Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

The Moment We First Held Our Daughters


There are times when I wonder what it must be like to witness your child being born.  I never had that chance due to the particular chemotheraputic drug I received which in turn saved my life, but left me sterile.  It is not something I can regret or take back.  As Wendy found herself dealing with her own fertility struggles, we found ourselves at a major crossroad as time was running out if we were indeed going to expand our family beyond the two of us.  As I am often known to remove emotion from my decision-making process to allow more prompt success especially with medical issues, this was going to be perhaps one of the most difficult.  I was not just urging a decision that would affect me, but my wife.  There was every chance that whatever we decided, she could turn around at a later time, and blame me for what she might just say was a rushed and decisive error, that I took away opportunity from her.

But Wendy knew that there was nothing more that I wanted in my life, than to be a father.  With all medical and financial options nearly spent, it was going to take blind faith that this final attempt, whether biological, fostering, or adoption, would help us reach our dream of becoming parents.

“Wendy, we both know, we only have the money to pursue IVF (test tube process and insemination) only once.  We know there is no guarantee as we found out with artificial insemination.  We know the heartbreak to come so close, have your body give signs that the attempt was successful, only to eventually get your period, even months late.  We have only one other option to consider, and that too will only have enough finances to try once, adoption.  Yes, we know that depending on the type of adoption we choose, the process could be long, have waves of false hopes, and worse, birth mothers changing their mind in giving up their babies for adoption.  That heartbreak would be devastating to us we know.  We are running out of time.  And I know this is going to come out cold and insensitive, but with all the emotions, we have to try to remain focused.  We want a family.  I know you want to keep trying.  But with all the love in my heart for you, I have to ask you this.  What is more important to you – the actual sensation and act of being pregnant and giving birth, or being a mom?”

In all fairness, at that moment, I felt like the biggest asshole.  Wendy had been through so much with hormone injections, false hopes of failed insemination attempts and I was not going to give her any time to grieve for this heartbreaking situation.  Though my fertility issue was dealt with more than a decade prior, it would be years before Wendy would fully come to terms with infertility.  But it was her body.  And ultimately, the decision had to be up to her.  I made it quite clear, what I had hoped she would do.

It was agreed that we would pursue adoption.  Adoption offered us the best opportunity for us to become parents.  Eventually, we would decide on International adoption, locate an organization to facilitate the adoption.  And then we began the seemingly endless amount of paperwork from legal documents for the United States, and for China.  Home studies and police clearances were completed as well as autobiographies to convince China that Wendy and I would be good parents.  And then, comparable to pregnancy, we began the wait.  We knew that it would be months before our dossier would even be seen by Chinese officials.  And near the end of January of 2004, word came that a child had been matched up to us and we should expect all of our information soon.  It would be delivered via FedEx on January 28th.  Just days before, our area had been blanketed by several inches of snow.  But that afternoon, just a little after 1:00pm, into our driveway pulled a FedEx van.  We freaked out the driver with our excitement urging her inside so that we could celebrate, oh, and eventually telling her what we were celebrating.  We took pictures of the driver and then let her on her way as we were not her only delivery to make.  (One side note, she would be our driver yet again for the delivery of our second adoption notice).

We sat down at our kitchen table, drew in a couple of deep breaths, and then opened the envelope.  Inside was a red folder (red is good luck in China).  The folder was packed with paperwork, and pictures.  Her given name was Fu Shu Ting and her presumed date of birth was March 25th, 2003.  There was acceptance documentation that needed to be completed and returned as soon as possible.  Preparations for travel within the next six weeks needed to be made, as well as attending one more very important information meeting.  There were ten other families traveling with us at that time on that sixteen hour non-stop flight, though most of us had never met before, and with a 13 hour time difference, once we landed, and were able to get to sleep, we had been informed to expect our children even earlier than anticipated.

