Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Making The Decision (To Adopt)


Wendy and I were already in mid-life stride when we got married.  We got together with one very important goal of our marriage.  We wanted to be parents.  Of course, before Wendy said yes to marrying me, I did make her aware that due to my cancer treatments, I was not able to have children.  This had been confirmed.  But I assured Wendy that I fully supported her in efforts to get pregnant artificially, such as in vitro or in vivo.

Since there was nothing to confirm about me with the process, it was a matter of selecting a fertility specialist for Wendy as well as donor facility.  Oddly enough, the specialist wanted to begin by re-testing me.  When I explained the chemo regiment that I went through, thereby leaving me unable to knock anyone up, and confirmed by sperm count (or countless – nothing), I was told that in just fifteen years, new technology was available to go further into the “why” of infertility from chemotherapy.

I must admit, that from the time I was told I could not have children, my desire to be a father never waned.  But disappointment was strong that I did not pursue sperm storage prior to beginning treatments.  My oncologist ignored my age in exchange for timeliness of treatment, clearly a factor in surviving Hodgkin’s Disease.  But to be told there was still a chance, more definitive testing could reveal that my body was still capable of producing baby batter.  And if it were, then it was not a matter of being infertile, but rather a failure somewhere in the reproductive system, as perhaps as simple as a blockage.

After a repeat of the sperm count, I had a blood test done to test FSH, the hormone necessary in determining the ability to produce sperm.  No or low FSH, the body is not producing sperm.  End of story.  But if normal level, the body is still making the hormone necessary to produce sperm.  That would mean more tests, possibly a blockage.  But, also, a possible blood heir.

But it was not to be, as my counts were too low.  The plus side to that, is that there would be no delay in moving on to Wendy.  My book on fertility was closed long ago, and I had resolved my issue.

Everything was checking out okay with Wendy, so we went ahead with artificial insemination, just placing the sperm inside.  It had its chances for success and was less expensive that the test tube process.  There were lots of hormone shots for her, no comfort for me.  Sadly all six attempts failed, though one had given us quite a bit of hope.  The doctor then told us, perhaps it was time to go to the next level.

We had spent so much money so far, with no results.  Wendy grew frustrated as success was not happening.  We were at a crossroad because we were running out of time and money.  The new process was extremely expensive and like the artificial insemination, was not a sure thing.  Or, we could consider adoption.  That also was not a sure thing, but had a better chance of success.  We were running out of time and running out of money.  And the decision had to be made  while coming to terms that she may not be able to give birth, infertility.  Wendy was a normal healthy female, okay, mid 30′s at that point, but had no reason to think she was unable to get pregnant.  Whether male or female, having to deal with being infertile, emotionally it can be devastating.  As I said, I had already come to terms with it in my past, but Wendy had no reason to suspect.  Now, without grieving for her loss, she now had to move forward and make a decision now.

The best advice that I could give Wendy, and this was her body, her decision to make, was simply put:  “do you want to be a mom, or do you want to give birth?”  It was a harsh question and unfair, but it was the only way that Wendy could see the overall picture in the short time and funds we possessed.  It was not until several years later that she finally accepted the fact that she could not give birth, which is not the same as being infertile, just cold not give birth.

Wendy made the decision, which I supported, that being a mother was the most important consideration.  Together, we decided to pursue adoption.  The only thing left to decide was they types of adoption, closed or open, domestic or international.

We contacted several agencies only making actual contact with one that would give us the time of day.  Most others never bothered to return our calls, or were judgemental because of me having a prior marriage.  But the one agency that accepted our call, spoke with us for close to an hour, answering all of our questions, and then invited us to informational meetings.

It was at that meeting, that we met a little girl who had recently been adopted from China.   She was an adorable and pleasant little girl and just melted our hearts.   Wendy and I knew this is what we were going to choose.  Within several months, our dossier of paperwork would be in the process to bring home our oldest, Madison.

My Dad


I can literally count on one hand, the number of people that I admire.  One of those people is my father.  This is not really a surprise statement for a son to make.  But to me, and to  my dad, it is not something that had been planned.

I grew up in a split home, my parents divorced when I was three.  It was a stereotypical divorce, nasty, and controversial child custody battle.  To add to this tension, visitations were very infrequent, every other weekend as mandated by the courts.  According to my mother, he could visit any time during the week that he wanted, but it never happened.  And so it became fodder as I grew up hating him.  It culminated with my high school graduation, which he chose not to attend.  It had become the final straw as I warned him, there could be no excuse if he missed my graduation.

My whole senior year in high school, a dear friend of mine had always encouraged me to make amends with him, to not be so hard on him.  I could not possibly be aware of all the circumstances that might be behind his decisions.  After the empty seat at my graduation, as far as I was concerned it was done.

