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Sometimes Dads Fail
Being a parent never comes with that all-important instruction manual. How many times have I wished there was an “operations manual” that I could refer to as I made my way through fatherhood? I was married at age 22, a dad at age 31, and divorced at age 36. After my first daughter, pictured above, came my son and then my youngest daughter. I had to work hard to have the privilege of being a dad. My ex-wife professed the desire to never have children, but I had always wanted that as a part of my life. This is a detail we failed to negotiate before marriage. At about year seven, I knew that this wasn’t going to happen for us, and I made a weak attempt at ending the marriage.
My ex-wife did not want us to part and threw in the “What if we had kids” question. I was back on board! But after many years of trying and several failed pregnancies (which I now have learned are due to my own genetics), I proposed becoming a family through adoption. What a beautiful experience that has been. I can quite confidently and defensively say that my children have always been just that. My children. They were in my heart from the moment I learned about each of them, and I have never considered them NOT to be my “own” daughters and son.
But with the sharpening lens of age, I can now clearly see how many times I failed them as a dad. I was the product of a very troubled family. My dad was very detached…
