In the second part of the series, Kitty Holland meets a lone father who says he is coping just fine bringing up his three teenagers.

Were it not for one particular social worker, who "listened to and believed me", David Donlea believes he would have lost his three children. The 37-year-old father of 17-year-old twin girls and an 18-year-old boy - whom he does not want named, to protect them from being "branded" - Donlea faced many obstacles in proving himself to be dad material. The Corkman has worked as a bouncer, is a former boxing champion and sports a shaved head and tattoos. "People might say I don't exactly fit the cuddly-daddy image. But I love my kids. I wouldn't have gone through all I have if I didn't love them."

The growing number of lone-parent families was a cause for concern, according to the final report of the Government's Commission on the Family, Strengthening Families For Life, in 1998. It implied that the upward trend in lone-parenthood should be halted and the status of marriage bolstered. This year, however, the Family Studies Unit at University College Dublin observed that the aim to make marriage the cornerstone of secure family life had "been overwhelmed by social change". Attitudes were changing faster than the welfare and legal systems.

Lone-parent families are increasing, from 129,116 in 1996 to 153,863 in 2002. Lone motherhood, perhaps unsurprisingly, is far more common than lone fatherhood. While Census 2002 found 130,364 lone mothers (up 20 per cent on the 108,282 in 1996) it found 23,499 lone fathers (up 13 per cent on the 20,834 in 1996). There is no statistical breakdown for why the mother or father became the lone parent, although researchers point both to the persistent perception of mothers as "natural" carers, meaning children tend to stay with their mothers in the event of relationship breakdown, and to the dynamics of the social and legal systems, which tend also towards keeping children with their mothers.

Cases such as Donlea's are clearly, still, unusual. His 14-year marriage had broken down many years before his now ex-wife left the family home, he says. Although he does not want to go into detail about the problems in the marriage, he does say there were emotional problems that affected not only him but also the children. Although Donlea had thought of leaving his wife many times, and was urged to by his family and even by gardaí who were called to the house during some of the arguments, he says he couldn't have left his children. Looking back, he says, it is unbelievable that statutory agents, and even some of his friends, felt it best he move out of the family home, leaving the children with their mother.

When his wife left and went to her parents' home, the twin girls initially went with her. Donlea was at first denied access to his daughters until a social worker, new to the family's case, asked him to visit, as they had been asking for him. With the support of this social worker he applied for custody of the girls. He won. Critical to this process for him was the social worker who "showed faith in me, who really listened to me and believed me. No one had wanted to even try that before, and to be honest it was ripping the heart out of me," he says.

A key moment in the process was when he broke down in tears with his daughters, at a family meeting with the social worker, and told them how much he loved them. Until then they too believed the stereotype, that their tough-looking dad was "too hard to care". His daughters also broke down, and the three held each other, sobbing. He later apologised to the social worker for being weak. She said tears were not a sign of weakness. "She told me it was OK to cry and to just be me." It was a moment of connection with his daughters, he says.

Alhough he has no contact with the children's mother, his son does speak to her, as do the girls intermittently. The past was traumatic for all of them, but now, says Donlea, "the kids feel safe, secure. There's no one at us. And we're flying", he adds with a grin.

The girls do miss a mother figure, he concedes. "It's hard on them all right, because they've no one to ask, 'Does my hair look nice?' or say, 'Will we go into town and look at dresses?' And girls need a mother to talk to them about periods and that. But they are lucky they have each other." Asked about cooking, cleaning and cuddling, he says, with a half-indignant smile, "I was doing all that before their mother left anyway. I'm not looking for credit or nothing. But fellas are well able to do all that."

Though research on the role of fathers after separation is increasing, it mainly focuses on fathers who have had to leave the family home. And even these voices are less familiar than those of lone mothers. As a result the father's voice has by and large been filtered through such politicised lobby groups as AMEN and Parental Equality. Undoubtedly such groups have a role, says Fergus Hogan of Waterford Institute of Technology, one of the authors of the just-published report Strengthening Families Through Fathers. They provide a forum to vent the hurt and rage felt by hundreds of fathers excluded from their children's lives by the statutory agencies and by - no doubt equally hurt - mothers. These groups also aim to bring about policy change. However, says Hogan, there is a need to get beyond the image of separated fathers as angry. "If you sit down and talk to these fathers you find that behind the aggression and shouting is great sadness and loss." Men, he says, should be supported emotionally.

Hogan's report addresses the way the social and welfare systems exclude fathers. It calls for a significant overhaul of the family law system, to make it more father-friendly and to give "due recognition" to the rights of unmarried fathers.

It also criticises the welfare-payment system, citing the fact that lone-parent allowance is paid only on condition that the parent does not cohabit. Given that most lone parents are mothers, the effect is to exclude mainly fathers. All of these, continues Hogan, perpetuate attitudes that see mothers as the natural carers and fathers as peripheral, more naturally inclined to be providers.

In his research Hogan also interviewed children whose relationships with their fathers were under threat because of the views of experts. "The children in such cases spoke openly of their desire to have relationships with their fathers," says Hogan.

When people hear David Donlea is a lone father, the vast majority say nothing more to him than, "Fair dues to you," he says. "A few are curious, all right, that I got the kids and say it's more usual for kids to go with their mam. The odd one says I should have stayed with her and that marriage is important. But, the way I see it, everyone has the right to say what they think. As long as me and the kids are OK, that's all I care about. And we are.

The lone father

23, 499

That's the number of lone fathers in the State, according to Census 2002 - a 13 percent increase (2,665) since the 1996 figure of 20,834.

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