Tuesday, February 28


Let me guess.  You've been wondering about Sol's dad, whether he's come into the picture at all.  The short answer is yes, somewhat.  And I've been stewing over how to write about it.

For about four months last fall, I heard nothing from Sol's father.  In late December and into January, I began to hear from him again, fairly often.  On February 2, he called to find out about his daughter, as he had heard we were in the hospital.  Over the past four weeks, he's called almost daily to ask about her.

Almost 2 weeks after Sol was born, her father (who swore up and down that he didn't want to see her) came to my home to take care of some paperwork, with no talk of meeting her.  While we were finishing things up, Sol started to cry and I went (alone) into the other room to console her.  While in there, he came around the corner, sat down in the room where we were, and just looked at her.  I asked if he wanted to hold her, but he said no.  Sure enough, though, a couple minutes later he was reaching out to hold her.  I placed Sol in her father's arms and watched as she wrapped her tiny hand around his finger and gazed up at him with her big blue eyes. 

I sat there in silence and watched him look back at her, kissing her forehead and nose, smoothing her hair, caressing her back, stroking her tiny hands and feet.  I have no idea exactly what was going through his mind, nor do I really want to know.  One thing was clear: he had fallen in love with the daughter he had asked me to get rid of so many months ago.  A very small part of me was secretly hoping that he was feeling tortured inside, that he was feeling just a little bit of the pain that I felt when he had demanded that I abort our child last summer.  I wanted him to feel absolute remorse for begging me to end her life before we'd even met her.  I was hoping that he was looking at her beautiful face, her perfectly formed body, and coming to the realization that she wouldn't be in his arms if I'd listened to him so many months before and gone through with the "only option," as he had so eloquently put it.

As much as I hate to admit it, part of me wants him to feel as tormented as I did this summer.  I want him to look into his daughter's eyes, to hold her and realize what it was he had been asking me to do.  Knowing him, I assume I'll never get an apology for making me feel like the child I was carrying didn't deserve to live.  And as I said, I know I'll never know exactly what he was feeling as he met his daughter.  But as I watched her hand wrap around his finger, I could see that he was smitten with Sol. 

He didn't say much.  He noted that she looks just like him (she does resemble him, I'll give him that), and he said that she was begging him to take her home with him (yeahhhh... I think not).  And being the gloriously ever-comedic man that he is, he politely requested that I leave her in a basket on his doorstep and he would take care of her forever and ever (which, by the way, I'm not even slightly considering).  Here's a man that never allows himself to be proven wrong.  And it only took an 8-pound bundle of baby to make him realize: this time, he couldn't have been more wrong.

That was 2 weeks ago.  He's come back once more since then to see her, but that's it.  I don't know what the future holds, whether he will want to see her or not.  If he wants to be a part of her life, great.  If not, there are plenty of others who love her dearly - that's absolutely clear.  She'll never know a life without love.  We're all pretty smitten with Sol.

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