Children Lost to Time

My identical twin daughters were born six weeks premature, with tiny hands that weren't much bigger than the end of my thumb. They spent six weeks in a hospital special care unit before we could bring them home, and I was not going to let this experience pass me by.

So, I applied for my long service, which gave me three months of paid leave. Staying home to bond with our new arrivals and to help out my wife, who was struggling as it was, I thought was a good idea, but my wife wasn't so sure.

It was tough for us both, with many sleepless nights, which caused my wife to be ultra tense. After all, I was supposed to be at work, not there under her feet and annoying her.

But, I had no regrets as far as that decision was concerned, and as they grew, the three of us became close...very close. We were affectionate and spoke about anything and everything. I happily took on the majority of the responsibility for teaching them about life, even explaining to them at age eleven that they were soon to have their first period and what that meant to their future. Sex, pregnancy and STDs, all without embarrassment or fear of how they might react. I told them everything about my past and how I saw the world...sharing both the good and the bad.

One broke her arm at age five...a greenstick fracture which had to be set in the hospital and required sedation for the procedure.

When she came out of sedation and was offered a sandwich and banana milk, ”Not until my daddy gets here."

And, as soon as I arrived, she began to eat. They even look like me, with the same blonde hair I had as a youngster...and we loved each other very much. That was how things were up until they were twelve years old, but then things changed.

They are seventeen now and living with their mom. Up until the age of twelve, they would come to stay with me every other weekend, but then they started coming less and less. I pleaded with them, telling them we needed each other and how important it was that we remain strong.

Then, their mom met a new guy. He had two boys around the same age as my girls and it was fun for them. Their dad was cool and soon, they all moved in together.

When they came to visit me, something was missing...family...something I couldn't give them because I was scared...I am still scared...to meet someone new and risk going through all of that again. I am OK with being alone...because I am rarely alone, but they didn't see it this way.

I became hurt because they stopped visiting and eventually, all communication ceased...at least for a while. I tried so hard to keep them in my life. I told them how sorry I was that things had gotten so bad, but to no avail. I last saw them in January 2018, and apart from a few emails when they need something only I can do, there's been little contact. A father abandoned by the two I love most in this one life I have been given.

People say this and that, giving me their opinions on what I should or should not do...but, I don't care what they think. I only care what my daughters think. And at the moment, they don't think much of me. I must respect their decision, bide my time and wait for the day I get that call...to hear the words I so long for...“Hi dad."

Part II

Eighteen months ago, I did get my “Hi Dad” moment in the form of a letter from one of them, which changed things for the better. Patience has not been easy for me, but so far, I have managed not to blow it. It is so hard not having them in my life the way I would like them to be. So, I wait and live in hope. What else I can do?

Part III

Is it bad that I have virtually given up on ever being a dad to them? Because that's what I have done.

Four years of waiting, pleading, begging and crying for what we have lost will change a person. Acceptance has been one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. To let go because I wasn't wanted or needed sent me into a very dark place. Now, I've come out the other side with a better understanding...the why's don't matter anymore. Not like they used to where I was never told why I was no longer loved or cared about. Oh, but I still carry the weight of their judgement...how can I not?

When I first held them, a chemical was released in my brain that bonded me to them and so far, it's been impossible to break. Many nights I have wished for that to happen, and on some of those nights, I would have considered a frontal lobotomy...or a pill to make me forget that I am a father to children who don't know what they have done. One day they will realise...when they hold their own child...but by then, it will be too late...it feels like it is already too late.

My heart was a vase that shattered into a million splinters...the deepest of loves that cannot be put back together...only swept away to a distant memory.