Learning what it means to be a father

Learning what it means to be a father

David Trinko dtrinko@limanews.com - 12.10.2007

The judge leaned in to me, trying to size me up instantly, and asked the crucial question: “Do you completely understand what it means to adopt this girl?”
To this moment, I’m not quite sure what it means to adopt Lissie. She certainly doesn’t. After all, this beautiful 6-year-old child has been calling me “Daddy” for a year and a half. She already told her friends her last name was Trinko, just like her mom, dad and baby sister. She kept calling Purk her “old name.”
If you asked her, it was the day she would marry her daddy. Instead of getting a ring, she’d get a nice chain with a crucifix, similar to the one she envied at her baby sister’s baptism. She knew this short event in a small courtroom was important to her family, though.
As the judge asked that vital question at the final hearing for her adoption, so many thoughts ran through my head.
It means holding her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze when an unfamiliar surrounding terrifies her.
It means listening to her tell me how much she hates me when she can’t have more M&Ms.
It means listening to her tell me how much she loves me the rest of the time.
It means helping her when she’s working on her homework, perfecting the letter P and listening to her off-key silly song about Penelope, the proud and pretty pig.
It means hearing how she wants mommy when I’m there to help her and how she wants daddy when I’m not.
It means hugging her after she falls down and bumps her knee, calming her with the soothing words of “you’re all right.”
It means learning who her friends are and knowing which ones I trust and which ones I don’t.
It means being her best friend as often as I can but being the disciplinarian when I have to be.
It means I’m not one of those stepfathers who tries to be hands-off with a child coming into the marriage.
It means telling her I love her even when I’m furious she destroyed something of mine.
It means wondering aloud how she’ll turn out some day. Given her ability to negotiate on absolutes such as bedtime, I’m betting on lawyer.
It means wondering aloud how my actions and mannerisms affect her daily.
It means smiling back when she gives me a thumbs-up after trying something new, especially since Mom doesn’t use the thumbs-up gesture.
I haven’t met a parent yet who knows exactly what it means to be the legal guardian of a child. It’s certainly a position with plenty of on-the-job training. I never could have guessed how infuriated or how mushy I could feel in the same day thanks to that angelic-looking child.
I couldn’t express all of those ideas for the judge at that time, though. Instead, I said what I’ll always say about Lissie: I love this child, and I’ll do whatever I can to take care of her until the day I die.
The judge leaned back and nodded his approval. After short conversations with my wife and Lissie alike, he signed off on the adoption.