We also started telling the girls about their biological father, Evan, in small, “age-appropriate pieces.” We let them know they didn’t have to meet him unless they wanted to someday. Above all, we promised that this discovery wouldn’t change our family; if anything, it would make it bigger. “Mia is my daughter, and Sophie is Sasha’s—and that both of them now had more family, not less.”
The next few months were a mix of “messy and ordinary all at once.” Therapy on Thursdays became a regular part of our routine. Tuesdays were reserved for spaghetti at our house, and Fridays were for tacos at Sasha’s. The two of us, “two moms trading recipes and school pickup duty,” started working on new arrangements, creating “custody schedules that looked nothing like custody and everything like a carpool spreadsheet.”Continue reading…
