My wife and I learned during Holy Week that our daughter in the womb has a fatal condition called anencephaly; since then we have struggled to share with Vivian the little bit of life she has. My wife has done what she can to stay healthy, exercise, and eat well. She’s made our daughter birthday gifts to present to her at her hoped for day of birth. She’s felt her roll and kick in the womb, savoring those precious gifts from Vivian.
Prior to this experience, when pondering the meaning of fatherhood, I would have thought of showing my children affection, forming their character, teaching them their parts of speech, instructing them in the faith, or playing games of all sorts. I have been able to do these things and more with my son. My daughter will not likely have the opportunity to see me smile at her, hear my words of affection, or feel me holding her. Anencephaly doesn’t generally allow for such sensations.
I have come to the conclusion that what it means to be a father to Vivian is this: I am there with her, suffering with her, even if she cannot know me. Is this experience of fatherhood in any way akin to the fatherhood of God, who loves and weeps for his children? God doesn’t always get what he wants. He is our loving Father, not a cosmic engineer who prevents all disasters or fixes all breakdowns in the system. We certainly can’t fix our daughter’s condition. Nor could we have prevented it. It happened as many sad events happen. I love her and suffer with her, and therefore I am a father to her. I pray for the grace to be a good one.
My prayers are with you all. What a post this is – and so sacramental. It speaks to the heart of a life of faith. No matter what I write, my words fall short, so I will leave it at that and just say thank you, God bless you.
Kyle,
I pray for you and your family, that you all may receive the grace and peace of Christ through this time. Perhaps your grace and peace will provide a holy example for others.
Beautifully tragic. Your love is a testament to grace. Thanks.
Kyle
Aquinas held that in the resurrected life, we get our body as it would have been at its best peak and minus defects plus glorified. Thus he noted that Christ died at 33 which would have been His peak but Aquinas didn’t notice one thing….that repeatedly after the resurrection, people recognized Christ but not right away as on the beach and at Emmaus. Christ’s peak then could have been 26 or 37 and at first this difference made them not recognize Him.
You will see Vivian in the resurrected life when she is about 26 or whatever her peak and she will be minus her disease and she will be glorified and you will know her immediately. As Paul said: “He who raised up Jesus, will raise us up also and place us with you.”
My prayers are with you, Kyle.
Thank you all for the kind words and prayers.
I said a special prayer for you last night at Mass, Kyle.
[...] Kyle Cupp on fatherhood. [...]
Before you totally give up hope, you might read Peter Medawar on anencephaly, in his book ARISTOTLE TO ZOOS.
Kyle, my wife and I, along with my children, will remember you in our Rosary today to pray and wish you all the strength and hope to carry on with this ultimate test of your vocation as a father and a parent. The ultimate test of genuine love is when one does not expect anything in return. Your willingness to choose this narrow road, shows your incredible faith. You are one in a million. Where there is life, there is always the image and likeness of God.