We landed in our the provincial capital city of Nanchang in Jiangxi Province.  We were driven to our hotel, checked in, and were told we would be leaving in less than an hour to go to the Notary office, where Chinese officials, orphanage personnel, and foster mothers would be arriving with our daughters.  Again, to compare it to the biological process of giving birth, we had “conception”, gestatition, and now the water was “broken”.  Upon arrival at the city building, we were escorted upstairs, and explained a very simple process that would change our lives forever.  We were assigned numbers by familiy, our number being seven.  Shu Ting would be identified by the number seven, not necessarily the seventh child being brought into the room.

Only by the coincidence of who had been a total stranger just 20 hours earlier, snapped a photograph of the orhpanage personnel holding Shu Ting.  She was wearing a bright green sweater, obviously bundled up in layers of clothing.  Our guide De called out “NUMBER 7!”  And with that, we knew that she was ours.  We jumped up, squirmed through two of the other newly formed families, and then Madison was placed into our arms.  The was THE moment we had been waiting for, for so long.  It had finally happened, we became parents.  Though we were drowning in our own tears of joy, not even a sound had come out of Madison.  We were mom and dad.  It was at that moment that we realized we made the right decision, and also, that we would waste no time once we arrived back home in the United States, we would do the process again.

Daddy, I Don’t Feel So Good


There are many responsibilities that I volunteered for when I made the decision to be a dad.  I have the confidence that I can protect my daughters from bullies in school.  Any dates that my daughters bring home will go through me.  I have to make sure that they both receive the best education and learn life’s lessons so that they can succeed as adults.  I can cook for them, do their laundry, and love spending time with them any chance that I get.

Prior to their adoptions, Wendy and I were dealing with a medical issue in the Emergency Room of our local hospital for an allergic reaction to an antibiotic.  It was fairly quiet that evening.  But that was about to change.  A gurney rushed by our room.  On it was a small girl with her father by her side.  I am not sure what was wrong, but within moments, I would find out how in spite of everything that I had been planning for in our pending adoption, there was one thing I was not prepared for in fatherhood.

No sooner had a resident passed my room, I heard a curtain being drawn shut.  And then, “DADDYYYYYY!  NOOOOO!!!  THEY’RE HURTING ME!!!!  MAKE THEM STOP!!!!  DON’T LET THEM DO THIS TO ME!!!  HELP ME DADDYYYYYY!!!  This poor child, screaming at the top of her lungs in hysterics for protection by her father.  I have no idea what was being done, but could have been something as simple as a blood draw.  In any case, something immediately hit me, “my God, I am not prepared to hear my child scream in blood terror and hysterics and pain.”

Fortunately, in our eight years with each other, niether Madison or Emmalie have really ever tested my ability to tolerate that level of drama.  I am lucky that both of our daughters rarely get sick, and in general do not complain about pain or discomfort.  We credit this to a decision that we made a long time ago, to let our children tell us when they were not feeling well.  If either fell, we were not going to be the ones fussing over them telling them that they must be hurting.  We let them tell us.  Even with colds and sinus infections, or worse, we usually have no idea when it is too much for them until obvious behaviors become evident.  Emmalie does not talk much when she is not feeling well.  This is in stark contrast to her usually energy level.  Also, she does not do without asking for at least a snack every hour.  Madison is the same way when it comes to food, but instead of a talking issue, Madison does not socialize as much when she is not feeling well.

So when it comes that we actually hear, “my belly hurts”, in general, we have no reason to think otherwise that something is wrong, and usually there is.  However, Wendy and I have discovered that both girls have a very keen ability to manipulate, not just us, but others around them.  They know how to play Wendy and I against each other, or other relatives against us.  Madison is smart enough to realize what needs to happen in order to be diagnosed as sick.  It has happened once or twice that Madison has pulled this drama on unsuspecting victims only to be revealed by me as “father knows best”.  Originally I can come off as an uncaring ogre, but as I blow the whistle, and she realizes that her cover has been exposed, she switches over to damage control.  When she realizes that she cannot continue to function in her day as “business as usual” because of her sickness, and the day is not going to go as planned, she has occasionally come to the conclusion, she needs what medicine cannot provide, a miracle.

