Tomorrow my dad is having heart surgery. I have spent this weekend contemplating my wide assortment of feelings. If I had known him my whole life would I be even more worried than I am now? I think I’m pretty much worried to my maximum capacity.
My relationship with my father has been like a see-saw since I was born. There have been many ups and downs.
My mother and father never married. In fact shortly after I was conceived they broke things off. It wasn’t a drama-filled break up. Things just fizzled out. My mom didn’t realize she was pregnant with me. There were times she thought there might be a possibility that she was pregnant, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had many other things to worry about.
Then the day came where she couldn’t deny the pregnancy any longer. She was in labor. She labored most of the day at home and finally drove to the hospital. Instead of driving to the county hospital which was about ten minutes away she drove across the state line to a hospital that was twenty-five miles away to maintain her anonymity.
She walked into the hospital, declared she thought she was having a baby and they wheeled her to delivery. On the way there she expressed her desire to give me up for adoption. She had thought on this for awhile. She simply could not afford to raise a newborn baby when she had a thirteen year old son to care for while working as a bartender and going back to college. Twenty minutes later I was born.
There are a lot of details to this story, but to make this a little shorter, I’ll omit some. I was put in foster care for 15 days. During that time my mother did a lot of thinking and praying. She figured I’d be much better off with another family. She didn’t feel like she could afford to give me a good and stable life. My birth was kept a secret for a few days, but when it came to signing the adoption papers, my father had to be involved to sign away his parental rights. My father insisted that my mother was doing the right thing in giving me up for adoption.
The days went by. For the first time in years my mom went to Mass. She remembered the homily was about abortion. Now abortion was light years away from my mom’s mind- remember she didn’t even feel or think she was pregnant. But the homily touched her. She thought long and hard about what her priorities were. Was she giving me up because she was scared? Was she making her decision for the right reasons?
Then the 96-hour rule came into play. That meant she could change her mind and keep me- no question asked. After a lot more prayer and thinking she decided that she would keep me. She didn’t need cable TV. She didn’t need her car- she could borrow her father’s car. Her daughter was more important than material things.
This story just proves that my mom is the most heroic and the most strong-willed woman I know.
She was at peace with her decision. 18 days after I was born, I came home on my mom’s birthday. Our family was complete and our extended family and friends were thrilled.
My dad on the other hand was less than thrilled. He was downright furious. He made sure my mom knew that she would be getting absolutely no support from him. My mother wasn’t too upset- she had a newborn daughter to care for.
I grew up wondering who my father was. My mom never talked about him, and for some reason, I never asked about him. The only thing I really knew was his first and last name. (Mom had obviously kept my last name the same as hers.) My friends and I would speculate what he was like. Maybe he was a millionaire. Perhaps he owned Disney Land! (I was a big dreamer as a child.)
When Father’s Day would roll around I was usually in a bummed out mood because I had no father to send a card to. I remember fretting when I was old enough to realize that the man who was supposed to walk the bride down the aisle was the bride’s father. I quickly came the conclusion that my big brother would be perfect for the job, since he had been like a father to me for so many years. He did a wonderful job walking me down the aisle at my wedding in April, cracking jokes the whole way!
One day, when I was about ten years old I was looking through my baby book and saw that I had a half-sister named Sierra. That piqued my curiosity. So I went looking through the phone book to see if there was anyone who had the same last name as my dad's. To my surprise I found one! I felt in my heart that the name I was looking at my father’s name and address. (I found out much later that the name I was looking at was my grandfather’s.)
A year later my wonderings about my father had basically faded away. I was worried and focused on those things that eleven year olds dwell on (what were those things…I can’t even remember anymore!) One day my mom took me to see the movie Twister. On the way there she told me that my father had called her and said he wanted to be a part of my life. She then proceeded to tell me the story of my birth- the uncertainty of her pregnancy, the near adoption, and my father’s abandonment.
I was beyond excited and happy. Finally the day had come when all my questions regarding my father were answered! And he wanted to get to know me and be a part of my life! I finally “got” a dad!
A couple weeks passed and I finally met him. He was no debonair millionaire. He didn’t show up saying, “Surprise! I own Disney World!” He was a regular guy working as a millwright. But to me, he was great.