A couple of years passed by, when I was invited to a special occasion.  After years together, my dad decided to marry my stepmother.  I was invited to the wedding, and accepted again at the urging of another friend.  Later that evening, my father reached out to me, with the most heartfelt apology I  may ever have received in my life.  He expressed that he could not make up for the past that he was not there for, but wanted the opportunity to be a part of my life now.  This was a huge moment to us as it definitely was the beginning of a new relationship, and a new perspective of the man I would once again call “dad”.

As many children of divorce can attest to, when we get raised by one parent, there is a tendency to only be able to hear one side of the story.  It was no exception for me.  It would be emphasized by other family members as well.  But in all the years that my dad and I made amends, never, NEVER has he ever made any comment about my mother.  To this day, even at age 46, I still have no idea what led to my parents get divorced.  Wendy does not understand this, but I really do not want to know.  It can only harm what I have left.  It would have no impact on Wendy or our daughters.  Better left alone.  The fact is, we had the opportunity to change our relationship, and it was one of the best decisions in my life.

A tragedy would occur just days before Christmas many years ago.  Following an argument, my stepmother walked out of the house, my father following behind her by several steps.  I was not there when it happened, but I could view the accident of the car careening into my stepmother as she crossed the darkened street.  My sister-in-law called me later that evening to tell me the news.  Her injuries were severe and life threatening.  She faced months of medical support and care and rehab until one day, should would eventually be released either home, or into a home.  Part punitive, guilt, and commitment to “better or worse, sickness and health”, my father chose to care for my stepmother in his home.

Decades have passed.  They still live together in their small and modest house.  Several years ago, my father had a very severe heart attack while at work, putting my stepmother’s care at risk.  He survived yet another crisis and was back caring for her again.  Just as my father, I am currently in my second marriage.  I too have faced several severe crisis in my life.  But it is my father that I admire most for his dedication and commitment to my stepmother.  In spite of the odds and the challenges, he has been there for her every day and every night.  He does so lovingly, never, NEVER complaining about it.  We speak several times a week, usually by his phone call to me, to check up on me and see that I am okay because of everything I deal with health-wise.  He wants to spend time with his grandchildren and does a great job as “pop pop”, something I never had the chance to experience from him as a parent.  For all the people who have made discoveries, achieved levels of personal rewards, leaders of government, it is my dad that is one of the most courageous, dedicated, admirable people anyone would ever be blessed to meet.

A Special Little Girl


I will not use real names for this post because currently, the situation right now is too emotional for so many in our circle to deal with.

CindyLou is a very special little girl.  She was adopted with my oldest.  We have made it a point to see each other as often as possible, in spite of the great distance of three state borders.  For eight years now, both CindyLou and Madison have seen each other multiple times a year.  Each time, new memories were developed, and a stronger bond grew between both.  Madison is my daughter, and she is adopted from China.  So unfortunately, when it comes to discussing “birth” or biological family, we do not really possess any kind of information.  We were successful in finding out who exactly (foster family) raised Madison the first year of her life.  In fact, we found out that Madison had a crib mate for the last three months there, a little girl now living in Scotlan.  We also keep in touch with her family and come to find out exactly how influential the foster family was as both girls bear a lot of commonalities with each other in personalities and interests.

But getting back to CindyLou, I have only known her to be a happy and energetic little girl.  She excels in everything she attempts, in fact challenges herself to compete against children older than her.  And this is just for the fun of it.

But CindyLou also has a huge heart of gold.  A couple of months ago, when our golden retriever Pollo fell ill and things did not look well for him, CindyLou did something extraordinary.  CindyLou and her family came up to visit us for the weekend, and we decided to take a trip to Manhattan and do some sightseeing.  One of the places her mother wanted to visit was St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  Pollo was taken to the vet hospital the day before and this little girl knew how sad and distracted I was.  While inside St. Patrick’s, CindyLou lit a candle for Pollo.  Of all the people or issues or events, she chose to say a prayer for my box of rocks, my 12 year old dog.  We were up in New York having a nice leisurely day, and this nine-year old still held in her heart, that I was worried about Pollo.

Nearly two months later, that small heart would be challenged.  A few days ago, upon arriving home from school, her dog was found quite ill.  He had already been to the vet just days earlier, and remembering some of my conversations about Pollo while they were visiting, they appropriately ordered the vet staff to spare nothing in finding out  what was wrong.  Nothing could be diagnosed and sent home.  But now, his condition had gotten so bad.  CindyLou’s mother was now faced with the one of the most difficult decisions concerning a pet, euthanasia.  The truth was, his chest cavity was flooding with fluid preventing his heart from beating appropriately, not allowing his lungs to expand as needed.  CindyLou curled up with her dog on the floor and held him as the drugs were being administered.  Even under the circumstance, and the pending result, CindyLou’s priority was still to provide comfort to her fine furry friend.  And then proceeded to console her younger sister.

We spoke the next night, and clearly, I had never heard that child cry before, and now I did hear, also her mother.  I do not know if they will get another dog or not, I hope so.  A pet could not be loved more than by these girls.

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