Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Inspired By…”

One Big Mess Last Week


Last week was one week that I know I was wanting to come to an end real quick. I normally make my blog about one particular topic, but last week was such a mess, literally. Once again, we got hit with our annual mid-February major snowstorm, dumping more than a foot of snow on our area. But to make things even more challenging, I received a phone call from my father while I was on the way to the gym, that he was on his way to the emergency room. He is still dealing with effects from battling his lung cancer. I have my suspicions as to what is behind this repeated flare-up, but then again, I am no doctor. Decisions that my father made in regards to his treatments were his to make. All I can do is make sure that he is cared for properly to deal with these side effects.

My father did not have any intention of remaining in the hospital passed Wednesday as the weather forecast was calling for a major snowfall, so he had every plan of going home. His situation got complicated, which I will put into another post. Because this post took a completely unexpected turn for me later that evening.

For the second time in two months, I am saying good bye to another young life. I received a call that my brother’s step son had died in a car accident earlier in the day. The details of the accident have not been made public, and to be honest, I do not know or think that having those details will provide any consolation.

I only knew James casually, and to me, he seemed like many other kids I knew, went through his phases, but overall, he was a good kid. I questioned his choices of hair colors and maybe some piercings, but he really was a good kid, reliable. He assisted me with some heavy lifting following my heart surgery. My daughters adored him.

2014 really has not gone the way I was hoping. Next week, my father is looking at yet another procedure. And now there is a funeral to attend. And my father must make choices about that surgery, based upon the arrangements of the funeral for his grandson.

Been There, Done That


A comment was made to me the other day by someone who had just heard rumor that I was getting divorced. “A lot of adoptive families are getting divorced years after adopting. It really is not fair to the children to do that to them. They have been through so much as it is.”

I would tend to agree, however, as someone going through a divorce (my second actually), with adoptive children from this second marriage, I can say with all sincerity, my divorce has nothing to do with the adoption process or my children. I do not care about statistics, scientific or manufactured. The fact is, I have kept quiet intentionally about the reason behind my divorce, the process and steps of my divorce, and what my hopes are following this divorce. And for no other reason, than those very children that I mentioned earlier.

I am a fairly private person when it comes to the burdens I face in life. I do not like to burden anyone else. So in spite of obvious behavior changes in public between my ex-wife-to-be and I, people still expressed shock, disappointment, and some, even anger (mostly from her family) for what simply did not make sense. Again, I am not going to discuss the circumstances that led me to file, nor am I going to discuss reactions and the way that I am being treated.

I cannot speak for her, but my marriage failed. I do still have the responsibility of being a parent. And I believe that I am a great dad. I love both of my daughters and will do all that I can to protect them through this process. But this is a divorce. Someone will feel wronged. Comments will be made that cannot be taken back, whether factual or simply emotional. But children are especially susceptible and intuitive when “mommy and daddy” no longer seem to be getting along. The children do not need the additional comments and opinions of others, including other family members to make them feel worse about the situation that they are caught right in the middle of. Instead, it would benefit the children more, if energies were directed more at showing that with the exception of the divorce, the rest of their lives will continue to be normal. Their mother will be the same person. Their father will be the same person. Their friends and families will still be the same. Their world should not come to an end because their parents are divorcing. Quite the contrary, as Dr. Phil says (I cannot believe I am actually quoting him), “better for a child to come from a broken home, than to live in one.”

I am doing my best to make sure that they do not feel that this situation is their fault, because they have absolutely nothing to do with it. Because of the adoptions, both my ex-to-be and I are very close to the many families that we adopted with and I have made it clear that when it comes to our annual reunions, that I expect both of us to attend with our daughters. While it may be awkward at first, she and I have proven on at least three occasions that we will still be able to co-parent our children. But this is also important to all the other children who were adopted with us, as they too will be affected.

So, this is what people will still see, my ex-to-be and I co-parenting. I cannot control what is done and said behind the scenes other than what I do myself. My children do not need to see or hear the growing animosity that often comes with a bitter divorce process. I know how sensitive children are to this process as I was a child of divorce. I experienced the animosity and the hatred that was not kept from me. I will never forget it. Those memories are what drive me to protect my daughters from the misdirected and misguided judgments that are thrown at me. They do not mention what they overhear, but they do hear it. And that is not fair to them. My daughters love me, and they love their mother. It is not right for certain individuals to take that away from my children.

I am just asking, please, keep the children in mind.

My Dearest Emmalie


On March 14, 2004, it took all of about five minutes after my oldest daughter was placed in my arms, I wanted to do it again. On February 6, 2006, I was back in China, Nanchang City in Jiangxi Province, at the local adoption affairs office, where an entourage of social welfare workers and caregivers would be arriving with not just my youngest daughter, but children who would be adopted by ten other families along with us.

For some, we call it “Gotcha Day” as in I finally have you. Some call it “Forever Day”. There are all kinds of nicknames given this special moment but it results in the same, another member has joined the family. For the Edelmans, it was Ling Wan Xu, who would be legally called Emmalie Josephine Wan Xu. Just as I did with Madison, I decided that Emmalie would also have her Chinese name as part of her legal name, which would allow her at the age of 18, to use her Chinese name legally if so desired. That would be her choice.

While I have told the “Super Bowl” story plenty of times, a different tale was about to unfold with Emmy. Although today she is my “cuddlebug”, it was not the case when she first saw me, not even close. For an unknown reason, I was not able to be in the same room with her. The last I had checked, my appearance was not even half as bad as the most gruesome looking fairy tale character, but I may as well have been to Emmalie. She would get herself so worked up at the sight of me, scream at the top of her lungs, upset enough to get violently ill. In fact, she got so sick she had to be taken to a hospital for dehydration (another post… hospitals in China).

It took three days to notice a particular behavior by Emmalie. It seemed to be only me that she reacted to in this manner, until another dad happen to stop by our room. And her screams began again. What was it that upset Emmy so much about myself, and this other dad, but not the other dads? Madison adjusted nicely to me, although I was always good for Cheerios supply.

It was facial hair. I had a goatee at that time, which I routinely shave off and grow back. However, for the purposes of international travel, I chose to have it, because then my appearance would resemble my passport. I wanted no opportunity for any authority to question who I was. None of the other dads had facial hair. There was only one way to find out. So I set out to find a grocery store to locate shaving cream and a razor and then shaved the goatee off.

That resolved the issue, but created another. You guessed right. I was now getting stopped at every immigration counter. But Emmalie was happy. That was all that matters.

Eight years ago. It is hard to believe. One of the two happiest days of my life. I love you Emmalie.

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