When he came into my life I got a whole new family. I had grandparents (both of my mom’s parents had sadly passed away many years before.) I had a step-mom and a step brother and sister. (They have since divorced.) My half sister whose name I found in my baby book had a son- I was an aunt! It was like Christmas. I felt so happy and relieved to have this missing chapter of my life answered.
Over the years my dad and I somewhat drifted apart. He was on the road traveling a lot, so we rarely saw each other. We sent letters back and forth, but when I hit my teenage years, I became too busy to keep in touch.
It was during my high school years that I started to get a twinge of resentment and anger toward my dad. I faced a lot of typical heartbreak a young girl encounters. A boy tells me he loves me and will love me forever. The next day he’s flirting with some other bimbo at a basketball game. A friend of mine tells me that so-and-so has a crush on me and is going to ask me to the homecoming dance. That invitation never comes and I come to find out he never had a crush on me. It was those feelings of abandonment that reminded me that I had been abandoned by men since I was born.
I was lucky enough to have wonderful father figures in my life while growing up, but for some reason my father’s abandonment hit me hard when I was a teenager. The one man that should have been there wasn’t. I looked at how he treated my mother. My heartbreak was nowhere near the amount of anguish she must have felt. Despite all this my father still kept in contact with me. However, this man I was so excited to become a part of my life a couple years before soon became a figure of confusion.
I began to question my worth. All these boys in high school kept breaking my heart. My own father had broken my heart. I began to question what true love from a man was supposed to feel like.
Fast forward to a couple years: I had started college. Then quit. Then started another college. I still kept in touch with him, but very little. I was in a very confused and selfish phase of my life, so he had nothing to do with the very little contact. That was my fault.
I think the turning point for my relationship with my father was when I had my “spiritual growth spurt.” I could tell he was very happy that I had turned my life around for the better. Then my grandfather passed away a couple years ago. That brought us even closer together. Many friends and family came together to celebrate my grandfather's life and it felt good to be introduced as “John’s daughter.” It was a rough time for both of us, but we gave each other comfort.
I think the real stepping stone for me to forgive my father was through my mom. She told me the truth about how she felt about everything, but she never said anything to make me dislike my father. She first and foremost left the decision for him to be a part of my life up to me, but encouraged me to open my heart to him. There were times when mom would suggest to me I should call my dad to wish him a happy birthday and I would yell in a voice filled with disdain, “Why should I?!” She would answer, “He’s your father. Without him you wouldn’t be here!” So true, yet I conveniently chose to overlook that fact. My dad was supposed to escort my grandmother down the aisle at my wedding, but due to ill health she couldn’t come. He had no role in the wedding since my brother was going to walk me down the aisle. It was my mom who suggested that my dad escort her down the aisle. That shows how forgiving and loving my mom is. It was through her example I found myself rethinking how I saw my father.
We all make mistakes. Lord knows I’ve made a gajillion of them. My father apologized for his and tried to make up for them. No one is perfect. Forgiveness is hard. Sometimes it is easier to stay angry. There have been a couple times even in the past couple years I’ve felt a pull to grow back a little resentment. However, God expects us to forgive as He does. Its right there in the Our Father- “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” And to be perfectly honest- it feels good not to harbor resentment. It feels good to let my dad in my life. It felt good to see him and his brothers at my wedding, to see him in the stands at my graduation, and to hear his sorrow and support when we told him we lost our baby.
I don’t think my dad was expecting me to come be with him while he has his surgery. We’re nearly two hours apart. However, I can’t imagine not being there.
So I ask again, please pray for my dad while he is in surgery. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!
My relationship with my father has been like a see-saw since I was born. There have been many ups and downs.
My mother and father never married. In fact shortly after I was conceived they broke things off. It wasn’t a drama-filled break up. Things just fizzled out. My mom didn’t realize she was pregnant with me. There were times she thought there might be a possibility that she was pregnant, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had many other things to worry about.
Then the day came where she couldn’t deny the pregnancy any longer. She was in labor. She labored most of the day at home and finally drove to the hospital. Instead of driving to the county hospital which was about ten minutes away she drove across the state line to a hospital that was twenty-five miles away to maintain her anonymity.
