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	<title>Comments on: Fatherhood</title>
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	<link>http://www.mckeeth.org/2004/10/fatherhood/</link>
	<description>Jim McKeeth's blog about everything else</description>
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		<title>By: Elizabeth</title>
		<link>http://www.mckeeth.org/2004/10/fatherhood/comment-page-1/#comment-8</link>
		<dc:creator>Elizabeth</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 11 Nov 2004 15:46:00 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description>It&#039;s a belated comment, for which I&#039;m sorry.  I read this weeks ago and meant to reply when I had time to be thoughtful.  -- an indication, I suppose, of how rarely I get such time.  

Both the post and the comment that followed say so much about what it means to be a parent.

I remember the first time I looked at Mary feeling the predictable overhwleming joy -- and that it rode in on a crest of sadness.  For the first time in my life I was completely and utterly vulnerable. I knew that if anything ever happened to her I could never be okay again.  Who cares about your damn jacket when your kid is bleeding?  Who cares about ANYTHING when your kid is bleeding?  If your kid isn&#039;t okay, you&#039;re not okay.  How terrifying that two years of this has exhausted me and God willing, I have a lifetime of it ahead.  She&#039;ll be seventy and I still won&#039;t be okay if she isn&#039;t okay.</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>It&#8217;s a belated comment, for which I&#8217;m sorry.  I read this weeks ago and meant to reply when I had time to be thoughtful.  &#8212; an indication, I suppose, of how rarely I get such time.  </p>
<p>Both the post and the comment that followed say so much about what it means to be a parent.</p>
<p>I remember the first time I looked at Mary feeling the predictable overhwleming joy &#8212; and that it rode in on a crest of sadness.  For the first time in my life I was completely and utterly vulnerable. I knew that if anything ever happened to her I could never be okay again.  Who cares about your damn jacket when your kid is bleeding?  Who cares about ANYTHING when your kid is bleeding?  If your kid isn&#8217;t okay, you&#8217;re not okay.  How terrifying that two years of this has exhausted me and God willing, I have a lifetime of it ahead.  She&#8217;ll be seventy and I still won&#8217;t be okay if she isn&#8217;t okay.</p>
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		<title>By: Anonymous</title>
		<link>http://www.mckeeth.org/2004/10/fatherhood/comment-page-1/#comment-7</link>
		<dc:creator>Anonymous</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 02 Nov 2004 12:52:00 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description>It is interesting that you chose to send me this story.  IT almost makes me cry.  Believe it or not, this is one of my fondest memories of him.  

Since when I actually fell we were alone on the top of the mountain, I was the one who told Dad his jacket was being ruined as he carried me down.  What he said was that I was more important than his jacket.  You and I both know that we rarely had nice things growing up and that there was even more care to be taken around something nice for Dad&#039;s (this was something Mom impressed on us).  At the time, being told I was more important that a jacket was better than being told that he loved me -- I was being shown that he did. 

Thanks for sharing this with me.

Amanda (I don&#039;t have a Blog account that&#039;s why I&#039;m posting anonymous)</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>It is interesting that you chose to send me this story.  IT almost makes me cry.  Believe it or not, this is one of my fondest memories of him.  </p>
<p>Since when I actually fell we were alone on the top of the mountain, I was the one who told Dad his jacket was being ruined as he carried me down.  What he said was that I was more important than his jacket.  You and I both know that we rarely had nice things growing up and that there was even more care to be taken around something nice for Dad&#8217;s (this was something Mom impressed on us).  At the time, being told I was more important that a jacket was better than being told that he loved me &#8212; I was being shown that he did. </p>
<p>Thanks for sharing this with me.</p>
<p>Amanda (I don&#8217;t have a Blog account that&#8217;s why I&#8217;m posting anonymous)</p>
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