On this occasion, my oldest daughter's 29th birthday, I remember her birth by my first wife vividly. Her coming into this world was difficult. Her mother and I had taken Bradley classes, and we decided to try to do things without medication. We had delayed our children by 10 years, which was a wise decision, as neither of us were ready for kids until then. It seemed that I sowed many wild oats in my 20s, and by 31, I had earned two graduate degrees, and money was flowing more substantially than ever before. We had bought a home, and I really thought it would be our home lifelong.
That first home had 3 bedrooms, plus a room for my ever burgeoning record collection. Insanity by vinyl multiplied. We searched for names, and Kalinda, a word from the ancient language Sanskrit meaning sunlight, was our choice. She was born in the Greeley, Colorado Hospital, and her Apgar Score at 1 minute was only 2. Having been trained in Early Childhood Development, sirens went off in my head. Her mother was still dealing with the afterbirth when Apgars at 5 minutes were 5. By 10 minutes, she had "pinked up" to 8, and at 15 minutes, she was a solid 9. Her screams rang out as she discovered her world, and she calmed down when placed with her mother. Those first few weeks were heaven, as we learned her rhythms and she learned ours. My father asked me how I liked being a father myself.
She was always inquisitive, always spirited, fiercely independent, and wanted to do things herself. More than most of my other children and step-children, my first was observant, and learned by watching. Her mother's intellect was prodigious, and she inherited it. Friends of mine and her mother's dubbed her "Kalinda the Wonder Child." She was expressing her needs clearly by 7 months and walked early. She loved being read to, and I read her stories nightly for her first 4 years. Preschool was a good experience for her, and she enjoyed the company of other children. By 4, she had developed a sensitive temperament, which she hid well. From me, she developed a wonderful sense of rooting for the underdog, a quality she retains to this day. She does not suffer fools who discriminate against others well, nor do I. She had the unique experience of growing up with a sister with cerebral palsy, and loves her sister dearly.
It must have been hard being the sister who is "gifted" in a family with a newly diagnosed little sister who was a special needs child. Kalinda accepted this role, and, to my knowledge, never showed a bit of jealousy about the amount of time her parents spent with her younger sister in various therapies, special education programs, and other forms of intervention designed to help close the delays her sister had developmentally. As Kalinda entered school, she developed an interest in horses that she kept for most of her elementary school years. She became an accomplished rider, and despite a few falls and broken bones, kept on riding. She also developed a love of singing that she maintained all the way through her secondary school years. She has a beautiful soprano voice and a great ear.
When Kalinda was 10, her mother asked me to leave, and the pain she had in her eyes as I packed and moved out is seared in my soul forever. Her mother and I had grown apart, and we had a painful and protracted divorce that only hurt Kalinda more deeply. She expressed her anger to me, and presumably to her mother as well. I don't know, I was not there. I remarried on the rebound, and my second wife clashed personality wise with Kalinda. They never really were able to tolerate each other, making Kalinda's relationship with me even more distant. I take full responsibility for this. It was a mistake I will always regret.
I moved to Montana, and Kalinda visited me the first two Christmases I was here. My second wife had died, and I was devastated. To this day, it is hard to determine whether the divorce or my second wife's illness and death was most shattering. I still could not see Kalinda's pain, and I wish I could have. Her mother remarried, and her second husband was a true gentleman. He did not try to win Kalinda over, but simply respected her feelings for what they were. This was a lesson I hadn't learned, and it hurt Kalinda.
Fast forward into the post high school years, and Kalinda went to college. She was absent from my life, and had good reason to be. I had been arrogant. Her mother helped her as best she could,
and to Kalinda's credit, she got through a rigorous undergraduate program in 3 years. She met her future husband, and they ended up getting married and went to graduate school in Montreal. Kalinda got her M.A. in History, and the couple had the first of two children they have today. The children are beautiful, and have the delicate features their grandmother had.
They live an ocean and a half away, and when Kalinda visits, she comes to see her younger sister. Last time, she generously spent time with me for a few hours, and shared herself with me a little. Her talents are many, and her husband appears to be a generous and attentively loving man. For this I am very grateful. When her mother died, I couldn't help but wonder what things might have been like if I had gotten my act together and stayed, instead of selfishly being self-occupied. I wish there was a way I could have made amends in a manner Kalinda and her mother could hear.
They say the "woulda, shoulda, couldas" will eat away your soul. I believe it. My beautiful first born is a woman, a mother, an artist, a wife, and a citizen of the world. She has embraced the cultures of other countries, using her camera and her inquiring mind to learn about things I only dreamed of learning. Her mother rests at peace in Colorado, and my Higher Power has seen fit to give me a second chance to be a dad with her sister, now 23, and 3 stepdaughters and 2 children with my wife. My "second family" is a blessing, a chance to make a difference in the most important job a man can have, being a father and stepfather.
Kalinda has a gift for photography that is truly remarkable. Her site, attakat.com, is a collection of photographs that I love immensely. Every few months, I go there to see what my oldest has found wonderful about the world in her travels. If I live long enough, my hope is that one day, I will be privileged to meet her family. In the meantime, once a year formally, and hundreds of times informally, I celebrate her life and her gifts, which are many. She is unique, my first, and nothing can take her place in my heart. You only have your firstborn once, and today, I celebrate her and her life....Kalinda.
