My partner kicked the bucket today. Then I followed suit. And then one of our kids… then my sibling and their significant other… “Apologies for the family casualties,” my attorney quipped.
Nope, this wasn’t the worst day ever; it was just a much-needed hypothetical chat. My partner and I finally visited an estate planning lawyer to draft a will and set up a trust for our kids, plus designate each other as power of attorney and medical proxy in case we croak unexpectedly. (My partner couldn’t resist making dark jokes about how “unfortunate” it would be if he were to kick the bucket first. “Just a heads-up, sweetheart, when the insurance folks call, you’ll want that lump sum,” he advised.)
At around 40 years old, you might be wondering why we waited so long. And perhaps you’re thinking, oh no… I should probably look into this too… SQUIRREL!
According to an ABC poll, fewer than half of Americans have done proper estate planning. I totally understand. My partner and I attempted this over a decade ago when we were freshly married, newcomers to homeownership, and new parents. It was a lot to take in, and we couldn’t afford a lawyer, so we threw in the towel after a half-hearted DIY attempt. To be fair, we did notarize a document naming a guardian for our newborn daughter, but that was about it.
The recent passing of a family member shook us awake to the importance of having a power of attorney and medical proxy. You assume your spouse will automatically step in or that family knows your wishes, but the tangled web of medical and legal regulations can leave your loved ones lost—think Terri Schiavo. My lawyer pointed out that even those who planned responsibly years ago need to revisit documents because of evolving laws like HIPAA that could undermine their original intentions. Yikes! I’m grateful to have someone who knows all this stuff.
And that’s the crux: I don’t need to be an expert (because I’m not!). Honestly, the process was less pricey than I anticipated. Our initial planning session was even complimentary. I feel such relief knowing we have secured our children’s future, even if I hope it never comes to that. It’s not a pleasant thought, but it’s far worse to face a crisis without preparation. I was feeling pretty accomplished until I asked my partner a crucial question.
“Hey, can you name any of our kids’ doctors?”
“Uh, nope.”
Oops.
I really shouldn’t have been shocked. During our legal appointment, I learned that I alone had all the passwords for our financial accounts since I manage the bills. If I were to pass away or become incapacitated, my partner’s access to our banking info would be as good as nonexistent. So, we fixed that. The division of labor in our household left another gap I needed to shore up—making sure he has access to vital info in case I’m… out of commission.
This might resonate with some of you while sounding odd to others. A parent unfamiliar with their child’s physician? You bet. My partner works long hours in the corporate world, which has allowed me to be the stay-at-home caregiver. He travels often, and I’ve naturally taken on the primary caretaker role. While he contributes a lot, he misses out on a ton too. The reality is, my kids and I see a lot of doctors due to a genetic syndrome we share, and we juggle multiple specialists.
In an ideal world, my partner and I would attend every appointment together, holding hands and asking thoughtful questions from a perfectly prepped list. Instead, I’m usually scrambling to get to physical therapy, running errands, and dealing with school nurse calls about injuries or medication. Sometimes he’s not even aware we have a specific doctor—there are just so many.
I’m not saying this is the right or wrong way to do things; it’s just how it is. He’s deeply immersed in work, and by the time he gets home, two chatty kids and a slightly frazzled wife are there to overwhelm him with the day’s happenings. If he’s been traveling, we try to summarize the significant points. Our children’s health issues have become “my thing.”
Medical professionals often get a bad rap in films for being cold or somehow prioritizing work over family—as if it’s an either/or situation. I’ve heard the grumbling in parenting groups and on social media. While some may struggle with balance, I teach my kids how much love it takes for their dad to work hard for our family and what we have because of him. If something were to happen to me—or both of us—figuring out who’s been managing our children’s medical care would be a Herculean task for anyone stepping in. But the solution was straightforward: I made a list of doctors and specialists to stick on our fridge. Done. I don’t need to guilt my partner for not keeping pace with me; I just need to empower him with the information he needs to navigate if I’m not around.
Taking proactive steps to manage a potential crisis doesn’t mean you’re paranoid or pessimistic. By shedding my superhero cape and the mom guilt that comes with it, I’m enabling my partner to be prepared to step up if something happens to me. I don’t like thinking about life without him or him carrying on without me, but if you truly care about someone, you need to envision that reality.
And then you equip them with the tools they might need.
Summary
This article discusses the importance of estate planning and preparing for potential crises, emphasizing that taking preventive measures is not an act of paranoia. It offers personal anecdotes about navigating family dynamics and caregiving responsibilities, while providing practical solutions for ensuring that partners are informed and prepared.