Being Reborn

March 3, is my second birthday. While I was born on August 5, March 3 is the day where my life changed for the better. On March 3, 2014, I sat in my car in my garage with the engine running. Thankfully, that suicide attempt failed. Thankfully, I was given another shot at life. Thankfully, I'm still here today.

I'm here, two years later, dealing with things I could never have anticipated on that fateful March day. This past July, I buried my father after his battle against dementia and Alzheimer's. And now, I'm dealing with possibly the worst thing to ever happen in my life. After 12 years of marriage, my wife has filed for divorce.

It's taken a bit of time, but I'm ok with it. As Bonnie Raitt sang "I can't make you love me if you don't; you can't make your heart feel something it won." Love isn't enough sometimes. And not every love story has a happy ending. Although it's probably for the best, I'll regret that I wasn't able to fulfill my vow of til death do us part. I'll be the first to admit that there are some things I should have done has a husband and some things that I shouldn't have done. But since my oldest child was born, I knew what I was put on Earth to do: be a father.

Part of the divorce proceedings, unfortunately, is to figure out who will get custody of the children. In my case, that means that the Jefferson County Circuit Court Family Division will determine where my two girls will live and how visitations will be administered. Because this is America and we still believe in Maternal Infallibility, I have to prove myself to be a fit parent in the eyes of the court.

I now have to prove to a judge, whom I've never met, and lawyers to whom I and my family are just another case, that I am a loving father. I have to tell them that despite my clinical depression, I'm not a danger to my children. I have to convince them that although I'm no longer in love with their mother, my love for my girls grows daily.

No, these court officials weren't there as I was when my daughters took their first breaths and I watched them get wrapped up in blankets in the delivery room. They weren't there when I made bottles and changed diapers. They weren't there for those times when I rocked my daughters to sleep and chased the boogeyman away.

I've seen my girls for a total two hours since January and not by my choice. I miss them terribly and I'm sure... I know... they miss me. I miss the way Sarah furrows her brown when she reads. I miss Lauren's smile and the way she laughs at her own jokes. I miss goodnight kisses and I miss good morning hugs. I've lost grandparents, both brothers and my hero, my father. But nothing has broken my heart like being away from my girls.

A couple of weeks ago, I told Lauren that I've been a daddy without his daughters and she told me that they've been daughters without their daddy. If there's any lasting legacy that I will leave it will be my daughters. Even at this young age, they are as loving and as compassionate as I could have ever hoped. I know their future is bright. I just want to be a part of it.