I was on the phone chatting with my mother for a couple of hours today. One of many things we discussed was gossip about what had become of various childhood friends and playmates of mine, and she mentioned some girls who had gone on to have babies by a different father each time (with the implication that these girls/women had gotten into their share of trouble and/or had a rough time of things). I reminded her that each of my children has had a different biological father; she laughed and said, "Actually, I had never thought of that!" To tell the truth, I don't think about it much, either.
My children may have different genetic makeups, but truly, they only have one father. There's only one man who has been there to read them bedtime stories every night, only one man who has helped with homework, cooked dinner more than his fair share of evenings after mom's come home tired from the lab, taken them to the library, gone to elementary school music shows, and done his best to pitch in with laundry, scrubbing, supervising bathtime and tooth-brushing, etc. David is my dearest love, and the dearest father I've ever seen.
He married me and took Sarah under his wing, eventually legally adopting her when Sarah's biological father signed away his rights. Dave was the one clapping and cheering when Sarah learned how to ride her bike this summer (we had really stretched the training-wheel window, and we told her this year that she was just too big to have training wheels). So - her birthday money went to a nice new bicycle, and she learned to balance in a whole TWO DAYS. (I'm glad it was so short, because I did my fair share of running behind the bike holding her seat level, too!) Now she goes on rides all over the neighborhood - usually with her dad. We've also been going out on the lake with our canoe a bit recently - here's a picture of Sarah in the front seat (I paddled in back), happily gliding through the water around sunset. Dad was at home with the two young ones, giving Sarah and I some time to be together.
Being with Sarah since she was two, and realizing that he really could be "dad" and do a good job of it, helped Dave feel good about having another baby. We conceived Genevieve a little over a year after we were married, and I realized that pregnancy could really be a wonderful thing with a supportive partner. He came to birthing classes, and gave backrubs, and rubbed my feet, and cooked and cleaned and took care of cat box duty. He laughed when the baby kicked his hand off of my tummy, and smiled when he saw the ultrasound (we could tell Gennie had big cheeks even then)! He was right by my side for labor, and held my hand during contractions. Towards the end, when the pain was worst, I was even grabbing the rim of his pants pockets so I didn't squeeze his hands off; he took it all in stride. He awkwardly held Genevieve, who was all bruised and red and wrinkly after the birth (which was quick, but rough!) and looked at her in awe. Gennie was his first and only newborn, and before long, he picked her up with ease and changed diapers with the best of them. We lived on rather little sleep for the next couple of years. Genevieve was as bright and sunny (and stubborn and willful) at 3 am as she was at 3 pm; something that took a while to resolve! She would walk around to Dave's side of the bed in the middle of the night, and cheerfully exclaim, "Hi, Dad!" And Dave didn't yell, he would just sigh and say, "Hi, Gen." as he escorted her back down the hall. Again.
I had looked into adoption when we were considering having Genevieve. I really wanted to adopt. And I was pretty sure I wanted to adopt from China, for a plethora of reasons, not the least of which was that I knew waiting kids really needed me. I wasn't old enough, though (age 30 is minimum for China), and I did want to have the experience of being pregnant one more time. So I got plump instead of a passport.
About a year before my 30th birthday, I basically had a breakdown, and told Dave that I REALLY wanted to adopt as soon as possible. Well, lack of sleep with our last child was still fresh in his mind, and he really wasn't sure about adding more kids to what already felt like a very busy life. A year went by, the kids got another year older, he got another year more comfortable with the idea, we got more sleep, and he decided to take that leap of faith with me. Because he loved me, and because he knew that he could love another child.
And he has done so. Really well. Eleanor took to her Baba first (smart move), before I could even get close to her. While I am often the parental unit of choice these days (simply because I'm at work less), she knows that her Baba is game for story-reading, to get a snack, to help her put her shoes on, you name it. And she receives as much care from him as she does from me. Eleanor has recently refused to speak Chinese at all, and has told me in no uncertain terms that she is "Eleanor, Mom. Not He Zitao." I have asked if she wants to call her Zhonggua Mama and Baba (foster parents); and she says "Not yet." I hope the pendulum will swing the other way when she realizes that she is safe and secure with us, that we will always, always be here. I am very grateful that she had a Zhonggua Baba, for he taught Eleanor what having a Dad is all about, and he was the one who wept when she left with us (such a hard day!) And now David is the forever Daddy. Forever Daddy will be going to the Dragon Boat Festival and the Boulder Asian Festival with his new daughter this summer (we're coming too!), hoping that Eleanor will remember that she can love both places, she can love all her families.
I watch David in action, and sometimes my eyes do tear up thinking about how much I adore this man. You wouldn't think he'd be the type: a somewhat awkward and anxious Ph.D., who when he first tentatively picked up two-year-old Sarah (at my request), held her like she was radioactive. (Of course, her diapers were sometimes close to radioactive...) He really stepped up to the plate, learned that children could actually be fun, and is the go-to guy for every weird question under the sun (this man KNOWS why the sky is blue, and what stars are made of!) I snuggle up to him every night, and am so glad that he is with me, and that he will be the one to cradle our grandchildren someday.
Happy Father's Day, sweetheart. I love you.
