Parent Talk: The Joys of Fatherhood

I never thought I was born to be a father. 

I had a great dad. I know I was fortunate. He wasn't always there – life as a traveling salesman in the 1980s meant you spent two weeks on the road, then a week at home wrapping up – but he was the best. 

So when my wife and I made the decision to have children, more than three years after we were married, I had a role model. 

But I had no idea. 

I first found out I was a father in 2004. Then again later that year. Then again. After three miscarriages (and dozens of doctor visits and nights of wondering), I wondered if it could happen. I thought, maybe not. I actually came to terms with that thought. 

In between miscarriages No. 2 and 3, we found Dr. Mary Holm in Fargo, N.D. 

She put us on the top of her list. We were going to conceive. The baby was going to "stick" (we lost the first three within the first six weeks, which meant the problem most likely stemmed from implantation) and we would be parents. 

It all happened. And we were due on Father's Day, 2006. 

My wife sacrificed a lot. First, she sacrificed her body. Daily shots meant bruises and, really, no shorts, despite the warmth of early fall or late spring. She also altered her diet, shorning her sweet tooth to control her gestational diabetes. 

In June, we were set. The date was scheduled for June 14, my sister's birthday and four days prior to my first "official" Father's Day. 

Kamden - who turns 5 today, amazingly - doesn't do anything the easy way. His entry was no different. He was a "Code Pink," not breathing on arrival. He had meconium and mucus lodged in his throat, and had to be intubated. 

Had he not been born in a hospital, he would have never made it. I remember them rushing out of the room. I almost fainted. 

"We've come way too far," Dr. Holm said, somehwat sternly, to us. "We aren't going to lose him now." 

Five years later, he's joined by two sisters, but he's all boy. 

There are times you want to keep them small forever. And there are times you want to pull out the hair on your head. 

I wasn't born to be a father. 

But I sure am glad that those three – the wild ones over there – are mine. 

Oh, and happy birthday, buddy!