Fatherhood brought extraordinary joy into my life. At the same time, it unfolded within a marriage that was struggling almost from the very beginning. To tell Jake's story honestly, I also need to tell the story of the environment in which he grew up.
There are chapters in life that don’t fit neatly into “good” or “bad.” They’re layered. Complex. Full of both love and hardship. This is one of those chapters—the story of Cindy, the mother of our son Jake, and the years that shaped me in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time.
Cindy and I met in early 1991. We were both coming off relationships that had ended. Mine a couple of years back, hers more recent. We were both carrying some history and both hoping to build something new. I knew I wanted to have a family someday, but at that stage in my life, I wasn’t certain Cindy was the person I’d build that with. We were both young, caught up in the excitement of the moment, and like many people at that age, we moved quickly into a relationship that felt intense but not yet fully grounded. Things progressed quickly, as they often do when emotions and attractions are strong.
Another thing that stood out to me early on was her family. Her parents, Chet and Kay, were good, steady people. I remember being drawn to them immediately. They had a warmth and stability that I admired, and I believed that said something about Cindy as well. Her larger family came together for Thanksgiving, Christmas & other big events, and that was something I always loved and appreciated at the time. Life moved quickly after that.
In December, 1991, our son Jacob Timothy was born. And to this day, I can say that was one of the greatest things either of us has ever done. No matter what came later, that part was always right.
We began our lives together in the home I owned in Plymouth, Minnesota. Cindy also had a dog, Cinder, so Fence #1 was built. However, in 1992 we moved to Roland, Iowa. It was located 10 miles north of Ames. That would be the first of many moves tied to my work and our attempt to find the right place to build a life. 3M Ames was looking for engineers who would do both process and project engineering for a manufacturing line, and with my experience, I was a perfect fit. It would also be a homecoming given that I graduated from Iowa State. I looked forward to sharing that experience with my son at football games and campus visits.
We lived in a small house right next to the softball fields. It was simple and just the right size for a young couple with a child. We would personalize it through several DIY projects, and we purchased a home entertainment center for downstairs where the movies from Disney were a big hit for everyone. I had built Fence #2 so that we had a safe play area for Jake and our two dogs at this time, Cinder and Curly. Curly was a retired racing greyhound that we literally took off the truck that was taking him to be euthanized. A third dog would join us later in the form of a Chihuahua, Mouse. The “taco-bell dog”.
I have many great memories of playing in the backyard or in the nearby park with Jake’s young friends. We would also ride our bikes all over the town. Boy, did we ride our bikes. Jake went through so many tires on his tricycle and bicycle trying to keep up with me. There were plenty of open spaces and fields in Roland to explore, and we took full advantage of those. Those were good memories. My mom came to visit several times, and we made monthly trips to Wisconsin to see her and Chuck and Terry’s family. I would work in nearby Ames, and the commute was a breeze down I35.
But Cindy was already struggling with her mental health. She loved to go out at night and play pool at the bars in nearby Ames with friends. This became more and more frequent as time went by. Our neighbors were wondering if I was a single parent at times because of her prolonged absences. During our time in Roland, things reached a breaking point, and we separated. She moved into an apartment, and I stayed in the house with Jake.
Eventually, we found our way back together and moved into another home nearby in 1998—this time to Story City, IA. I was also promoted to a supervisory position, so my career was doing well. I would excel in this position and received great reviews and pay raises, which helped with our finances. Jake was getting ready for 3rd grade in a new school, but in the same district. A new job, a new beautiful house, a bigger space, a sense that we were moving forward. More purchases to fill the space, i.e., pool table, foosball table, card table, beds, roll-top desks, etc.
But underneath, things were never quite settled. Another dog joined the family. A German Schnauzer named Zooie. Jake loved Zooie, but Zooie was not a dog that could be trusted around anyone because of her aggressive behavior and biting. We later had to put her down.
Looking back, I can say our marriage was a struggle from the start. Not because either of us didn’t care—but because we were very different. Different expectations. Different ways of handling stress. And we never really had the time to build a strong foundation before life accelerated. To make matters worse, my Emotional Intelligence was very low at this point in my life. Growing up with boys and an alcoholic father did not help me become an empathetic person. Reflective thinking and providing affirmation or encouragement were something I knew very little about.
We went from meeting… to becoming parents… almost overnight.
Cindy dealt with anxiety and depression, and over time it became more pronounced. Winters were especially difficult. The lack of sunlight seemed to deepen everything. There were periods of restlessness—trying to feel better, trying to escape what she was feeling at times that showed up in going out, partying, or relying on things that didn’t truly solve the problem.
But the underlying challenges never really left. She missed her parents and started to become very jealous of her twin sister Kim, and her kids’ growing relationship with grandpa and grandma back in the Twin Cities.
In 2003, we moved back to Minnesota, settling in Ham Lake near her parents in Andover. Being closer to family helped in some ways. Fence #3 was built prior to moving in, and we had two acres to play in. This was a perfect yard for paintball, and that was something we thoroughly enjoyed playing with friends and family.
Another 3 dogs came to join our family here. We now had Bella and Dolce, both Italian greyhounds, Curly, a full-grown greyhound, Mouse the chihuahua, and Moose, a papillon. 5 DOGS. It felt like a herd, and I was a farm hand at times.
We stayed there until Jake graduated high school in 2010. Those years mattered to me. Watching him grow, develop, and step into adulthood—that was the center of everything. Jake excelled in school. He was also a very gifted trumpet player, and around this time he became very interested in CrossFit.
Through all the ups and downs of our married life, parenting Jake was the one thing we truly shared. It was where the joy lived.
