Reflections of Fatherhood

Two roads diverged in a wood, and sorry I could not travel both, I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.

One year ago today, I checked my wife into Freeman Medical Center in Joplin, MO. She was scheduled to be induced that evening, and I had no idea the ride that I was in for over the next day, month, and year. As family and friends surrounded us, the ugly head of crisis made itself known in that small room. It seems that every time my wife attempted to deliver, my son's heart rate would drop dramatically. After this occurred several times, the doc decided that a C-Section was the safest option. 30 minutes later, at 8:54 PM on December 3, 2010, David Matthew Hatfield caught his first glimpse of the world. I was scared shitless. I have a photo of myself right before we went into the OR and it looked like I was frightened. In recollection, I realize I was. The doctor asked me if I wanted to cut my son's umbilical cord, but I did not because I was worried I would hurt him. In retrospect, I realize that my fears were unfounded, because all babies are born with umbilical cords. The next few days seem like a whirlwind of family, friends, baths, diapers, and feedings. The first diaper I ever changed I had to ask the nurse for help. I was completely lost. I haven't changed many diapers since then, and for that, I feel uneasy. A year has passed, and in that year many things have happened. I've lost friends, I've lost opportunities to be with my son, and I have lost a certain level of innocence. But one thing that I have not lost is the love for my son. One day, he will realize that his father left for a war while he was still in diapers. He may not understand why at first, but I hope that one day he realizes that I did it for him. I volunteered for this deployment. I didn't have to go, but I knew that if I didn't take this one, I'd be on the next one, and maybe he would be older, maybe he would truly realize his father is gone. Saying goodbye to your child is one of the toughest things you can do, but one must do it with poise and love, for I know that I will be reunited with him soon enough. I know that soon, I will hold him on my chest as he sleeps again, knowing that all is right in the world. In the mean time, his birthday will be just another day in a country whose future lays in our hands. My son will be in my thoughts and my heart, as he always is, but more so than usual. My son is my world to me, and I long for the day when he is in my arms again. I love you, David Matthew Hatfield.

For the record, he is not named after the Dave Matthews Band. Random tangent, but I look at people like they're stupid when they ask that.