By Cecily Baker, 28th January 2016

I am the 4×4 Mum

But that Doesn't Make Me a Bad Parent

But that Doesn’t Make Me a Bad Parent

In a poignant month where we are faced by mortality because three legends have left us, it was lovely to hear of some pleasant news.

I was really touched to read that the Brangelina household have decided to add another child into their family. “Moussa” is the beautiful boy they have chosen to adopt from Syria.

Adopting young Moussa takes their child count number up to seven. Although my first reaction to this may be ‘Wow, that’s a LOT’, I suddenly realise that actually, only three are their own biological children. Does that make a difference?

As I was reading through some of the responses to online articles, I was surprised at the venom being directed at the couple. It seems that the idea of multiple children is still a contentious issue.

Isn’t it up to them what they do with their lives?

I can fully appreciate their eclectic private life and in my eyes you can tell straight away they have what I like to call a ‘real’ marriage. Not just for show or invented for the media. Surely if the children live surrounded by this love it doesn’t matter how many people are sharing it?

Such a beautiful and talented couple: but what of us mere mortals? What if we were reflecting their actions?

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Angelina is one of the few celebrities I would like to sit and have a glass of wine with, heck – maybe even a bottle. I respect her and think she would  be fascinated by my own family set up.

I am a single mum and have four children.

4x4.1

My eldest boy is 19, and I have three daughters aged 13, 9 and 2; and to make life even more complicated, they all have different Dads.

I can hear the sharp intake of breath as I say that. Yes. I am the 4×4 Mum

Four Children. Four different fathers. How?

I could of course draw a diagram for you….

So OK, we know how it happened but the main thing is that it did. No one sets out on that journey, but I am here now.

At my slightly more wizened age of almost 43 I can look back on my past and see how it all fitted together. My mum walked out when I was one and my Dad (who was heavily into drugs and alcohol until he died when I was 17) was not the best role model, to say the least.

Now before I say any more, I want to state emphatically that I am not looking for sympathy here, and certainly not saying children from broken homes (as I was) will automatically go on to have children by multiple fathers. I did in fact have a pretty amazing childhood.

My brother and I were raised by my paternal Grandparents. We had an acre of land to lose ourselves in and an incredible house with a peacock that roamed the grounds. Idyllic really, and quite unusual for a house in Bolton, smack bang in the middle of a working class area of the UK.

We were not dysfunctional as a family, at least not that I was aware of. However, the situation was made much more complicated by my mother’s ‘new’ family. When she left, she moved to Australia and never told her new husband about me or my brother. The whole situation got just a little strange. I was not even aware of my mother’s new life until I had left home.

I craved love and attention and over the years pieced the story together.

My past had left scars. I was abused as a baby and when I was found, my bottom was completely black and purple from being beaten continuously. I will be forever grateful for being taken away from that situation. It wasn’t until recently that I was made aware that the reason my mother left us (when she was just 17!) and fled to Australia was because she was facing prison.

But don’t go grabbing the tissues, this is NOT a sob story. It’s pretty shocking, yes, but I think the various cortex connections were misfiring and out of this situation I was left with some sort of attachment disorder.

Is it really any surprise that I spent my teenage and adult years searching for love?

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I got married at 22 but we divorced when I was 27. And I had a 3 year old son by the time we realised that we got married far too young… before we even knew who we were. I then met a DJ and moved to south London where I became a teacher. Our differences grew more and more and when we finally realised just how wide the ocean was that had grown between us, we had a one year old daughter. A split was inevitable but still heartbreaking.

My next relationship started in the school where I worked for the first 5 years of my career. I honestly thought he was The One I would spend the rest of my life with, and was heartbroken when he left me alone with our three year old daughter.

By this time I had three children and a heart that had been broken three times over. I was not doing so great. A piece of advice here would be to give yourself time to grieve after such a big relationship.

I didn’t – and I was on the rebound when I started a relationship with a man much younger than me. We moved to the countryside and I thought I would have an idyllic, perfect Stepford Wife life. Him, me and my three kids.

At 40, I was to be dealt yet one more shock I was pregnant again after being told I could not have any more. Stunned didn’t even come close.

It seems the shock was just too much for my partner. As soon as my baby was born my partner had a breakdown and was sectioned. Yet another emotional blow I was no way prepared for.

I left the countryside and brought my children back to London, the place they considered home as of the beginning of 2014. We all needed to heal and I admitted we needed support.

Two of The Dads live around the corner from us now (in different houses lol). And I now focus all my energy on the dream of buying our ‘forever home’.

Apart from my youngest, all my children have amazing relationships with their fathers. They are great men who adore their children.

So how exactly did I get from Angelina and Brad Pitt to me and my 4×4 kids? Well yes, we do have moments where it’s more Jeremy Kyle than Pitt and Jolie. But then what family IS normal?

To add even more intrigue into an already interesting dynamic, all my children still have different surnames. I’m working on that. At least the Pitts have got it right with that one.

It took a while, but I am now more comfortable with the sideways glances I get at the doctors’ surgeries or at school. I think most people are genuinely shocked when they realise that we are an articulate family, well-educated, oh, and a well-mannered bunch.

Just a note to all those out there: having 4 children by 4 different fathers does not make you a nasty lowlife. It means you have a much more interesting life story.

How am I that different to Brad and Angelina who adopted their other children from Cambodia, Vietnam, Ethiopia and now Syria?

OK, quite a lot of course, but at the end of the day the one thing we DO have in common is that we are all doing our level best to raise well-rounded human beings.

I think the fact the Pitts have integrated what seem to be happy, grounded and normal children together – without parading them around like a Kardashian accessory – is both remarkable and admirable. They clearly have the resources easily at hand, but they also clearly love ALL their children equally, and in their own way they are making a huge difference.

I hope that one day I too can say that I have made a positive impact on the world. But I need to sort out my own metaphorical garden first.

I celebrate the humans I have created. They really are unique: so balanced and already sharing an amazing and unique story.

One of my daughter’s teachers took her to one side and asked her “not to talk about the fact we all have different daddies at school”. Like any mother wouldI bounded straight into the school office and calmly responded that in our house we celebrate diversity rather than hide from it. I believe that is exactly what the Pitts do so successfully.

If I were to be ashamed of my past then what kind of example does that set for my children?

My story does have a happy ending of course.

I no longer crave love.

When I look into four pairs of eyes staring back at me, I realise that I have found love in abundance.

No man could ever come close.

(Note from The Editor. Many thanks to Cecily Baker – Loud, Proud, Feisty mum of four who says it as it is. Read more about Cecily and how you can stay up to date with her antics here on her author page or visit her website:www.cecilybaker.co.uk)

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