So, this is another one that could be a bit touchy. Go easy.
In my life, throughout whatever foolish, extraordinary or generally improbable things that I’ve suffered and/or accomplished, I’ve always felt like I’ve been able to reset things if I didn’t like how they were going.
I’ve made liberal use of this.
For example, when I was floundering in “school” in Brenham, TX, I simply bailed on the whole business and moved to a schooner in Baltimore for a couple years. Or when I was stuck in a terrible relationship, I simply severed all ties and went snowboarding, rock climbing, lake sailing, backpacking through Europe, etc. for a year to get my head straight. Or when I was about to be evicted from my townhouse in Logan (primarily due to the idiocy of my roommate), I simply packed up and left in the middle of the night, leaving a note that laughingly dared the leasing company to come find me.
Auto loans, lease agreements, bad jobs/bosses, clingy girls, homelessness, police involvement… All were a chance to perform yet another of my great escapes, after which I’d pause to “ta-da!” and leave the world wondering how in the hell I just pulled it off. (For a more recent example of this, see my debt-defying boat sale maneuver.)
I’ve never feared doing whatever the hell I want, because I’m wholly confident that I can always undo it on the other side if I decide I don’t like it. Even things like my mortgage, or my marriage, could be undone. (I most certainly don’t want them to, but the simple fact is that they could be.) And this feeling has been my propellent. It’s the thing that’s pushed me into all the random and unlikely feats that have made me the guy I know and love.
But this? Having a child?
This is the very first thing in my life that I can’t escape. The first thing I can’t make disappear in a cloud of laughter (or tears), and tire smoke.
The first thing that I can’t undo.
And, right now anyway, I think that’s what frightens me the most about it.
Actually, you could. You could leave her at the fire station. You just wouldn’t be able to tell yourself you’re still an awesome guy.
Somehow I don’t think you’ll want to do that.
See, that’s just it. Even if I did that (and I obviously never would), she’d still be *my* daughter. Even if I never saw her again, that wouldn’t stop being true.
This is a forever thing.
So you’re describing a biological reality as opposed to a practical one. There are a lot of men who abandon their kids and probably feel like they’ve hit “reset” very successfully, since their offspring have zero presence in their day-to-day lives and are therefore essentially dead to them.
But this whole discussion is irrelevant because you will never abandon Daphne. Nor, I think, will you want to hit reset. 🙂
Wait. Not that our marriage isn’t a “forever thing.” (I’m digging a hole here…)
Let’s say, for example, that you gave me the Moon Door. Undoubtedly you would find another husband who was (very nearly) as handsome, brilliant, witty, and humble as I was. I’d be replaced and, aside from the occasional wistful anecdote involving little green toy soldiers, would cease to be a thing in your life.
Becoming a parent seems different somehow. There’s a strange permanence about it.
The “forever” part is what makes being a parent so special and unlike anything else. 🙂
You will love her more than you can imagine,
Sally is right. I have …. and will continue to love you forever … You will do the same… Even when Daphne tries to “escape”