In 2010, we moved to Powder Springs, Georgia because of Cindy's ongoing health concerns and the lack of sunlight during winters. I was able to stay with 3M but needed to take a demotion for the job I accepted. That was a bitter pill to swallow after just starting to get stock options. Jake attended Georgia Tech, so we were near him again, which was a blessing. Fence #4.
But Georgia also became one of the most difficult chapters of our lives.
Cindy’s health struggles intensified. The word "benzodiazepine" and all things related were talked about on almost a daily basis. Different prescriptions in that drug class were used in an attempt to treat her disorder. She had growing fears about mold in the house and a belief that the environment itself was making her sick. Weekends meant tearing into walls, searching for something that wasn’t there. We removed fixtures, replaced things unnecessarily, and chased solutions that didn’t bring peace. I have numerous stories just like this one.
My life was no longer my own. I worked long hours at work only to come home to a very dark, depressing environment that revolved around Cindy’s illness. I had become my mother, living in a loveless marriage, taking care of my spouse. Even though Jake was only a few miles away in Atlanta, his visits became less and less frequent, and I could not blame him.
At this point, I started having issues at work with my manager, which led to additional stress on the job. There was no relief in sight. I felt trapped and alone. It was a very sad time for me.
It was doctor after doctor. Clinic after clinic. Hospital after hospital. Traveling cross-country and following every internet cure. After much time to pause and look back at that time, I came to the realization that I allowed someone I love to take complete control of my life. I was given anywhere from 10 to 15 minutes at a time to do something for myself. I could write a book on toxic relationships and the boundaries I failed to set or have.
At the same time, life dealt another heavy blow—Cindy's father became seriously ill. She was struggling so much with her own health that she couldn’t be there for him in the way she wanted. Chet wanted to travel from St. Louis and go back home in Minneapolis. After working a full day, I got in the car and drove through the night to Missouri. I arrived the next day, picked him up, and drove him back to Minnesota. Then I turned around and drove back. 2300 mile round trip in three days.
It was exhausting—but it was what needed to be done. And that's what I was then. A robot you could count on not to fail but to get things done.
Not long after that, Chet passed away in December of 2011. I was glad that I was able to share that last trip with him. Chet was a great guy. That was a heavy loss for both Cindy and me.
Eventually, Georgia itself became the perceived problem. The mold, the environment—something about it wasn’t right. We traveled cross-country for an experimental blood transfusion procedure in Arizona. Imagine traveling by van across the country with three dogs and a mattress in back. It was literally the trip from hell. In the end, her health concerns remained unresolved, and her depression continued to worsen.
So in the winter of 2013, we moved back to Minneapolis. Fence #5. Fortunately, the new position was a promotion of two levels, and I started receiving stock options again and a very good salary. For me, having a job I love brought some joy. There were moments of stability for us there, but the challenges didn’t disappear. Soon after, her mother became ill. And not long after that, she passed in May of 2013. That loss hit hard. Losing both parents in a relatively short span of time would shake anyone.
But what followed created another kind of strain. There was money that had been saved—meant to be distributed among the children. Before that process was even complete, my wife began spending heavily. It started gradually, then accelerated. She was buying things for others, buying things for herself, and doing much of it without me knowing. There was a credit card I wasn’t aware of. By the time I realized what had happened, there was $75,000 in debt with an interest rate of 20%.
To deal with it, I took out two loans against my 401(k) to pay it off. It felt like the responsible thing to do at the time—to clean it up, to stabilize things. But life had one more curveball. 3M decided to cut middle- to upper-management—people in my age bracket. Approximately 2000 people were let go at the end of 2015. When I lost my job, those loans from her grief-induced spending spree would have to be paid off. Most of my severance package went towards that end.
In August of 2015, Cindy had made the decision to move to Tucson, Arizona. She believed the sunshine and dry climate would help. I was staying true to the promise I made to my mom to help her get settled in her new senior living community in Minneapolis. At that point, we began living separate lives in separate homes. And eventually, that led to the end of our marriage. She was unfaithful and found someone else in Tucson. They would later marry. To this day, I can never understand how a man can knowingly date a married woman. To boot, he had to know I stayed back to take care of my mother. Or did he? His profession is a lawyer, so…. What do you call 100 dead lawyers at the bottom of the ocean? A good start.
Looking back, we ended up owning 8 different homes and just as many dogs while we were together. Each time we moved, it gave her something to focus on for just a few months as she purchased furniture, drapes, etc. to make the house a home. Just as quickly as that excitement and focus came, it would leave once the task was done. The depression would sink back in. Manic. Depression. Manic. Depression. A horrible cycle.
I do find it ironic that the only interest Cindy had in 3M during my entire career was the amount in my 401(k) and what 50% of my pension would be during the divorce proceedings. She did not attend any of the events with me. Most times I either went alone or with Jake. She rarely wanted to know what I did during the day as her problems were always the priority. I sound a little bitter here. I’m human. It’s another tough pill to swallow when one is the earner/saver, and one is the spender.
It would be easy to look at this story and focus only on the struggles. But that wouldn’t be the full truth because out of all of it came Jake—and the experience of being his father. And that remains one of the greatest blessings of my life.
This chapter also taught me things I carry with me to this day:
- Boundaries. Boundaries. Boundaries. Learn them. Have them.
- You can’t fix everything for someone else, no matter how much you care.
- A strong foundation matters more than a fast start.
- Mental and emotional health shape everything else in life.
- Love and effort don’t always lead to compatibility.
- Financial decisions made under stress can have long-lasting consequences.
I choose not to define those years by disappointment. I define them by perseverance. They gave me years raising Jake—years that continue to rank among the greatest gifts of my life. And many of my favorite memories from those years happened in the simplest of places: a baseball field.