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Come look daddy! I drew a picture just for you!” With a smile and obvious pride of ownership, my darling three-year-old Jenna led me around the corner from my office to present her special artistic gift. “It’s a rainbow. Isn’t it pretty?” she asked. “Yes honey, It’s beautiful! Thank you for the lovely picture.” There on the painted wall next to the sink was Jenna’s rainbow. Scold her? Not hardly. I did request that future artistic expressions be placed on a more suitable surface, such as paper, so that I could hang them on the wall above my desk. “Okay daddy, can I have some big paper to draw another picture for you?” Drawing paper and hugs were exchanged and my resident Rainbow Picasso set to work on her next masterpiece, on paper, of course. Thirty years earlier, my response to a similar scene was a bit more abrasive. The artist was just as proud and eager to please me, for she was also my daughter of three—my first daughter. Fortunately my scolding at the sight of her wall mural did not put a damper on her artistic endeavors. Today, as a beautiful young mother, she applies her talents to the walls of other people’s homes; only now she is applauded and paid for her artistry! I am so proud and fortunate to be a dad, a grandpa, and finally, a dad again. I asked for this second chance at being a dad, and when the call came I accepted the challenge with a passion. It’s not that my first run at fatherhood was a bust. I disciplined and fed at the proper times, played stick-ball, climbed trees and dressed as a clown for the PTA carnival, much to the delight and sometimes embarrassment of my children. But something was missing then. It turned out to be the impatient me. Why was I always rushing to get through fatherhood instead of savoring every precious moment? I have seen other dads in similar modes, going through the motions, but oblivious to the loss, internal and external, that can never be regained. Unless, of course, you get and seize a second chance. I did. Thirty years would pass from the moment I first held my daughter, Jacqueline, when the beautiful Pan Jing Ying would be placed in my arms. Much had changed during that time frame that would lead me to this new family, -- a broken marriage and separation from my first family, to a new commitment several years later that included a promise of children together. We soon found that promises of this nature are easy to make, but sometimes difficult to fulfill, and so it was that another dozen years would pass before the familiar sounds of a cooing infant would grace the airwaves of our home. Could this really be happening to me? For an instant the pangs of guilt crept into my psyche. When so many could-be parents remained childless, I was holding in my arms, and forever in my heart, my dream child Nicole, soon to be followed by our artist-in-residence, Jenna. This gift, this miracle of adoption, has given me new life. Although my body will never regain its twenty-year-old form, my spirit and zest for life have never been stronger. Hand in hand with my daughters I’ve learned the essence of “carpe diem,” and seize the moment, for each second with my family is a priceless gift. Is it fair to my children that I am an older parent? This thought can defeat you before you get started! When I think of the alternatives for my children and for me, this is by far the best plan for all of us. A day in my life starts with that soft calling of “Daddy,” then first hugs and kisses followed by a trip to the kitchen where “chef dad” prepares his specialty—chocolate chip pancakes. “Is today a play day or a work day?” inquires Jenna. “It’s a play day,” I reply, followed by their shouts of “Yippee” and the clapping of little hands. If I were a real king instead of just feeling like one, I would make every day a breakfast-with-dad day. I sometimes shudder to think of what life would have been like if I hadn’t held on to the dream of becoming a “forever dad.” For the future, I plan on being there as the mortarboards fly through the air, and will promise to remain composed when looking into my daughter’s eyes as I pass her hand to a younger man who I pray will love her with the passion of her father’s heart. The real question should be, is this fair that I’m living a scenario that most grandparents my age only dream about? In a way, it’s not so much starting over, as it is not losing the beat. Parenting never stops, there are just periods where you relax into a slower paced two-step instead of retro rock and roll. In reality, the second chance is probably easier. I am more financially secure and definitely more experienced. I’ve already been through the cycle of kid-talk and been described by my first children as “daddy,” “coach” and probably “senseless old man” during the time when they became all-knowing at the tender age of sixteen. We are now about full circle with the attitude of respect, now that they have experienced first hand the 2 AM feedings and their first parent teacher conference. In our house, the old really is forever new! I’ve also found that second chance dads (and moms) have some real advantages when growing their families through adoption. Most of the guesswork we encountered the first time has been eliminated! Forget the infertility meds, put away the thermometer and toss the charts in the trash. Adoption provides the closest to a guaranteed family you will ever find. Provided you qualify, all you need to do is start the process and don’t quit! There is a child waiting to claim you as a #1 dad, if only you will make yourself available. Are you ready to pick up the beat? Are you ready to answer that soft cry in the morning as the music fills your heart and quickens your step? Listen to your heartbeat, that’s the sound of life inviting you to dance a second time. Dick Fischer is the editor in chief for Adoption Today, a magazine for the international adoption community.
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