My name is Jason. I'm a father of three beautiful girls.
I started that journey way too young to understand what it actually meant.
I was 16, in Year 10, and had just broken up with my girlfriend. Then a letter arrived. I still remember the last line clearly — "and by the way, I'm pregnant."
That sentence changed my entire life.
I had no idea how to adult, let alone how to be a dad. Telling my parents was one of the hardest conversations I've ever had. They were disappointed but supportive. I could have handled everything better — hindsight has a way of making that painfully obvious. And I genuinely don't blame my ex's mother for pushing me away. She was protecting her daughter from the 16-year-old who got her pregnant. I get it.
What followed was 13 to 14 years of no real contact with my daughter.
Some of that was circumstance. Most of it was me — buried in shame and disappointment, convincing myself that disappearing was somehow easier than facing what I'd done.
Turns out I was a slow learner.
At 19, it happened again. Almost identically. Another daughter. Another situation I wasn't ready for. I was pushed to the edges again, and again I let it happen. She was 11 before I had any real presence in her life.
After that, I did what a lot of men do when the weight gets too heavy.
I ran.
I moved interstate to start fresh. New city, new beginning. Except your problems don't stay behind when you leave — they come with you, they just unpack slower.
I bounced through relationships and jobs, looking for something I couldn't name. I now know I was looking for love because I didn't believe I deserved it. I was justifying my own disappointment in myself, over and over, in different ways.
Then I had my third daughter — with my wife at the time — partly in an attempt to save the marriage.
I know how that sounds.
My youngest is 10 now. I've had shared custody her entire life. For the first time, I got to actually watch a daughter grow up — the school plays, the Saturday mornings, the ordinary Tuesday nights. All the things I missed with her sisters.
That experience broke something open in me.
Over the last decade I've done more self-reflection than I ever thought I was capable of. And the most important thing I've come to understand is this: my choices and mistakes don't define who I am. They're part of my story, but they don't get to be the whole story. I get to decide who I am as a father, a partner, a friend, a son — every single day.
That realisation didn't come quickly or easily. But it changed everything.
Mid 2025, Anchor Lane was born.
I wanted to build something for dads who are trying — who want to show up but don't always know how. Who feel the distance growing and don't have the tools to close it.
I started with The Chat Pack — a conversation card deck designed to get real conversations happening between dads and their kids. Simple in concept. Significant in impact.
The name came from something I believe deeply: children need their father to be an anchor. Someone steady. Someone they can find when things get hard. Someone who's still there when the tide pulls everything else away.
I'm still learning. Every day. About myself, about fatherhood, about what it means to actually show up.
But I'm here. And if you're reading this, I'm guessing you are too.
That's enough to start.
Anchor Lane exists to help dads become the role models their kids need — not perfect, just present and intentional.
