LOST YEARS

The father looked down on the new arrival, not sure really what to think or feel other than feeling a deep sense of disillusionment. He wanted a boy, a son in his image, but unfortunately, this one was wrapped in pink. Another one of his dreams out the window. Par for the course, he thought. None of his dreams ever came true, so why should this one? His whole life had been one slap down after another, disappointment after disappointment. It was as if his sole purpose here on earth was to be life's punching bag, and he just received another punch in the gut.

Raised to believe it was best if the firstborn was a boy. A boy to carry on the name, to be the man of the house, to guide and watch over the women in the absence of a patriarch. He continued with his self-pitying, pessimistic self-talk for several minutes until interrupted by a hospital volunteer asking him which of the newborns belonged to him? He pointed to his little lady. "She's beautiful," said the volunteer, and he politely smiled, although a comment about beauty was not what he needed to hear right now. He did not want beauty or cuteness or sweet. No, he would have preferred just the opposite - tough and robust.

For almost nine months, he had fantasized about this moment. The moment he would first lay eyes on his son and the feeling of joy and anticipation over what was to come. Teaching the boy how to ride a bike, shoot a BB gun, throw a curveball, and cast a fishing rod. Watching him grow into a fine baseball player or maybe quarterback the high school team. He was so looking forward to the day when he could brag about his son's accomplishments, to show his enormous pride in having raised a son to be a success. All that was now gone, vanished as soon as he heard the words "You have a baby girl," and in his narrow focus of possibilities, pride was reserved for sons, not daughters.

After checking on his wife, he returned to their small apartment, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before work. Sleep would be a welcome contrast to all the hospital activity of the last 24 hours. And perhaps once he closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber, he could forget his disappointment over having fathered a daughter rather than a son. He could not shake the ever-growing sense of letdown, and now he hated the thought of going to work where he would have to tell the guys that his wife gave birth to a girl and not a son. For months all the men he worked with had been asking about the 'little fella' going so far as to create a "little junior" time and date pool. And the worse part was yet to come. He dreaded hearing the letdown in his father's voice when he told him the new arrival was a granddaughter and not a grandson. The phone call would be excruciatingly painful. Perhaps even more gut-wrenching than when he had to tell his father he would not be playing football because he failed to make the cut. Once again, he felt like he had let everyone down. Once again, he had failed.

For the next year, his life proceeded much as it had been before the birth of his daughter. His wife took care of the baby, and he did his duty by working hard and bringing home the paycheck. There was no need or desire to bond with his daughter. Consequently, there was little interaction between the two of them. Occasionally he would lift her over his head until she let out a squeal of laughter. At those times, he momentarily found himself drawn to the little one. But it took only a second to self-sabotage this connection. Only a second to remind himself this baby was the one who robbed him of a son.

When his wife became pregnant again, his hope for a boy was once more ignited. His mood improved, and even interactions with his daughter increased. For the first time he took her to the park, just the two of them. They sat on the bench together, feeding the squirrels and pigeons while watching all the other children play. The little girl seemed to take pleasure in everything, smiling and laughing throughout the whole afternoon. With every giggle, he began to feel something he had denied both to himself and the baby girl. A warmth, an openness to letting her in, a reflection of himself in those beautiful blue eyes. With the hope of a son on the way, he finally permitted himself to see this child for the first time, to recognize her uniqueness, to see her not as a disappointment but merely a child deserving in her own right.

Over the next several months, the two became inseparable. The little girl worshipped him, and he adored his baby girl. In the morning they would have breakfast together before he left for work, and in the evening, she would be waiting at the front window for her daddy to arrive home. A warmth like he had never felt before would come over him when he drove up and saw his baby girl sitting in that big bay window watching for her daddy. That beautiful smile and twinkle in her eye as she greeted him was brighter than any star in the heavens. Now he looked forward to raising a son alongside his daughter.

Three months into the pregnancy, his wife had a miscarriage, and adding to the misfortune was the news she could no longer bear a child. The despair he now felt was total and complete. He had been robbed before and now again. Only this time there was a finality that did not exist before - now there was no chance of a son. At the very time he began to open his heart, to again dream of raising a son, to feel a sense of optimism - all that taken away. Not for anything he had done but simply because his lot in life was to experience one disappointment after another. He dared not dream because his dreams never came true, he dared not hope because hope was reserved for those more deserving. He dared not feel because feeling only resulted in pain.

