My brother Mateo has children with three different women and a habit of borrowing money. When he hinted another baby was coming, I lost it. “Get a vasectomy,” I said. “Stop having kids you can’t support.”
That’s when he cracked: “I think I’m addicted to being needed. I don’t know how to say no.” Suddenly, his charm fell away, and I saw the broken boy we were after Dad walked out—always searching for love, always trying to rescue someone.
This time, he asked for $200 to help a woman named Kelly, supposedly pregnant and struggling. I gave it, though it strained me. But something felt off. I searched her name—no baby, no pregnancy, just a boyfriend. Mateo lied. He was drowning in child support debt and couldn’t bear to admit it.
I told him, “You can’t lie your way into being a better man.” That struck a nerve.
Since then, he joined a support group for fathers, booked a vasectomy consult, and even got his kids together for the first time. He’s working again—and made a real child support payment.
Mateo’s still messy, still healing. But he’s trying. And sometimes, that’s where real change begins.
