Every Man Needs A Daughter

When I talk about regret nowadays, I encourage friends and family to avoid the feelings of hopelessness and failure that presides over everything when regret engulfs our lives.

It is something that can completely change who you are in an instant and evoke some of the worst self-reflection you can imagine.

Growing up an only child, my days were filled with a lot of self-reflection from talking to myself, imagining my mom and dad were still together and planning to give me a brother or sister to play with, or building with LEGOs - machines and worlds that were far from empty. I controlled that self-reflection or at least I felt like I did, and it was never critical or reprimanded me for getting something wrong.

I really never knew regret.

My faith and religion advocates forgiveness, and not just of others, you yourself are included in the scope of that philosophy as well. So when I came across regret, it ran me over like nothing I had ever felt before.

I have four beautiful multiracial children with my wife and friend, Melissa. We live in a small community outside Indianapolis, and we are both working parents, aspiring to reach greater more fulfilling endeavors.

Our oldest child, KJ, is almost five years older than her oldest sibling.

She was the only child for a good while before her brother was born, and those were some of the best times in our lives as a family.

But it took us a lot of tears, yelling, hurt, a few 911 calls, a suicide attempt and losing a job and a home to get there.

When I met Melissa, I was completely enamored with her. Everything she did was intriguing to me, and I just really wanted to be around her.

A month or two after meeting her we started seeing each other everywhere, and soon after that, we were everywhere together. Our friends started noticing how we couldn’t stop smiling at each other. Melissa hadn’t been that happy in a long time, and I was more and more into her every time we were around each other. I just wanted to be near her. When we started dating it almost didn’t seem like it was really happening. But it was something that neither one of us expected. Maybe that’s why we didn’t understand how to handle things getting sensitive regarding our exes. We decided to take a break and try to salvage our friendship. It was a Thursday in mid May, Melissa called me to tell she had something important to tell me.

She told me she was pregnant.

I was shocked.

I was mad.

I thought why now, and how could this happen.

We had moments that our connection couldn’t be more special or affectionate, but lately it had seemed that we were moving away from each other - hence the mutual break-up.

When she said those words her eyes said it all - she was scared not just for her but for the baby that just started growing inside her body.

My reaction and answer didn’t help, and I should have been more compassionate and mature, but I was still keeping things comfortable in my life.

No room for growth and maturity, not here.

Melissa was 100% in a different direction. She was scared because she knew she couldn’t depend on me, and for once in her life she knew she had to depend on someone she knew she could and would let her and her baby down.

Everyone we knew was excited and completely happy for Melissa. Even her dad who had reservations about his daughter dating outside her race, was anxious for her. But she was glowing almost immediately, and she expected that I would be naturally excited to be a dad and raise this divine soul with her.

I had reservations too. I didn’t believe her, I didn’t want to believe her. I was a jerk and I thought she lying about the whole thing.

A few years before meeting Melissa, I had an ex-girlfriend tell me she was pregnant with my child. So when Melissa told me she was pregnant, my mind went there. Dumb, I know now, but then it made too much sense.

I let the confusion and uncertainty from my past dictate my present.

Melissa wanted to reconcile, make amends for what we had done to each other before she was pregnant.

“It’s important for the baby to have both of us, I don’t want anything from you, just that for the baby.”

I was dismissive regarding what she said about not needing me. I was petty and it only fueled my thinking towards her even more.

She had her first appointment and I wasn’t available to go - she told me last minute because she wasn’t sure she could be around me.

I felt guilt and shame from not being there for her, but it was summertime, and she was doing things like everything was good, so I convinced myself she needed me even less.

We talked about an upcoming checkup with OB and she was giving me a head’s up so I could make sure I could be available. I had an interview with a great company, something that would allow me to support Melissa and the baby well.

Melissa was still upset that I couldn’t be there, but she understood and wished me good luck.

That was probably the last real conversation we had.

She was still in the first trimester when our communication, my communication dropped off. I stopped calling her, texting her, being in her life period.

I would see her every Friday to give her a few dollars, and she was always so happy when I was leaving her job.

Yes, she worked while pregnant until she was forced to go to the emergency room because she was light headed and dizzy.

She drove herself.

When she was in labor, she got her taxes done and had a job interview.

When Melissa started having contractions, she went to the hospital and was in labor for 17 hours before giving the safe word to administer an epidural.

She had decided to have her babygirl naturally, but it was taking so long to meet her daughter, and she was exhausted - she made the call. Three hours later , a beautiful little girl opened her eyes for the first time and had the single sweetest cry you would ever know. But I heard the newness of her little voice from outside the delivery room.

She came into this cold world and the first relative she met wasn’t her daddy.

I didn’t think of it at the time, but I didn’t deserve to be in there if I was doing anything besides figuring things out with her momma.

A few minutes passed, and the heavy wooden door opened slightly and one of Melissa’s close friends looked at me, and said “Jason...Melissa is asking for you.”

I walked in and could feel my daughter’s presence, but I felt something else there too.

Melissa was holding her and the two of them were looking into each other’s eyes for the first time.

I felt like a stranger in my own body, in addition to intruding on a mother and daughter sharing their first intimate moments together.

I would hold my daughter for the first time and at that moment I realized that my ego and my selfishness had dissolved my bond with her.

Melissa and I would gradually, albeit painfully, get back to square one, where would be able to be in the same room with each other.

Our babygirl would grow and learn, she would make us laugh and cry, and she had the best parts of us both.

Keira did more than just keep two best friends together, she made us fall in love with what was left from a time, a short time in our lives that everything about us was perfect.

The smallest fragments of us could destroy everything we are, or unite us stronger than ever, and that’s what being parents to Keira did for us.

Melissa and I would get married and have three more babies. We were in a much better place and I was blessed and fortunate to be at almost every appointment, each delivery, I cut each one of their umbilical cords, held them as soon as I could get them away from the nurses, and I held Melissa’s hand and helped keep her spirits when she courageously gave birth to each of them.

With Keira I have all of those moments as stories only, and I know them from hearing about it second hand. It’s something I had to accept as my fault and I had to live with that regret and resulting shame. It used to make me upset when Melissa would remind me so indelicately when we were having an argument or fight. But eventually I was able to stand the heat from my actions, and hear the hurt that she was still feeling from that time in our lives.

Keira is 11 now and I couldn’t be prouder of the woman she is turning into.

I am also proud of the man I have become, because I am becoming the dad she deserves.