For the next few years, he retreated into his 'poor me' shell. Merely going through the motions of working, eating, and sleeping. His daughter did not understand the sudden absence of her father. She was too young for logic but not too young to experience feelings of confusion and loss. The outings to the park suddenly stopped, and breakfast was now quiet in contrast to the light-hearted meals they had shared just weeks ago. Waiting at the bay window for her father to come home from work soon became another discarded routine. Her father no longer greeted her with a smile and hug - he just walked past her and shut himself off in the bedroom. She was not old enough to blame herself or to rationalize the change in her daddy's behavior. Like any young child, she adapted to the change, relying more and more on her mother and herself.

It was the first day of kindergarten, and the young girl was excited beyond words. Her love of books started at an early age, and the evening routine of mom reading her a bedtime story was now as much a part of her life as her nightly snack and bath. Her excitement over starting school had been building for the last year, and now that the day had arrived, she could barely contain herself. Two weeks ago, she laid out her first-day outfit along with her pencils, crayons, and writing tablet. Now with the outfit on and her school supplies packed neatly in her bag, she was ready to go. Her mother first insisted on breakfast, which she hastily gulped down and began walking out the back door towards school when called back. "It's starting to rain, better have your dad drive you." said her mother.

She climbed into the front seat as her dad started the car. It was only a short distance to the school, which was a blessing because neither child nor parent knew what to say to the other. She contained her excitement for fear she would get one of those looks - a look he gave her when he simply did not know what to say.

He stopped the car directly in front of the school. The young girl, with school bag in tow, exited the car without saying a word and walked toward the front door. As he watched his daughter walking up the steps, he suddenly became overcome with grief and a sense of sadness, the likes of which he had never felt before. He watched as all the other children were escorted by one or both parents. Holding their little hands for reassurance and hugging them as if this moment were going to be the last opportunity to touch their child. But his little girl walked alone, head held high, one foot in front of the other. It was then that he realized what he had lost and what he had denied his child. He felt ashamed, terribly ashamed for abandoning his precious daughter. Selfishly withholding the love and affection every young child needs. The little girl never complained, never questioned, never ask him for that which he could not give. How brave she was, he thought to himself, how mature and self-reliant. "And what a fool I have been," he thought quietly to himself.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he jumped out of the car and ran into the school, catching up with his daughter. She looked surprised when she saw him running toward her and tried to remember what she possibly could have done wrong. Upon reaching his daughter, he bent down to her level, took her hand, and said, "I forgot to tell you to have a nice day." She stepped back and looked puzzled. Then he said, "And I'll be at the front door waiting to take you home when school is out."

The next few years were makeup years. At first, the young girl was somewhat leery of her father's attempts to become a part of her life. It felt odd finally having a father who would talk to her, read her bedtime stories, or help her look for a lost doll. Slowly a father-daughter bond formed, and pride in his daughter grew with each new interaction, each new shared activity, each new loss, and each new achievement.

He taught his daughter how to swing a golf club, kick a soccer ball, and cast a fishing rod. She loved all these activities, not only for the skills she was acquiring but also for the time spent with her father. She was especially drawn to fishing, with its quiet, contemplative time. And much to dad's chagrin, the daughter almost always won the 'biggest fish' contest.

There were times when he looked back at the lost years, thinking if only they could be relived - how different he would behave towards his daughter. His selfish isolation from his daughter cost him more than it cost her. He lost almost five years of precious memories, five years of some of the most critical times in a person's life. He came close to not surviving, almost losing it all because he refused to let go of suffocating and oppressive thinking. He now realized how foolish he had been to think that having a daughter was somehow a failure. As it turned out, it was the biggest and most significant success of his life.

It was 4:00a.m. when the doctor walked into the waiting room to announce the new arrival. "Who’s the father," he asked. A young nervous-looking young man jumped up immediately and replied, "I am." "Well, you have a healthy son,"' said the doctor. The young man grabbed the doctor's hand, gave it a robust handshake, and said, "thank you." With an ear to ear grin on his face, he turned to his father-in-law and reached out for his hand, saying, "it's a boy." The older gentleman said his compulsory congratulations and felt a sense of relief that his daughter came through the birth without complications. Though deep down inside, he felt slightly conflicted and disappointed. Well, if we are lucky the next one will be a girl, he thought to himself.