We hadn't been married very long when my oldest daughter approached me and asked if I thought my new husband would consider adopting her. She was now 14, and though we had a little money saved, we knew it wasn't going to go far. We sat down and had a family discussion. He was so honored by her request and excitedly accepted, knowing it was well worth the expense. They both cried which of course made me cry.
I contacted an attorney to see what the necessary steps would be. She stated the process could be completed cost efficiently and quickly providing her biological father agreed. I knew this could present a problem. Though they had very little contact with one another and his involvement in her life had been minimal at best, I knew he would not agree to this easily. I dreaded the call. He was going to be offended at the suggestion, but she had spent 14 years of her life feeling like something was missing and she now had the opportunity to have that relationship. As her mother, I had to try.
I was right. He was very emotional. He loved her and he admitted he had failed her. I explained that while he couldn't relive the past, this was something he could do for her to prevent her from missing out on anything else and finally be able to have the life she deserved. Throughout the coarse of her life, I had never really asked him for anything before. He reluctantly agreed. I knew it was hard for him and I was sincerely grateful.
All the years I had spent raising her both physically and financially with only the help of my mother raced through my mind. How long had this bothered her? How many times did she hear friends talking about doing things with their fathers and feel left out? My heart hurt for her. I knew that she had been disappointed when she was younger, by birthday/Christmas cards that were supposedly on their way but never came, or visits that were scheduled but never kept, but I honestly thought she had gotten over it and dismissed it years ago.
In talking with her more, I learned that void had always been there. Throughout the year we dated and the few months we'd been married, she had really come to love Brad. She said he really felt like a father already and though she'd be 18 in a few short years, it really meant a lot to her to make it official. He felt the same way and wanted nothing more.
The process went relatively quickly. At her request, she also changed her last name to ours. He has really been there for her in every way. Watching them together and knowing as a mother, that this man provided something so meaningful to your child that you weren't able to really touches your heart. It made me love and respect him even more. He knew he didn't have to. He wanted to because he loved her. He loved us.
There's something to be said about a man who wholeheartedly loves your children as his own. Though I didn't know it then, he would go on to hurt when she hurt. When she accomplished something you'd be hard pressed to find a prouder father. He was right there through late night talks with encouraging words, fights over freedom, and advice regardless of whether she wanted it or not. He was her father in every sense of the word, and he was a great one. The father she'd never had before but always wanted and needed.
I knew our financial situation was only going to continue to get worse, but we had something money couldn't buy, and I wouldn't trade it for all the gold in the world. We had a real family. The kind I had always dreamt of having and had spent many nights praying for. The kind I knew my children deserved. Watching their relationship blossom and strengthen over the years was such a privilege as a mother. I felt like the richest woman in the world.
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