Image: (circa 2007 – post hospitalization) Brunn Family
I’m gonna watch you shine.
Gonna watch you grow.
Gonna paint a sign.
So you’ll always know.
As long as one and one is two.
There could never be a father;
Who loved his daughter more than I love you
~ Father and Daughter Songwriter: Paul Simon
I fall under a sense of emotions when the thought of a forced separation from my daughter enters my mind. Tingles build in intensity, travel from the center of my spine upwards through my shoulders. These electrical shocks finish their journey as the beginning of tears. This sensation is what I have come to call “Daddy Tears”, and I’ve experienced my share.
Shortly after Caitlin was born, I experienced a moment that showed me I had truly become a Daddy – I rarely shed a tear, but this occasion demonstrated to me that I was capable.
There is a scene in Kevin Costner’s movie ‘Field of Dreams’ where Karin (Ray’s young daughter) appears to be not breathing.
Moonlight quickly runs to help, but hesitates to leave the baseball field.
He does step off the field, instantly becoming the old doctor Ray met in Chisholm.
Doc Graham recognizes that Karin is choking, and holding her steady and pounding her on the upper back, causing her to cough up the piece of hot dog that had blocked her airway.
Ray realizes that Graham’s decision means he cannot return to the field as his younger self, and apologizes to the doctor.
Moonlight assures Ray that it’s alright, and thanks him for his chance.
He walks out into the ball field toward the cornfield, the players now addressing Doc Graham with subdued, respectful voices.
I caught myself wiping away a tear making its path down my cheek. I had changed.
The thought of Caitlin in such a predicament, made it clear that I too would go to such an extreme, even at my own expense, to protect or bring comfort to my daughter.
The choice to forgo a “return” to what may have been seen as a valued desire is quickly replaced by knowing the correct action is of the utmost importance.
Watching life from arms length is a fight unmatched by no other when it involves my daughter.
At age of three Caitlin was subjected to a daily life not of her choosing, but one that my wife Kristi fought to bring normalcy.
The struggle, intensified by the stress of my medical condition, that Kristi faced in making sure Caitlin was safe and taken care of is something that even today raises my blood.
I so much wanted to step in and remove the mess my family had to encounter; only I had no means to address it.
Just was not right to have a limited set of options; family, friends and strangers stepped in to assure Caitlin had her playtime, her meals, and her hugs – which were supposed to have come from me.
Kristi would bring me stories of how Caitlin was doing, even supplemented with artwork and photos.
I listened intently to how T-ball with her Uncle as a coach was becoming her favorite sport.
How much a blessing the Powell family were for taking Caitlin into their home, loving on Caitlin as if she were their own, allowing Kristi to travel to her various commitments – work, hospital, groceries. These updates lifted my spirits, but fell short due to the fact that Caitlin herself was not present.
It was difficult for Caitlin to visit me in what she called the “strong hospital”, as I suspect the machines, numerous lines, and my general overall appearance frightened her.
Kristi stated that she was working with Caitlin on her reluctance to visit, but we both knew not to push, and allow Caitlin the time she needed.
Early on Caitlin would only approach the glass door to my hospital room located within the intensive care unit, her head buried into Kristi’s shoulder while weeping.
Not wishing to traumatize Caitlin any further, Kristi would hand her off to an awaiting friend or family member who accompanied them.
A glimpse of my baby girl lasted only a few seconds, immediately followed by an outburst of “Daddy Tears”.
Fortunately UCI Medical Center had a program that specifically addressed the uneasiness Caitlin was experiencing.
The program’s purpose was to help in the adjustment of the children or siblings of patients to the reality of a trauma hospital, through its use of dolls dressed in hospital garb (bandages, IV lines, etc) and other similarly themed toys.
This was truly a blessing for my family.
One, it gave Kristi an opportunity to not have to rely upon a friend or family member to tag-along with her when she visited me.
Two, the UCIMC staff provided a safe and caring environment for Caitlin.
And finally, the program eased Caitlin’s fears, and provided her the means to handle herself in such a traumatic environment.
I don’t recall the amount of time or visits it took Caitlin to become comfortable enough to set foot within my room and say “Hi Daddy”.
But I do recall in vivid detail the time Caitlin walked into my room, climbed upon my bed, placing her head on my chest, and we just hugged.
My baby girl was in my arms once again!
She talked, we loved on each other, and she just lay upon my chest for nearly thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes which were the most precious time I had ever experienced with her, rivaled only by my presence during her birth.
Years later, Caitlin was presented another hospital challenge, this time involving a close friend.
Maryclare and Caitlin grew up as buddies, our two families close.
Maryclare had to battle cancer; treatments, surgical procedures, and loss of hair.
When presented an opportunity to visit with Maryclare, Caitlin made no hesitation.
The scariness of the children’s hospital was nonexistent.
Caitlin just climbed upon the hospital bed and played games with Maryclare, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
As a Dad it is wonderful to know the depth of compassion Caitlin has demonstrated, which I believe was influenced by her interaction with me during my medical crisis.
Today Maryclare is doing great, having overcome her trials, and continues to be a vibrant blessing to many.
I had my daughter back. I began to feel like a Daddy again.
During this phase of my recuperation, I was forced to be patient.
Endure the wait for the severe abdominal damage to heal and become stable, unwearied for the opportunity to move back into the role of Daddy and Husband.
I took advantage of the forced slow down to look and learn.
My sets of priorities were under self scrutiny, a period of re-focus was taking place.
It became apparent to me that there were areas where I could better apply my time and effort.
Not that my relationship with my daughter was off per se, rather I did distinguish how strongly based we were.
I recognized that I had to pick up being a parent again, for there was room for improvement.
I ached to be a Dad again. Caitlin needed me as well.
My goal morphed from just wanting to heal and get out of the hospital, to endure and persevere through whatever lays ahead so that I could continue to be Caitlin’s Daddy.
To be continued…
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The opinions expressed on this site are my own and do not necessarily represent those of my employer.
© 2011, Jeff Brunn
