I hope you are doing well. I haven't felt you kicking in the past couple of nights, but your mommy tells me that you are still kicking away. I have reached the point that I am anxious for your arrival. I am not scared (not really). I am ready to hold you and kiss your head. I still get sad sometimes when I think about the possibility that my time with you will be short and that I will have to give you back. But for the most part, I am happy that you will be coming soon. It's funny how fire will affect you. By fire, I mean struggle or suffering. Some people get burned -- scared. They run away from the suffering, only to realize that their suffering follows them no matter how far they run. Others give up, relinquishing all hope for change. They accept their fate as cursed or unlucky. Then there are others (those with a great support system) who let the fire in. They allow the flames to take them and change them into something better -- stronger. Lily, I hope that I am strong enough to be the last type of person. I want to be galvanized. I want to become a better, stronger person as a result of this experience. I need to do that -- for you. You deserve it. You have been so strong, defying all the odds. I hope you continue to. I still hold onto that hope that all the tests were wrong and that we will be able to run and play together. I will not let go of that hope until I know for sure. I know, though, that you are exactly the way you were supposed to be. That may be sad for me and the others who love you. That's OK.
I my class today we watched March of the Penguins. It was a fantastic movie about the way of life for the emperor penguin. Their babies are so fragile in the frigid antarctic. Yet, somehow many manage to overcome the steep odds to persevere. Not all though. Some fathers come back after nurturing the egg until it hatched, then caring for the newborn until its mother returned from feeding, only to find that their baby does not return its calls. You see each father and baby learn each other's calls before the father leaves to feed. They have formed this special bond and then the father has to go away -- sometimes returning to an unanswered call. I wonder if he is excited to return. I imagine that these penguins have human emotions, and I think about how sad it would be to return, only to call and call without ever getting an answer. I think about how long the father penguin calls for his chick before he gives up. I wonder how long it takes before he is ready to try again. That is the life of an emperor penguin. It's not easy. God didn't promise them an easy road. He didn't promise any of us an easy road. What he did promise is that when we fall, if we let Him, that we will be held. I thought about you. I am an emperor penguin returning. I will be calling for you. I hope that I find you safe in your mother's arms.
I love you,
Daddy
Hi Dave,
I just sent Jill an email and chanced upon your blog. Funny how you reacted to the movie just like I did. Ian my husband stayed home for 9 months to look after Vera, my baby with trisomy 18. a herculean feat. hats off to dedicated dads like you...
http://mylittlevera.blogspot.com/2008/07/learning-from-penguins.html
Ian must be an amazing person. Hats off to him, indeed. As for the movie, I was especially touched by the bond between father and chick. After so many harsh months, the father had to go off to survive, leaving behind his child. You can feel how difficult it must be for them, and I do not believe it is personification. I believe that they really find it hard to let go.
Dave-