Over the weekend a sweet lady I am blessed to know had her first child. This is more of a miracle because she is forty-two years old. She and her husband began trying for children shortly after they got married, fourteen years ago. They tried everything they could think of, read material on infertility, sought doctor’s advice, and the final verdict was a crushing blow: unexplained infertility. The doctors could not find any reason that they could not conceive, but despite medical intervention, nothing helped.
In the same way, when they became pregnant they had not changed anything or experimented with a new procedure. They had given up trying long ago, and had become content with the lives they led, accepting that children would never be a part of them. When my friend became pregnant, she was elated. She also was a bit worried. On the day she discovered that she was expecting, her youngest nephew left home to begin college!
Their baby, Abagail, was born two months premature over the weekend. Despite her early arrival, she is four pounds, four ounces, and already breathing on her own without oxygen. The doctors are amazed by the miracle of this little girl.
Considering the circumstances, it is understandable that my friend and her husband have a lot of questions. When I visited over the weekend the husband in particular was full of them. He asked about my two girls, and I told him that they were born Daddy’s girls, from the very moment of their arrival.
“You know, the Daddy-Daughter bond,” I said with a laugh.
To my surprise, it seems that he had never heard of this. I found it mystifying, because when I was pregnant and people learned the sex of my baby they would laugh and say things like, “Oh, that’s going to be Dad’s baby right there,” or, “She’ll have him whipped in no time!” It irked me a bit, for people to be assuming my daughter would cling to my husband (I.e. the one who did not carry her for nine months and take disgusting prenatals and fish oils so she could be healthy! Hello!) before she even emerged. I mean, what if she preferred her mama? Would that really be so hard to believe?
While my daughters both love me very much, when my first, Alison, was born, there were indeed some hard moments. She was an unusual baby, and really didn’t care to be held once she could crawl. After she was mobile, my duties were restricted to feeding, and diaper changing. Otherwise, she wanted little to do with me. When her dad would get home, though, she became a completely different child. Her entire face would light up and she would make sounds of joy I’d never heard from her, as she rushed as fast as her legs would carry her to be by his side.
“This Daddy-Daughter bond,” he said thoughtfully. “This is common?”
“Oh, yeah,” I replied with a grin. “Don’t worry. You’ll be best friends in no time.”
As much as it may be irksome to us mothers sometimes, it’s great that our daughters have a wonderful man to look up to, that she’ll measure all men in her life against. And he is, after all, the one you chose, and who chose you, which means you must be pretty awesome yourself!