I love telling the story of one of her most powerful abilities which if she is within earshot, you will never see a child’s grin any greater and sincere.  One evening sitting at the dinner table, Madison leads the discussion with a request for an iguana for a pet, no warning or reason offered.  Now, I am an animal lover.  I prefer dogs, but all animals are welcome in our house.  But our house is not to be confused as some sort of zoo or wildlife refuge.  So, since our animal population is already fairly high, it was really quite easy to say “no” as I am easily able to do.  Madison and Emmalie both often refer to me as the “NO Daddy” as for no reason at all, the majority of the time, when asked for something materialistic in nature, I will say no.  My attitude is better to surprise them with a “yes” than disappoint them with a “no”  For instance, I do not always carry quarters in my pocket and stores insist of having those impulse toy and candy dispensers at the exits of the store.  I generally say “no”, and this way there is no issue, but when I say “yes”, they are definitely surprised.

And so, I proceed to punctuate Madison’s request with a period in the form of “no”.  Of course the conversation went to the “why not” and then alternative lizards and such, all of which ended with the same result, “no”.  Realizing that I was putting up much more of a difficult resistance than she had planned, she resorted to a new level of attack, drama.  Wendy and I have been lucky in that neither girls have really ever thrown a tantrum at home or in public.  This was always something that I dreaded happening, because simply, if I am out with Wendy without the kids, the last thing I want is to hear someone else’s.  But Madison decided that she wanted the iguana turned chameleon turned turtle bad enough that she now had to pull out all the stops.

Her look changed from very innocent to one of disappointment.  Which then changed to anxiety as she could tell my answer was firm, and Mommy was not jumping in to help her out.  Still having no effect on changing our minds, her face muscles clearly got tense and began to flex.  She looked like she was getting angry.  Just seconds later her face started to swell and  I could tell what was about to happen.  Her eyes started to well up, and then it happened, the first tear fell.  This was going to finally get Wendy to cave in as I was still holding my ground.  I just kept hoping to myself that Wendy would hold out, just give it a minute or two, and Madison will stop and give in.  To my surprise, Wendy was not responding as immediately as I thought she would.  Then we saw just how smart and talented our oldest daughter truly is.  With tears now streaming out of her eyes full force, she then bursts into laughter.  Wendy and I have confirmed it, that Madison is the queen of manipulation.

So I gave her recognition and admiration for the level of skill and performance that someone of her age should have accomplished.  Her response?  “That’s not all I can do”.  This was two years ago when Madison was seven years ago.  We cannot underestimate either girl in what they are capable of accomplishing, but then again, I could not be any more proud of how smart they are.  I still have time to prepare, but I think in the long run, daddy’s little girl will eventually prevail.

Today, Madison is home from school sick, complaints of stomach discomfort and nausea.  Yesterday and the day before, Emmy was home from school for the exact same thing, only provided the proof.  Though clearly not a fun day in the house today, because I am taking care of her in her time of illness, if she is playing me, she knows that she has not put enough thought into it.  On the other hand, if I am wrong, then I should be glad I am not having to clean anything up or off.  That would be another and different adventure and blog.

What I Want My Daughters To Know


 

  • I love both of you unconditionally, and without end.  Without either of you in my life, I would consider my life empty and incomplete.
  • I took no great enjoyment in being “dad” with rules, but am confident that I have prepared you for the world the best that I could. Your education was the most important thing next to love that I could give you.
  • I wanted and chose to spend every waking hour that I had with you.  The only time that I spent away from you was to support you, provide for you, and protect you.
  • I remember everything thing you did, everything you tried, everything you liked.
  • The happiest moments in my life, was the day each of you were placed in my arms.
  • I am scared for the day you tell me, “Dad, Matthew asked me out.”
  • I will be there for both of you for all of your lives.  I will never judge you.  I need you to know and trust that you can come to me.
  • I am sorry that you had to be exposed to so many health issues for me.  But I got through each crisis knowing that I had to come home to you.
  • I expect hugs from both of you, no matter how old you are.
  • I want both of you to love each other, be best friends to each other as well as sisters.
  • You will always be able to come back home.
  • I Love You Both!

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