**Diary Entry 15th May**
He said I wasnt cut out to be a father but Ive raised these children from the very beginning.
When my sister Emily went into labour, I was miles awayat a biker rally in the Lake District. Shed begged me not to cancel the trip, insisting shed be fine, that there was still time.
Time that didnt exist.
Three beautiful babies came into the worldLily, Grace, and Oliver. Emily didnt make it.
I remember cradling those tiny bundles in the neonatal unit, my hands still reeking of petrol and leather. I had no plan, no clue what to do. But I looked at themtheir little facesand knew: I wasnt leaving.
Night rides turned into night feeds. The lads at the garage covered my shifts so I could pick the kids up from nursery. I learned to braid Graces hair, calm Lilys tantrums, and convince Oliver to eat something other than buttered pasta. I stopped joining long rides. Sold two bikes. Built bunk beds by hand.
Five years. Five birthdays. Five winters of flu and stomach bugs. I wasnt perfect, but I stayed. Every single day.
Thenhe showed up.
The biological father. Not on the birth certificates. Never visited Emily during the pregnancy. According to her, hed said triplets didnt suit his lifestyle.
But now? He wanted to take them.
And he didnt come alone. He brought a social worker named Margaret. She eyed my oil-stained overalls and declared I wasnt a suitable long-term environment for these children.
I couldnt believe my ears.
Margaret walked through our small but tidy home. Saw the kids drawings on the fridge. Their bikes in the garden. Tiny wellies by the door. She smiled politely. Took notes. I noticed her gaze linger a little too long on the tattoo on my neck.
The worst part? The children didnt understand. Lily hid behind me. Oliver burst into tears. Grace asked, Is this man going to be our new dad?
I said, No ones taking you away. Not without a fight.
Now the hearings in a week. Ive got a solicitor. Good one. Bloody expensive, but worth it. The garage is barely scraping by since Im doing it all alone, but Id sell every last wrench to keep my kids.
I didnt know what the judge would decide.
The night before the hearing, I couldnt sleep. Sat at the kitchen table, clutching a drawing Lily mademe holding their hands in front of our house, a wonky sun in the corner. Childish scribbles, but honestly? I looked happier in that drawing than I ever had in real life.
That morning, I dug out the button-up shirt I hadnt worn since Emilys funeral. Grace took one look and said, Uncle James, you look like a vicar.
Hope the judge likes vicars, I joked weakly.
The courtroom felt like another worldall beige and polished. Ethan sat across from me in a posh suit, playing the doting father. Hed even brought a framed photo of the kids, bought from a shop, as if that proved anything.
Margaret read her report. She didnt lie, but she didnt soften it either. Mentioned limited resources, concerns about emotional development, and, of courselack of a traditional family structure.
My fists clenched under the table.
Then it was my turn.
I told the judge everything. From the moment I got the call about Emily to the time Grace threw up down my back on a long drive and I didnt even flinch. I talked about Lilys speech delay and how I took a second job to pay for her therapist. How Oliver finally learned to swim because I promised him fish and chips every Friday if he didnt give up.
The judge looked at me. Do you truly believe you can raise three children alone?
I swallowed. Couldve lied. Didnt.
No. Not always, I said. But I do it. Every day, for five years. Not because I had to. Because theyre my family.
Ethan leaned forward like he wanted to say something. But he stayed quiet.
Thensomething happened.
Grace raised her hand.
The judge, surprised, said, Yes, young lady?
She stood on the stool and said, Uncle James hugs us every morning. When we have bad dreams, he sleeps on the floor next to us. He sold his bike to fix our boiler. I dont know what a dads supposed to be, but weve already got one.
Silence. Absolute silence.
Maybe that sealed it. Maybe the judge had already decided. But when he finally said, Custody remains with Mr. James Dawson,I let out a breath Id been holding for years.
Ethan didnt even glance at me as he left. Margaret gave me the slightest nod.
That evening, I made cheese toasties with tomato soupthe kids favourite. Grace danced on the kitchen table. Oliver waved a butter knife like a lightsaber. Lily hugged me and whispered, I knew youd win.
And right then, greasy kitchen and all, I felt like the richest man alive.
Family isnt blood. Its who stays. Again and again. Even when its hard.
If you believe love makes a parentshare this. Someone might need it today.