That first home had 3 bedrooms, plus a room for my ever burgeoning record collection. Insanity by vinyl multiplied. We searched for names, and Kalinda, a word from the ancient language Sanskrit meaning sunlight, was our choice. She was born in the Greeley, Colorado Hospital, and her Apgar Score at 1 minute was only 2. Having been trained in Early Childhood Development, sirens went off in my head. Her mother was still dealing with the afterbirth when Apgars at 5 minutes were 5. By 10 minutes, she had "pinked up" to 8, and at 15 minutes, she was a solid 9. Her screams rang out as she discovered her world, and she calmed down when placed with her mother. Those first few weeks were heaven, as we learned her rhythms and she learned ours. My father asked me how I liked being a father myself.
She was always inquisitive, always spirited, fiercely independent, and wanted to do things herself. More than most of my other children and step-children, my first was observant, and learned by watching. Her mother's intellect was prodigious, and she inherited it. Friends of mine and her mother's dubbed her "Kalinda the Wonder Child." She was expressing her needs clearly by 7 months and walked early. She loved being read to, and I read her stories nightly for her first 4 years. Preschool was a good experience for her, and she enjoyed the company of other children. By 4, she had developed a sensitive temperament, which she hid well. From me, she developed a wonderful sense of rooting for the underdog, a quality she retains to this day. She does not suffer fools who discriminate against others well, nor do I. She had the unique experience of growing up with a sister with cerebral palsy, and loves her sister dearly.
It must have been hard being the sister who is "gifted" in a family with a newly diagnosed little sister who was a special needs child. Kalinda accepted this role, and, to my knowledge, never showed a bit of jealousy about the amount of time her parents spent with her younger sister in various therapies, special education programs, and other forms of intervention designed to help close the delays her sister had developmentally. As Kalinda entered school, she developed an interest in horses that she kept for most of her elementary school years. She became an accomplished rider, and despite a few falls and broken bones, kept on riding. She also developed a love of singing that she maintained all the way through her secondary school years. She has a beautiful soprano voice and a great ear.
When Kalinda was 10, her mother asked me to leave, and the pain she had in her eyes as I packed and moved out is seared in my soul forever. Her mother and I had grown apart, and we had a painful and protracted divorce that only hurt Kalinda more deeply. She expressed her anger to me, and presumably to her mother as well. I don't know, I was not there. I remarried on the rebound, and my second wife clashed personality wise with Kalinda. They never really were able to tolerate each other, making Kalinda's relationship with me even more distant. I take full responsibility for this. It was a mistake I will always regret.
I moved to Montana, and Kalinda visited me the first two Christmases I was here. My second wife had died, and I was devastated. To this day, it is hard to determine whether the divorce or my second wife's illness and death was most shattering. I still could not see Kalinda's pain, and I wish I could have. Her mother remarried, and her second husband was a true gentleman. He did not try to win Kalinda over, but simply respected her feelings for what they were. This was a lesson I hadn't learned, and it hurt Kalinda.
Fast forward into the post high school years, and Kalinda went to college. She was absent from my life, and had good reason to be. I had been arrogant. Her mother helped her as best she could,
and to Kalinda's credit, she got through a rigorous undergraduate program in 3 years. She met her future husband, and they ended up getting married and went to graduate school in Montreal. Kalinda got her M.A. in History, and the couple had the first of two children they have today. The children are beautiful, and have the delicate features their grandmother had.
They live an ocean and a half away, and when Kalinda visits, she comes to see her younger sister. Last time, she generously spent time with me for a few hours, and shared herself with me a little. Her talents are many, and her husband appears to be a generous and attentively loving man. For this I am very grateful. When her mother died, I couldn't help but wonder what things might have been like if I had gotten my act together and stayed, instead of selfishly being self-occupied. I wish there was a way I could have made amends in a manner Kalinda and her mother could hear.
They say the "woulda, shoulda, couldas" will eat away your soul. I believe it. My beautiful first born is a woman, a mother, an artist, a wife, and a citizen of the world. She has embraced the cultures of other countries, using her camera and her inquiring mind to learn about things I only dreamed of learning. Her mother rests at peace in Colorado, and my Higher Power has seen fit to give me a second chance to be a dad with her sister, now 23, and 3 stepdaughters and 2 children with my wife. My "second family" is a blessing, a chance to make a difference in the most important job a man can have, being a father and stepfather.
Kalinda has a gift for photography that is truly remarkable. Her site, attakat.com, is a collection of photographs that I love immensely. Every few months, I go there to see what my oldest has found wonderful about the world in her travels. If I live long enough, my hope is that one day, I will be privileged to meet her family. In the meantime, once a year formally, and hundreds of times informally, I celebrate her life and her gifts, which are many. She is unique, my first, and nothing can take her place in my heart. You only have your firstborn once, and today, I celebrate her and her life....Kalinda.
No comments:
Post a Comment