She walked into the hospital, declared she thought she was having a baby and they wheeled her to delivery. On the way there she expressed her desire to give me up for adoption. She had thought on this for awhile. She simply could not afford to raise a newborn baby when she had a thirteen year old son to care for while working as a bartender and going back to college. Twenty minutes later I was born.
There are a lot of details to this story, but to make this a little shorter, I’ll omit some. I was put in foster care for 15 days. During that time my mother did a lot of thinking and praying. She figured I’d be much better off with another family. She didn’t feel like she could afford to give me a good and stable life. My birth was kept a secret for a few days, but when it came to signing the adoption papers, my father had to be involved to sign away his parental rights. My father insisted that my mother was doing the right thing in giving me up for adoption.
The days went by. For the first time in years my mom went to Mass. She remembered the homily was about abortion. Now abortion was light years away from my mom’s mind- remember she didn’t even feel or think she was pregnant. But the homily touched her. She thought long and hard about what her priorities were. Was she giving me up because she was scared? Was she making her decision for the right reasons?
Then the 96-hour rule came into play. That meant she could change her mind and keep me- no question asked. After a lot more prayer and thinking she decided that she would keep me. She didn’t need cable TV. She didn’t need her car- she could borrow her father’s car. Her daughter was more important than material things.
This story just proves that my mom is the most heroic and the most strong-willed woman I know.
She was at peace with her decision. 18 days after I was born, I came home on my mom’s birthday. Our family was complete and our extended family and friends were thrilled.
My dad on the other hand was less than thrilled. He was downright furious. He made sure my mom knew that she would be getting absolutely no support from him. My mother wasn’t too upset- she had a newborn daughter to care for.
I grew up wondering who my father was. My mom never talked about him, and for some reason, I never asked about him. The only thing I really knew was his first and last name. (Mom had obviously kept my last name the same as hers.) My friends and I would speculate what he was like. Maybe he was a millionaire. Perhaps he owned Disney Land! (I was a big dreamer as a child.)
When Father’s Day would roll around I was usually in a bummed out mood because I had no father to send a card to. I remember fretting when I was old enough to realize that the man who was supposed to walk the bride down the aisle was the bride’s father. I quickly came the conclusion that my big brother would be perfect for the job, since he had been like a father to me for so many years. He did a wonderful job walking me down the aisle at my wedding in April, cracking jokes the whole way!
One day, when I was about ten years old I was looking through my baby book and saw that I had a half-sister named Sierra. That piqued my curiosity. So I went looking through the phone book to see if there was anyone who had the same last name as my dad's. To my surprise I found one! I felt in my heart that the name I was looking at my father’s name and address. (I found out much later that the name I was looking at was my grandfather’s.)
A year later my wonderings about my father had basically faded away. I was worried and focused on those things that eleven year olds dwell on (what were those things…I can’t even remember anymore!) One day my mom took me to see the movie Twister. On the way there she told me that my father had called her and said he wanted to be a part of my life. She then proceeded to tell me the story of my birth- the uncertainty of her pregnancy, the near adoption, and my father’s abandonment.
I was beyond excited and happy. Finally the day had come when all my questions regarding my father were answered! And he wanted to get to know me and be a part of my life! I finally “got” a dad!
A couple weeks passed and I finally met him. He was no debonair millionaire. He didn’t show up saying, “Surprise! I own Disney World!” He was a regular guy working as a millwright. But to me, he was great.
When he came into my life I got a whole new family. I had grandparents (both of my mom’s parents had sadly passed away many years before.) I had a step-mom and a step brother and sister. (They have since divorced.) My half sister whose name I found in my baby book had a son- I was an aunt! It was like Christmas. I felt so happy and relieved to have this missing chapter of my life answered.
Over the years my dad and I somewhat drifted apart. He was on the road traveling a lot, so we rarely saw each other. We sent letters back and forth, but when I hit my teenage years, I became too busy to keep in touch.
It was during my high school years that I started to get a twinge of resentment and anger toward my dad. I faced a lot of typical heartbreak a young girl encounters. A boy tells me he loves me and will love me forever. The next day he’s flirting with some other bimbo at a basketball game. A friend of mine tells me that so-and-so has a crush on me and is going to ask me to the homecoming dance. That invitation never comes and I come to find out he never had a crush on me. It was those feelings of abandonment that reminded me that I had been abandoned by men since I was born.
