From Angela we present this article

Although you might form a general prediction based on his affinity for children (or lack of it), you can never know for certain, until he actually becomes a father.

My ex husband never wanted kids. He admitted to me from the outset that he was selfish in that respect. There was too much fun to be had in life, and he didn’t want parenting to get in the way of that.

Despite the fact that I’d always envisioned myself with a family, I loved him so much that I married him anyway and accepted my fate. A future without children.

Indeed, the first ten years of our marriage, we were childless. It gnawed at me over the years.

In my mid-thirties, for reasons too broad to go into here, I decided I had to have children. It went deeper than just a biological clock. It was more to do with long-term regrets.

I told my husband that I wanted a baby.

When I told him, his face went white. He was so overwhelmed that he said he needed a walk. He left the house and didn’t come back for several hours.

Upon returning, he reiterated the reasons that he’d always been opposed to having kids, but he conceded that if it was what I really wanted, he wouldn’t stand in my way.

I remember, vividly, the day I ran into the garage where he was working out and showed him the blue stick. He didn’t jump up and down or celebrate or kiss me or phone his parents. He smiled cordially, the way you might when accepting a dinner invitation. This was to be expected, because his heart wasn’t really in it.

Our baby came. Beautiful. Perfect. Healthy.

Although my husband didn’t exhibit joy and love with the abandon most wives would like, he immediately took to his responsibility as a dad. He changed shitty nappies every single morning. He rocked our baby to sleep. He fed, he played, he tickled. He supported me as best as he could.

As our son grew, my husband fell deeper in love with his child. He was attentive, calm, fun, patient and involved. He went to school plays. He built things. He shared music. He taught. He went camping. He bought clothes. He joked. He supported. He encouraged. He cuddled.

When we divorced, custody battles weren’t even an option. There was no way in hell that I would’ve entertained main custody. I knew that would never have been acceptable to my ex, and I knew my son would have been robbed of essential time with a fantastic dad. We arranged 50/50 custody.

One night, during my ex’s week with our son, as I sat all alone in my new house, I received a text from him.

‘I just wanted to thank you for persuading me to have a child. I love our little fella so much.’

That text meant the world to me. I realised that although my ex may have initially felt cheated, he was now experiencing a love like no other. Despite the love he has for his new wife and step-daughter, I know his (our) son is his number one priority in life. He loves that kid like nobody’s business, and he is an incomparable dad.

My son knows it too. One morning, aged 8 or 9, he came to my bed in tears.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, worried.

‘I’ve just been thinking about dad and how great he is. He makes everything happen. You know? Everything I need, he finds a way. I really love him and I don’t ever want him to die.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘You have the best dad in the world.’