Tomorrow night, my little girl graduates from the eighth grade. Some may say she’s not so little now, but she always will be to me. On Saturday, June 4th she’ll turn 14, and in the fall be a freshman in high school. How fast the years have gone by, ‘like a warm summer breeze,’ as the song goes.
This ‘little girl’ I’m talking about has a name. Angela Christine Williams to be exact. She was born 14 years ago in Portland, Oregon, at St. Vincent Hospital. She came to us a little early, and a little small, five pounds, 11 ounces as I recall. She was little, she was small, she was ‘dinky,’ which gave her, her first nickname, ‘Pinky Dink.’ The ‘Pinky’ came from all of the baby shower gifts we received upon notice of Angela’s soon to be arrival. Everything was pink. Eventually that nickname would just become ‘Pink.’
Initially we were led to believe that this newly conceived child was to be a boy. An early ultrasound showed what looked to be a little ‘peepee.’ But as the doctor said, it was a bit early to determine that for sure. A few months later, in another exam it was quite clear that we were going to have a little girl. While I was completely down with the idea of having a boy, the idea of having my own little girl made me very happy. I can’t quite put it into words, but I just felt like, for the first time, I was going to have something that was mine and could never be taken away. And no matter what happened, I would always be her daddy.
To be honest, I was never very keen on being a father. My upbringing didn’t exactly entail having Ozzie and Harriet Nelson as my parents. It was closer to Fred and Ethel Mertz, but even that doesn’t describe it. Nope, it was pretty dysfunctional and jaded any view I may have had of being a dad someday. By the time I got married at 32 I was warming to the idea, but really not sold, not in the least.
Angela’s arrival on the scene took awhile. It turned out that I didn’t have a whole lot of little fishies, and the ones I had, weren’t very strong swimmers. So after many attempts, trips to the doctor, pills, implants, procedures, you name it, we couldn’t conceive. I was approaching 40 and thought ‘OK, I’m about done.’ My wife at the time agreed that after one more try with this latest new fangled procedure, that if it didn’t work, we’d just move on.
Well, needless to say it didn’t work, and after some mourning on my wife’s part, we went about our life thinking we’d be childless, so much for that idea. It wasn’t long afterwards, that after going about things in the traditional way it was announced that we were prego, I was stunned. After all of the procedures we’d been through to have a baby didn’t work, we went about it the old fashioned way and ‘BINGO,’ we were having a baby.
This was not one of my better moments. In fact, it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever done. I was really upset that after all we’d done, we were finally going to have a baby. What should have been the happiest day of my wife’s life, I ruined, completely. It’s not that I didn’t want a baby at that point. It was just that after all of the work, yes work, to have a baby, I was of the belief we weren’t gong to have one and had moved on. I was looking forward to golf and tennis whenever I wanted. A trip to the beach with no concerns about a babysitter, woohoo, partay!! That all changed in a heartbeat, and forever fucked up my relationship with my future ex-wife because of it. I still look back on that as my biggest day as an asshole. I’ve had plenty of big ones since, but not like that.
I eventually warmed up of course, and the arrival of our child meant new plans. We made the spare bedroom into a nursery. And when we found out we were having a girl, of course it became pink. Maybe it’s a guy thing, but I couldn’t totally grasp what was going on inside my wife. Her tummy was growing, and something was moving around in there. I knew it was a baby but it was an abstraction at the time, I just couldn’t get my head around it. That is until she hiccupped. Yep, one night were lying in bed and Cheryl starts to twitch. I asked what was up and she said the baby was hiccupping. I’d never heard of that. I put my hand on her tummy, and sure enough, Angela hiccupped. I left my hand on her tummy, and she did it again. I thought that was the funniest damn thing I’d ever experienced. There was really somebody inside there, and she had the hiccups!
It wasn’t too long after, that Angela joined our family. The doctors had to induce labor due to things I don’t’ quite remember, but Angela joined us the evening of June 4th, 1997.
I remember after she slithered her way out, they cleaned her up and let me hold her, whoa! It was love at first site. This precious little bundle was mine. She was so small and fragile, and I vowed right there that no one would ever hurt my little girl. I also flashed back to the things I had done as a kid and in my mind, apologized to my mom for all the stupid things I had done in anticipation of what this little kid was probably going to do to me someday.
At soon to be 14, she really hasn’t done much, at least if she has, I don’t know about it.
She has been my treasure and my beacon of light in tough times. There were times during my divorce that I was really unhappy. The only thing that made my life worthwhile was Angela. She helped me keep my head on straight when there were times it was seriously sideways.
She has brought much joy to my life in these 14 years. Oh yeah, there have been some speed bumps along the way, she isn’t perfect and neither am I. We have both made our share of mistakes, but as a dad, I couldn’t be more proud. As she graduates eighth grade tomorrow, I realize that she isn’t that same little girl who would ride her trike and say ‘watch me daddy, watch me!’ She’s not the little girl who would run across the room and jump on me, knocking me over with both of us laughing, only to have her get up and do it a dozen more times.
I can’t help but wonder now if there were enough trips to the park? If there were enough pushes on the swing? Did we ride the bus and see the fountain enough? Were there enough bedtime stories? I can’t get those times back. I hope they were enough for her, as they weren’t enough for me.
Even at 14, she is still the girl who still calls me ‘daddy.’ She’s still the girl who let’s me come in and kiss her good night when she goes to bed. She’s still the girl who cries as my voice changes when I get angry.
I know that sometimes I drive her a bit crazy, and that she thinks I’m a bit strange. But I know she loves me all the same. She’s growing up on me now, and no, she’s not the little girl I once knew, but she’s still my little girl.
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