Over time, I’ve come to realize that you can’t make rules for how someone else’s life should unfold. People see me piling out of a minivan with four kids and just assume I’m a husband running errands for my wife. At school events or the grocery store, I get comments like, “You must be giving Mom a break today,” or “Looks like Dad’s got his hands full.” I usually just smile and keep it moving. Explaining that I’m a full-time single dad raising four kids on my own takes more energy than I’ve got most days.
Seth Megow
But my kids love to flip the script. Without missing a beat, they’ll say something like, “Do you want to marry our dad?” They’ve taken it upon themselves to be my little matchmakers. It’s both funny and mildly embarrassing, but it’s also a reminder of how close we’ve become.
Our story goes back to 2003. I was just eighteen, driving an old, beat-up Volkswagen bus, when I fell in love with my best friend. We’d been close for a long time, pretending we didn’t have feelings until finally admitting the truth. A year later, at nineteen, we got married. The wedding was lighthearted and full of personality, inspired by the spirit of the ’60s. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we had love and that was enough. Life was simple and full of love.
Then our family grew—first Olive, then Titus, Neela, and finally Stevie. For a while, we had a rhythm. But things started to shift around 2013. Between work, school, and the daily grind of raising four kids, we began to lose connection. My wife started spending more time out of the house. We argued more. Slowly, the distance between us became something we couldn’t ignore. Eventually, she decided to move out.
At first, I didn’t tell many people what was going on. I just kept showing up, doing what needed to be done, holding it all together for the kids. But I’ll never forget one night—I found them asleep by the front door, waiting for their mom to come home. That moment hit me harder than anything else. It made me realize they didn’t just need a roof over their heads. They needed me fully present. They needed my joy, my hope, and my strength.
Those first few months as a single parent were the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. My family lived far away, and my ex had already started building a new life. I felt completely alone. But I knew I had a choice. I had a choice to stay stuck in the hurt or create a home where healing could begin I chose the second. I let the kids paint murals on the walls, we took spontaneous day trips, and we had real conversations about how we felt. It didn’t always look perfect, but it was real. Slowly, something shifted. As I focused on bringing joy into their lives, something in me started to mend too.
Still, the emotional weight of divorce didn’t just go away. As a father, I found purpose. But deep down, I felt like a faded version of the person I once was. My self-worth took a hit. And I saw that same struggle begin to show up in my kids. That’s when we started talking more intentionally about value—about who we are and why we matter. We reminded each other that we were created with care, that each of us has a purpose. Those conversations helped all of us grow. Our bond deepened, and our confidence slowly returned. We even began looking outward—finding ways to help others, which helped us discover our own worth in the process.
I’m not a perfect parent. I still lose my patience. I still question myself. But I’ve never been more certain that raising these four kids is the most important thing I’ll ever do. They make me laugh, push my limits, and sometimes drive me up the wall—all within the same hour. But they’ve also saved me. They’ve given me something to fight for.
People ask me all the time if I’d go back and do things differently—if I’d try harder to save the marriage. wanna know the truth i would not change a thing. The pain shaped me. The loss taught me. And the love I have now, the life we’ve built, is something I hold close. Marriage was a journey I gave everything to. It didn’t end the way I expected, but it gave me four incredible children and made me the man I am today. I co-parent with their mom when I can, and I honestly wish her nothing but peace and happiness.
Our story didn’t go according to plan. But it’s still a beautiful one. Full of grit, grace, and growth.
