when we wanted to travel, go to the mall or just for a quick family visit.

Dottie also decided she wanted to be as normal as possible. She kept on working as a legal cost consultant. Now just more from home. After the third year of her illness things became worse. She had a lung capacity of just 18% and could hardly do anything. But still she tried, never giving up. I started to help her wash her hair, doing her makeup, shaving her legs. She was a very proud woman and always wanted to look her best!

We also bought her a wheelchair to still enjoy going outside, visits to the mall, friends or family

I was slowly converted from being the man of the household to the all-rounder of the house. I packed the lunch for the kids, I helped with their homework, I cooked at night and when required. My days slowly became an 18 hour day. Being at the office, doing the household chores, helping the kids, helping Dottie.

Thinking back at how I did it all I don’t know. I just worked.

I could see the humiliation and admiration in Dottie’s eyes, sometimes filled with tears. She desperately wanted to help but couldn’t any more. I never asked any questions, I just kept on praying for her to receive a pair of lungs and to have her back being a wife and mommy, as her eyes were telling me every day.

I sometimes think that I didn’t do enough, I could’ve rubbed her feet a bit more. Or brushed her hair a bit longer. Make her look even prettier, if that was even possible! To me she was as beautiful as ever!

By the fourth year Dottie was very weak and her lung capacity kept on dropping as she was moving into the final stages of her illness, needing the lung transplant urgently. I remember Milan kept on praying for his mom to get lungs for his birthday. “Dear God, I don’t want any gifts for my birthday, just new lungs for my mommy!” And Mianè was so small she could hardly utter the words but she also prayed for lungs for her mommy in her own way. 

Milan’s prayer was answered. We received the phone call at 11.50pm one night in early 2018 that there was a suitable donor for Dottie. One day after Milan’s 10th birthday. Brand new lungs, well nearly brand new, for Dottie!

Never had I thought the call was the start of my next chapter of my journey on becoming a mom.