One of the byproducts of attachment parenting the way we practiced it —without bottles or pumps—is that feeding delivered not only nutrition but also comfort. By its nature, breastfeeding enhances attachment. I have no virtual reality in which we can replay the past to see if X would have felt closer to G as a little one if we had bottle-fed part of the time. However, both then and now he admits that the tedium of early childhood was not his forte. I recognize that my dad and I grew far closer as I got older; perhaps this was all destined to evolve in its own way.

As I grew into confidence as a young mother, X focused on his career. My burgeoning self-development ran alongside his increased sense of isolation, yet other issues were at play: a cross-country move away from family and a pulling up of professional roots with the intent of replanting them on the opposite coast. Much of this served to make me stronger and to challenge X’s worldview. Motherhood gave me definition; if I didn’t know how to manage, damn it, I would learn.

Whether it was the nursing, co-sleeping, my unresolved childhood issues, or our own special stew, X grew increasingly distant over time. I cannot ignore the fact that he felt he could not console our little girl. (Whether or not this is true, it is what he felt.) This is not to say that I nursed her ever time there was a hiccup in her life nor that he was absent, but she grew up seeking more emotional refuge with me. Looking back it’s hard to tell what came first, his gradual pulling away enabled a chicken-egg scenario.

When X eventually departed for further self-discovery and the legal end to our marriage, he navigated his departure thoughtfully. Years passed and eventually G began to question the situation in her quiet, reflective way. X responded almost immediately to every question or concern G sent him. This is true from divorce-day-one, actually; it is just that she did not ask much in the first years. Perhaps my fault because of how I painted his leaving, “He’s like a caged bird who needed to be free to create. We don’t believe in trapping anyone in our family.” This was as close to the truth as I could design. She was eight, and I wanted to offer her as much peace as I could. Along with his regular visits, when she asked he was there, and over time they worked to build their bond.

Currently we all live on the same property. X stays and goes with typical unpredictability, but he has done a lot more staying this year, creating an opportunity for X and G to re-constellate, or to an extent, constellate in the first place. They spent spring break together in the sun and during the week they meet regularly for meals and a swim. There is no question this is not only deeply healing for both of them; it is also magical to observe. X lights up at the chance to be with her, as does she with him. It is not lost on me that this is a time when she could have been sorting out the sadness of her first breakup in dark ways; instead she is talking and catching up with her dad.

X is helping her sort out lots of things, and I see how this works well for both them. From the earliest days when she was riding in the Baby Bjorn, I would face G toward me and he would face her out toward the world. The metaphor endures. She retreats for rest or support with me; with him, she dares to climb a sheer cliff and rebuild her strength. He excels at helping with medical issues and has stepped up for her in this area, too. I notice how G respects his point of view and gets less upset with him than she does with me.

While this has created much appreciated time for me to catch my breath, I admit to an accompanying a sense of adjustment. X said to me, “You represent the past; she does not want to go back.” Obviously there is truth in this sentence for both of them. There have been moments when I have felt quite isolated, but G and I have enjoyed some really fun times together lately, too, vastly better than most of the past six months. I learned a lot during that time about stepping back, keeping my mouth shut but my heart open. I still question myself, wondering if I’m going to keep or lose her with my action of the moment, if my latest words undermine her fragile opinion of me. While I recognize that I need to be an adult and not be affected if they do, I wonder if I am experiencing a taste of how X felt when G was little. Sometimes he can reach her when I cannot. Their love is simpler. But I will say this unequivocally: if she needs someone, I am so very glad it can be he. I am deeply grateful he has taken this time to be nearer, to help secure her foundation in a way that only he can.

X and I met when we were seventeen on our way to college as equals, and I believe we have always been secretly competitive. In order to compensate for this and our non-confrontational style, we drew lines in the sand, drew straws, or somehow delineated our roles in advance. I was the parent; he was the artist. Even when we worked together we did not share much; we divided and conquered.

Twenty-five years of relationship, almost thirty years as friends, has proven its mettle. Life also has reiterated that we don’t know it all when we start. We learn an awful lot on the road, from accidents and wrong turns. While there is no doubt that X and I need to be on different paths for our own actualization, we are learning still about relating to each other and how to be on the same path for our child. Teenager-hood has illustrated to me that G needs both of her parents, and in many ways this reality is bringing out the best in all of us. We are not a traditional family, but we are a family nonetheless. That we can function this way despite the breakdown of our marriage gives me hope. Despite our best intentions, we made lots of mistakes, but this feels good. I look back on my childhood—one of a threesome just like G—and realize I learned the definition of belonging from my mother and dad. We, too, were imperfect in so many ways, but we were a family nonetheless.

Last Saturday, X and G did a Star Wars marathon. He created a plan, got all the films, and brought home a delicious lunch. I made popcorn and checked in on them periodically, happy to go back to my reading and projects. I love listening to X and G connect, ever grateful that X and I have had a friendship to fall back on and to nurture as we move along this unpredictable road of life. But best of all is when the three of us have time together, particulary a meaningful conversation. There is nothing quite like it. We are the original three, and we always will be.