Chapter 10 — Raising Her / Raising Myself
The day she was born was the best day of my life.
But looking back now, there were signs.
At the time, I didn’t understand them. I couldn’t. I was just a father in a hospital room, waiting to meet his daughter. Everything felt normal—until it wasn’t.
Something went wrong during delivery.
There was a bowel movement, and the umbilical cord had wrapped around her neck. The room shifted instantly. What should have been a moment of celebration turned into something else.
She wasn’t crying.
I remember being pushed out of the way as the energy in the room changed. Doctors were called in. Staff moved quickly. The curtain was pulled aside, and I could hear urgency in their voices as they worked.
They suctioned her. Tried to get her to breathe.
It felt like forever.
Time didn’t move the way it normally does. Every second stretched. Every thought got louder.
Then—
I heard it.
A cry.
Relief hit all at once, but it didn’t fully land. I still couldn’t hold her. They took her to the neonatal unit for a few hours, and all I could do was wait.
When they finally let me see her, everything slowed down again—but in a completely different way.
We locked eyes.
And in that moment, nothing else existed.
I introduced myself to her.
Told her I was her dad.
The same voice she had heard before she was even born. The one that used to sing to her, talk to her, sit with her in silence before sleep. I used to kiss her goodnight while she was still in the womb. I used to play music, and she would move—kick, shift, like she could feel it.
Like she already knew.
Standing there, looking into her eyes for the first time, I knew something without needing to say it out loud.
I made a promise.
I would love her unconditionally.
I would protect her with my life.
No matter what.
Especially after the way she came into this world.
Despite the scare, I had never been more happy.
Because I didn’t just gain a daughter.
We became a family.
Just like that, it was the three of us.
Her mom and I were a team.
At least…
that’s what I believed.
Nothing could have prepared me for what happened a few short months later.
There had been signs before—small ones. Moments that didn’t quite feel right. Things I didn’t fully understand at the time. Looking back now, I can see them more clearly.
But back then, I didn’t have the lens for it.
I just had hope.
Then one day, she left.
No big moment. No clear ending.
Just gone.
And she didn’t come back.
What followed was something I wasn’t prepared for.
The pain. The devastation. The confusion.
And then the reality.
My daughter screamed constantly. Not for minutes—for hours. For days. For what felt like forever. If I put her down, even for a moment, she would scream like she was being abandoned all over again.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
Months turned into years.
I was grieving.
Trying to understand something that didn’t make sense. How a mother could walk away from her child. How something that felt so complete could fall apart so quickly.
I blamed myself.
Even when I knew it wasn’t my fault.
That didn’t stop the thoughts.
What made it harder was the timing. We had just gotten married. Not long before my birthday, everything changed.
And I didn’t have time to process any of it.
I had to move.
I had to figure it out.
I didn’t know how to raise a daughter. I didn’t know how to be both parents. I didn’t even know where to start.
I just knew there was no one else.
One night, it all hit me.
She was screaming again. Non-stop. I was exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. I didn’t have anything left.
I walked into my room, closed the door, and screamed into a pillow.
Not out of anger at her.
Out of overwhelm.
Out of fear.
Out of the weight of everything I didn’t understand.
And for the first time in a long time…
I asked for help.
I asked God to give me the courage to be the man I needed to be for my daughter.
At first, it wasn’t calm.
It was anger.
I argued.
Not because of her—but because I didn’t understand.
How could I be given this responsibility without being prepared for it? How could I be expected to raise this beautiful little girl, who deserved everything, when I felt like I didn’t have enough to give?
Then a thought hit me that scared me more than anything else.
What if I wasn’t enough?
What if she deserved better?
A real family.
People who had stability.
People who wanted a child and couldn’t have one.
People who could give her everything I didn’t think I could.
I got close.
Closer than I ever want to admit.
I picked up the phone.
I was going to make the call.
And then…
I dropped.
I fell to the ground and cried harder than I ever had before. Everything came out. Every emotion I had been holding in for years.
And in that moment…
something shifted.
A voice.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
But clear.
You’re enough.
I pulled myself off the floor.
And I said it out loud.
“If you don’t abandon me… I won’t abandon her.”
That was the deal I made that night.
I didn’t know how I was going to do it.
I didn’t have a plan.
But I knew one thing for certain.
I wasn’t alone.
And I don’t quit.
Not ever.
It’s not in my DNA.
I didn’t need all the answers.
I just needed the next step.
Find the people who know what I don’t.
Learn.
Adapt.
Do whatever it takes.
No matter how hard it gets.
Because failure wasn’t an option anymore.
Not with her.
Not with God on my side.
—End of Chapter 10—