I will admit, I’ve never been one to care much about Mother’s or Father’s Day… Neither my biological mother or father were ever really in the picture. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know my dad’s name or what he looks like.
I was raised by my aunt and uncle and I always celebrated them on these holidays, but there was always something that never quite felt the same. Every Mother’s Day I would wonder about my mom and every Father’s Day I wondered if he even felt like the holiday was for him. My aunt and uncle did everything for me that a biological parent would do, and I’d never want to dismiss that, but I would still always feel a tinge of pain on these holidays.
Then I got engaged and had a daughter. And everything changed.
I no longer feel the pain of absence on these days. I celebrate these days with my family and I don’t ever even wonder about what could have been. Mother’s Day is to celebrate me, and Father’s Day is to celebrate the amazing dad that Dylan is.
When I found out I was pregnant, I was worried about being a good mom. I never really questioned whether or not Dylan would be a good dad because when I sat on that hospital bed sick as a dog and the doctor came back into the room to confirm my pregnancy, my head fell to my hands and I started to bawl. But when I looked up at Dylan…
He was smiling the most exhilarating smile I’ve ever seen, still to this day. His facial expression that day comforted any worry that he would be an exuberant partner to me and a phenomenal dad to our child. He has proved time and time again that he is here to stay and willing to do whatever it takes to provide for our daughter. I fall in love with him all over again every time I hear him talk so sweetly and gently to Della. He is truly one of the greatest treasures in my life.
I’ve written a lot about my mother on this blog, but nearly nothing about the man that donated his sperm so that I could be sitting here today.
I know nothing about my father. I don’t know his name, where he is now, what he does for a living, or why he chose to walk away from a child that he knew was his. Sounds weird to say that… I don’t see myself as “his” in any way, shape, or form.
Most of my life I have been so enraged at my mother for her drug addiction that forced her away from her children. I have been so overwhelmed and emotional about the mother that was there and left, that I completely lost interest in caring about the father that never existed. It is hard to hate or be angry with someone that never made an impression on you. My biological “father” rarely crosses my mind, and I am completely okay with that, but today is one day where I always wonder about what could have been had he chosen to take responsibility of me.
I am lucky enough to say that a man did step up for me. He became the father that my coward sperm donor chose not to be. He loves me, supports me, and encourages me. He was at every softball game, graduation, piano recital, and he will be the man that walks me down the wedding aisle someday. I am extremely fortunate that my uncle took me in and raised me as his own. I will be forever in his debt.
Happy Father’s Day to my Uncle Sam. Thank you for being my dad today and everyday.