For as long as my children have lived, they’ve assumed that I have only one parent: a mom. I didn’t have a dad because I never talked about having a dad. I never talked about having a dad because, in my mind, I don’t have a dad. Or, I did have a dad, but he died in 2008, two years before my oldest was born.
So, since he wasn’t living when we conceived my first daughter and he wasn’t living when she was born, he had no meaning, beyond DNA, to their lives. So I didn’t talk about him…ever.