At the start of my adult life, I joined the military. I was eager about this as I had qualified for West Point, even though I was from the streets of Philadelphia. However, during Basic Training, I found out that a young woman I had a one-night stand with had conceived. Accepting my responsibility, I informed the military about the oncoming child. Taking care of all paperwork involved, and providing my own parents parental rights while I was in initial training, I was all in on being a father of my child.
The penalty involved in accepting my child I was disqualified from West Point, and it made clear I fully intended to be a prominent feature in the child's life. My parents was able to visit my daughter at the hospital just after she was born. The mother, had decided that she did not want her daughter raised by a warmonger. So on a weekend shortly after my daughter was born, the mother took her out of the hospital and disappeared. The daughter in question was raised by distant family of the mother, who chose to live off-grid as a member of the Hare Krishna.
So losing my daughter and the West Point path simply devastated me. In fact, it was a deciding factor in my not continuing in the military. At that point I my life as a civilian involved going to college and assorted educational choices. However not long after those choices I was re-activated for Desert Shield and subsequent activities. I, of course, survived and thrived after these moments in my life. But the search for my daughter's Mother continued.
As I was developing my IT career, at Bell of Pennsylvania, I met a wonderful young lady with whom I eventually became engaged. Sadly, she chose to engage in some infidelity at one point that destroyed my trust. The relationship simply could not continue however conception had happened and we were bound together by blood. When my next daughter was born I was there at the hospital when it happened. At that time, we discovered another Desert Shield trauma. My chromosomes were damaged and the daughter was born with a life threatening birth defect. Several surgeries later, neural tube defect was adjusted for and her life began. The first 12 days of her life I was with her, worrying and sweating through each surgery and procedure, feeling tremendously guilt as it was my war service that damaged me. The full extent of this was not yet fully known however it does not take much for guilt to be planted and grow. That being said, I fully supported my daughter. Every chance I got I spent time with my daughter.
My career was starting to bloom and my life was unfolding in delightful ways. Not long after she was born, I was able to a friend's house. I also had some success within the relationship realm. Much to the dismay of Amanda's mother, I got married. Unbeknown to me, to a former disliked high school aquaitance. After the marriage, Amanda's mother officially took me to court for child support. It was a bit of ongoing spitefullness between the two ladies, but I didn't care. The court accepted my support records and simply decided that what I had chosen to provide my daughter was sufficient. It also refused the "no visitation" motion submitted by the mother. So I was able to take my daughter two weekends per month and one month per year to my house with my current wife.
Sadly, my wife also concieved not long after the visitations started. Sadly because this third daughter was also born with a Nueral Tube Defect. This repetition of condition signified that I was suffering one of the identified post_Desert War syndromes: Damaged chromosomes. Essentially any child concieved by me since that time WILL be born with a life threatening condition. Jessica, did not live long enough to know or be known. This not only destroyed Kathy mental state, but made me the culprit of her pain. Her response to this was a hyper level of infidelity that she committed. I accepted that pain of her actions and tried to continue the marriage even though it had happened, but she eventually left me realizing that I was punishing myself trying to work out my guilt involved. She loved me enough to leave me, stopping me from letting myself be tormented.
During all of this, my life with Amanda continued and my career continued to grow. After my marriage disentegrated, I accepted work that took me to California. Again, a good choice for me as it was a few years before the dot.com bursting. The career exploded to the point I was living out there and was discussing long distance visitation rights with Amanda's mother. It was at that point I was informed that Amanda had finally succumbed to her birth condition like Jessica did. Being so far away, I had no means or desire to double check. Another daughter lost, becuase of me "the warmonger".
I simply lost myself in the bottle for several years. No one pointed out that the "child support" was no longer being paid to the City of Philadelphia, per court oder. Imagine my surprise to decades later find out that Amanda had lived. But by causing me to believe she did not, visitation did not happen ever again. One lie and I was essentially divorced from my daughter. No fuss, no muss, I was deleted.
When I moved back to Philadelphia, my career was no more. Alcohol use can cause those things to implode.
I am not an alcholic, my usage was fully by choice. Not dependency.
I am married, again, but to a person worth my life. Not at the cost of it, but enhancing my life.
It has been more than two decades in this marriage and I am not just at peace, but I am happy.
The reason for this personal history monologue was recently that first daughter of mine lashed out at me publicly upon social media with the accusation of being a Dead Beat Dad. From her perspective, this is very true as my family did not know her, locate her, until she was a fully formed adult in college. Furthermore, my brain injury truly interupted the growth and development of the new "father/daughter" relationship that formed. Living distantly did not help but almost losing my life from a traumatic brain injury really inserted a powerful road block. I had not let her know much of this dramatic parental life fate has bequeathed me. So, I angered her and recieved her under educated wrath.
I can only hope that this lets her know she mislabeled me. The correct three words, yes! However in a very misguided and erroneous sequence. I am not a Dead Beat Dad.
I am a Beat Dead Dad.
