Dad By Default

This blog is for all the single moms who leaned on their dads as role models, who looked to the man who raised them to help shape how they would raise their children.

Motherhood comes naturally—we’re wired for it.
But when you're the only parent, you don’t just mother.
You father, too.

Here’s a little bit about my dad, Bill Finnegan, and what I carry with me every day because of him.

He wasn’t the loudest man in the room. He didn’t brag or boast. He didn’t raise his voice or try to command attention. In fact, he was almost entirely the opposite. Humble. Unassuming. Quietly strong. He lived a simple life, filled with purpose and service. He was a volunteer fireman. A paramedic. He spent countless hours helping factory workers recover from addiction and find their way back to themselves. And yet, he never brought any of that home. He carried the weight of people’s hardest stories without ever asking for applause.

As a dad, he never embarrassed me, never lectured me, never made me feel small. He had this incredible way of getting his point across without saying much at all.

I remember when I kept breaking curfew as a teenager. I thought I was slick, slipping in late at night, assuming he was sound asleep. Until one night, I tripped over the coffee table that had mysteriously migrated into a new spot. He never said a word about it—but I got the message loud and clear. He knew. And more importantly, he cared. That quiet signal was more powerful than any punishment could’ve been. I never broke curfew again. Not because I was scared of getting caught, but because I never wanted to disappoint him.

That was the power he held—not through force, but through presence.

When I decided to leave a corporate career in San Francisco and move to Mexico, people had opinions. But not my dad. He simply said, “Follow your dreams.” And when I found myself pregnant, single, and staring down the unknown, he was right there—calm, steady, and certain. “You can do this,” he said. “You’ll give this child a very interesting life. Let go of the idea of how it’s supposed to look.” He believed in me so completely that it made me believe in myself.

He passed in 2013. But not before he saw a glimpse of the life I was building—of the woman and mother I was becoming, of my work with VSA, and of me trying to hold all the pieces together. He saw just enough to know that Tallulah and I were going to be okay.

My goal has always been to make him proud. And I hope, in the way I’ve raised my daughter, the choices I’ve made, and the values I’ve passed on—I’ve done that. I tried my best to be the kind of dad to her that he was to me.

If you're out there being both mom and dad—just know, you're not alone. You're doing the most important job in the world, twice over, and you're doing it beautifully!

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