"Raising a child will be expensive. The Lord was wise enough to make a woman's pregnancy last nine months. If it were shorter, people with temporary insanity might have two or three kids a year, and they would be wiped out before the first one had learned to talk. You know why John D. Rockefeller had all that money? Because he had only one child, so he didn't have to spend ninety thousand dollars on Snoopy pens and Superhero mugs and Smurf pajamas and Barbie Ferraris.
It doesn't make any difference how much money a father earns, his name is always Dad-Can-I; and he always wonders whether these little people were born to beg. I bought each of my five children everything up to a Rainbow Brite jacuzzi and still I kept hearing "Dad, can I get . . . Dad, can I go . . . Dad, can I buy . . .
Like all other children, my five have one great talent: they are gifted beggars. Not one of them ever ran into the room, looked up at me, and said, "I'm really happy that you're my father, and as a tangible token of my appreciation, here's a dollar." If one of them had ever done this, I would have taken his temperature.
A parent quickly learns that no matter how much money you have, you will never he able to buy your kids everything they want. You can take a second mortgage on your house and buy what you think is the entire Snoopy line: Snoopy pajamas, Snoopy underpants, Snoopy linen, Snoopy shoelaces, Snoopy cologne, and Snoopy soap, but you will never have it all. And if Snoopy doesn't send you to the poorhouse, Calvin Klein will direct the trip. Calvin is the slick4 operator who sells your kids things for eighty-five dollars that cost seven at Sears." Bill Cosby, Fatherhood
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It’s been six years since we buried our still-born daughter Sarah. A year before that my wife, Dolores, mis-carried twins. January of 2006 brought another miscarriage. It used to be that I didn’t care about fatherhood. I was too busy bodysurfing, traveling, and working in the wacky world of radio and television news.
But when you bury your child your world changes forever. Some days are easy. Others are torture. In between there are times you must remind yourself to breathe. Sarah’s empty nursery across the hall silently screams as I walk by. I used to love watching the little kids in the park or performing in church Christmas choirs.
Not anymore.
Every week we see little girls that are the same age that Sarah should be, as well as the other babies that we never had a chance to name. Many times we are distracted by everything in our lives. Other times we are moved to tears.
The worst part is going to Sarah’s grave. Watching Dolores at Sarah’s grave brings this hard-nosed reporter to indescribable emotions. My wife is virtually a saint. She didn’t deserve to bury her baby!
For a while we thought about adopting. But then we learned that dealing with the massively dysfunctional DHHR makes dealing with the IRS seem like a cakewalk.
Through the years we opened our home to a half-dozen nieces and nephews, helping raise them as their parents went through divorces and Dolores' sister was dying of cancer. We love them dearly, but there was a hole in our hearts as we longed for a child of our own.
Last year we decided to try one more shot at parenthood. After months, we conceived again. We learned we were expecting in January. For most couples learning of a pregnancy is a celebration. For us it’s an emotional pendulum swinging between elation and terror.
So far we have sailed through the first trimester, passed all of the genetic testing, and moved towards the fifth month where we lost Sarah. We’ve dealt with an employer that lied about health insurance coverage, (costing us thousands) taken jobs to get insurance, dealt with my false arrest, trial, acquittal, and endured incessant construction noise caused by greedy politicians who are shoving a Wal-Mart into what formerly was a nice neighborhood.
On April 25th our emotional pendulum swung towards elation. An ultrasound revealed that our baby is a boy. We will name him Matthew McKinley Drake Hallburn, combining a first name that we love with family names representing generations of his heritage. Little Matthew is only eight ounces now but the ultrasound revealed his eyes, ears, fingers, feet, and a wonderful beating heart!
As we heard Matthew’s heartbeat our hearts jumped. Though we’ve heard it before during his first ultrasound, expecting parents always love hearing their baby’s heartbeat. It’s a feeling that I can’t put into words.
The doctors tell us Matthew is progressing properly. He and Dolores are 18 weeks along. Next month will be a milestone. We lost Sarah in the fifth month. Once we get past that point we will feel less apprehensive. They say childbirth is a miracle. For us, getting Matthew and Dolores through this pregnancy truly will be our miracle.
In late August I hope to announce Matthew’s birth and post some baby pictures. Ok, a LOT of baby pictures. Until then I will be working on selling our home, moving, and designing a nursery worthy of our Miracle Matthew. (Expect LOTS of Los Angeles Dodgers decorations!)
Until then I ask you to join with lots of friends, family members, friends, and church goers who are praying for Dolores and Matthew. As you read this I ask you to join them. Please pray for their health. Please pray for quiet in our neighborhood so that Dolores can get rest during her pregnancy. Please pray for Dolores’ doctors. Please pray for a smooth cesarean for Matthew’s birth. With all of your prayers Matthew’s miracle will happen!