I was lucky enough to have wonderful father figures in my life while growing up, but for some reason my father’s abandonment hit me hard when I was a teenager. The one man that should have been there wasn’t. I looked at how he treated my mother. My heartbreak was nowhere near the amount of anguish she must have felt. Despite all this my father still kept in contact with me. However, this man I was so excited to become a part of my life a couple years before soon became a figure of confusion.
I began to question my worth. All these boys in high school kept breaking my heart. My own father had broken my heart. I began to question what true love from a man was supposed to feel like.
Fast forward to a couple years: I had started college. Then quit. Then started another college. I still kept in touch with him, but very little. I was in a very confused and selfish phase of my life, so he had nothing to do with the very little contact. That was my fault.
I think the turning point for my relationship with my father was when I had my “spiritual growth spurt.” I could tell he was very happy that I had turned my life around for the better. Then my grandfather passed away a couple years ago. That brought us even closer together. Many friends and family came together to celebrate my grandfather's life and it felt good to be introduced as “John’s daughter.” It was a rough time for both of us, but we gave each other comfort.
I think the real stepping stone for me to forgive my father was through my mom. She told me the truth about how she felt about everything, but she never said anything to make me dislike my father. She first and foremost left the decision for him to be a part of my life up to me, but encouraged me to open my heart to him. There were times when mom would suggest to me I should call my dad to wish him a happy birthday and I would yell in a voice filled with disdain, “Why should I?!” She would answer, “He’s your father. Without him you wouldn’t be here!” So true, yet I conveniently chose to overlook that fact. My dad was supposed to escort my grandmother down the aisle at my wedding, but due to ill health she couldn’t come. He had no role in the wedding since my brother was going to walk me down the aisle. It was my mom who suggested that my dad escort her down the aisle. That shows how forgiving and loving my mom is. It was through her example I found myself rethinking how I saw my father.
We all make mistakes. Lord knows I’ve made a gajillion of them. My father apologized for his and tried to make up for them. No one is perfect. Forgiveness is hard. Sometimes it is easier to stay angry. There have been a couple times even in the past couple years I’ve felt a pull to grow back a little resentment. However, God expects us to forgive as He does. Its right there in the Our Father- “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” And to be perfectly honest- it feels good not to harbor resentment. It feels good to let my dad in my life. It felt good to see him and his brothers at my wedding, to see him in the stands at my graduation, and to hear his sorrow and support when we told him we lost our baby.
I don’t think my dad was expecting me to come be with him while he has his surgery. We’re nearly two hours apart. However, I can’t imagine not being there.
So I ask again, please pray for my dad while he is in surgery. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!
7 comments:
You really are extremely blessed with such a good example in your mother! Thanks for sharing this difficult story with us. I will certainly say a prayer for your father.
I am choking up as I read this. I'm so grateful that you've been able to come to a place of forgiveness and peace with your dad. I pray he will have a successful surgery.
It's very hard to forgive when someone who is supposed to love us hurts us so deeply. I did not forgive my father for abandoning me until about three years ago. It took a long time and lots of angry, tearful rants in God's general direction for me to be able to forgive.
I can now pray for my dad, and hope that in his life he has gotten right with God, but, I have no desire to have in my life at all. As far as a dad is concerned, my grandpa is my dad. :)
Thanks for posting this!!
I had a lot of tearful rants to God too. A LOT! It's so wonderful that you have a dad in your grandfather. I had that with my brother and uncles. I pray especially hard for those people, especially women, who have no father or even father figures in their lives.
I think we have ALOT more in common than we think! I felt like I was reading some of my own story! Thanks for sharing! Prayers are with you and your Dad. God Bless!
Thanks for sharing your story. As you know, I had my own abandonment to deal with my own father...I'm so glad you had the example of forgiveness in your mother! She sounds like an extraordinary lady.
Prayers for you, your family, and especially those operating on and caring for your father.
What an amazing outlook, really! Prayers for you and your father!
Wow, what a story! I hope everything goes well for your father. God Bless!
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