Reflections on fatherhood

Tonight I shared some exciting news with my siblings... my wife is pregnant.

The response, albeit predictable, was a bit disappointing.

I heard from many of them that I was going to be a great father. I heard that I was loving, caring and compassionate enough to guide a child to a healthy childhood.

But that was somewhat disappointing to my ears. Perhaps the greatest success in my life so far is that Lissie, our 5-year-old, calls me "Daddy." I share no genes with Lissie. She is literally some other guy's child. But in the same token, I'm her daddy. I'm who she goes to after a nightful of tears from bad dreams. I'm who takes her to a movies when her mother's not in a spectacular mood. I'm who made her breakfast this morning.

It's not for credit that I mention these things. It's almost to defend my relationship. The natural response when it's noted she's not my daughter is "he takes good care of her." "He appears to take care of her." No. None of that's true. I love her, as I will love my potential son or daughter. I don't think any less of her because I wasn't a part of her conception. I pray she doesn't think any less of me either.

So I hope you'll forgive me if I don't respond well, if you tell me the joys of fathering a child. I accepted that when Jessica and I fell in love. I already know what it's like to be a child's father, and I wouldn't trade those "I love you daddy" comments for anything in the world.