At What Cost?

After nine months of fighting, we finally got our day in court.

Without getting into the details, here are the basics: I have spent the last 10 years wishing to spend more time with my oldest son with less interference from his mom. I was always afraid to fight her for that time in court until two back-to-back incidents last spring convinced me it was time to stand up for my rights as a father, and for our rights as a family.

And yet, I was still scared to do anything about it. With my wife's loving nudge and encouragement, I finally sued my e-wife for more time with my son.

The process took nine months, five attorneys, one judge and stupid amounts of money to settle. And as of today, it IS settled. But am I? Is my wife? Is my son? Is his mom? Is my youngest son? At this point, I don't know. The case has only been settled for 9 hours as of this writing, so it's still too fresh. I have a general feel for what the papers say, but I need a couple of days of distance to be able to look at it with clear eyes and a clear mind and really comprehend it.

So when friends on social media or in face-to-face conversation ask me how it went, I find myself simply saying "it went well," and leaving it at that. And I'm not lying. It did go well. It also went horribly. It went in a way that is depressing. It also went in a way that is depleting. I'm tired and worn out emotionally. It has been a worm that has consumed my every waking moment for almost a year. This experience has been soul-sucking, not only for me, but also for my wife. 

The stress and pressure continue because there are parts of the agreement that made my wife disappointed with me. And that hurts, because I truly did my best to stand up for our family as best I could, while at the same time knowing that we wouldn't get everything we wanted. That's part of the negotiation process. No matter how right you are, you still don't get everything you want.

So did we win? Yes. We got more time with less interference, which was our goal...even if it wasn't as much time as we wanted to get.

Did we lose? Yes. Right now I am a physical wreck. I want to sleep, but my mind won't shut up long enough to allow that. I have slept for a total of 10 hours in the past two nights. And then there's the question of the money. We spent nine months paying five attorneys to do what we should have been able to sit down and work out together in a matter of days, maybe with just one attorney. But my son's mother and I were both prideful. We were stubborn. We were immature in some ways. And above all, we both HAD to be RIGHT.

Yes, we won. But at what cost? There are no true winners in these situations. 

There are so many ways that It's a Wonderful Life ties into this.

• Yes, it cost money. And yes, the bills will be painful for a while. But like George Bailey, we fought for our family. And for that, the price can never be too high.
• There was a moment in the negotiations where I had to firmly put my foot down and strongly and clearly say that I would not accept one of her requests. But I followed it up with an encouraging word that there were still alternatives to consider. It was very much like George during the bank run when he told the mob "We can get through this, but ... we've got to have faith in each other." The truth is that I have no faith in the ex. But I had to trust that she would be rational enough to help create a solution instead of continuing to be part of the problem.
• At the beginning of It's a Wonderful Life, we hear prayers from Gower, Mary, Ma Bailey, Nick, Janey, and a host of others as they pray for George. These are called prayers of intersession. Having kept this issue mostly private, I took to Facebook on the morning of the trial/negotiations, requesting support from everyone who was willing to give it:

         

Our friends and family came through in huge ways. I even had someone offer to take me up on the Footloose video. THANK YOU ALL for that support. I can honestly tell you that it did have a calming effect on me as I sat in the negotiations.

We all have choices to make. George could have let his brother drown. He could have chosen to go to college and let the Building and Loan close instead of taking his father’s position. He didn't do either of those things, and it cost him. Over and over and over again, it cost him. But he made those decisions - those sacrifices and hard choices - to protect his family. I did the same and I would do it again in a minute. I might do a couple of things a little differently, but I in general, I like the outcome.

Now we have a choice to make. We can be grateful and celebrate what we DID get, knowing that God has this and it's part of His plan, or we can let the sacrifices that we made eat us alive. 

In short, we can be right, or we can be happy. I choose to be happy. After all, it's finally over and we got extra time with my oldest son on a regular basis. We have plans for that time, and we're taking the little brother along with us. Maybe we’ll climb Mt. Bedford.

What have you done lately where counting the cost hurts, but it's still worth the effort? Feel free to comment below. While you are at it, show your support for fathers everywhere by tweeting #fathershaverightstoo and tag me at @iawlfan and @iawb.

In the waiting room

The word for today is "waiting."

Kaleb had surgery this morning. Without going into the gory details, it was elective surgery designed to correctly complete an elective surgery that was not very successful the day after he was born. 'Nuff said.

I went to bed early...9:30 p.m. on Monday night...and actually managed to fall asleep right away. Kaleb was already in bed at the time. Jenn, for some reason (maybe the Dr. Pepper????) was wide awake and decided to stay up for a bit. Glad she did, because Kaleb woke up at 10:30 p.m. and was hungry. She came to bed again shortly after he zonked out again.

It was surprisingly easy to get moving this morning when the alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. I got showered and dressed and started making sure everything was packed and ready to go. Jenn got up shortly after and did the same. We got Kaleb up about 15 minutes before we left.

We were the first customers at McDonald's at 5:01 a.m. and actually had to wait for them to get the register ready. Then it was off to the hospital in Toledo.

We got there at 5:45, valet parking (trusting your car is a difficult thing to do, even if he has a name tag and hospital logo on his shirt!!!!) and got K-Bob registered. By then he was wide awake and was running up and down the halls and babbling at the top of his lungs. He loves to listen to echoes, and hospital hallways are good places to hear them.

We waited for 20 minutes before we were called upstairs to pre-op, where we waited some more. We held him the entire time in pre-op, where a number of things surprised me. The first most surprising thing was how open it was. We were in plain view of 4 other beds filled with 4 other patients. Somehow, it seems Health Insurance Privacy Protection Act law, which prevents hospitals from even acknowledging you exist, even to family members who call to inquire about your well-being, have managed to protect your privacy from the guy on the next gurney. Weird.

The second strange thing about pre-op is how many times you are asked the same exact question by countless number of people, regardless of how many times it is written on all of their multiple charts. I can't even begin to tell you how many times we were asked the following questions:

• Does he have any allergies?
• When was the last time he ate?
• Is there a family history of trouble with anesthetics?
• I see he had RSV. Tell me about that.
• When was the last time he took medication of any kind?
• What is the air velocity of an unladen swallow? (bonus points for those who catch this reference)

Ad nauseum; ad infinitum; lather, rinse, repeat.

We spent more than an hour in pre-op answering the same 5 questions over and over again. I think 6 people quizzed us using the same test questions.

And then Kaleb was off to the races, wrapped in a warm blanket and whisked away to the operating room while we were left alone to figure out that we were to leave and make our way to the waiting room all by our lonesome. It's a good thing we both have broad shoulders because we were really left out to dry. I should mention that in their "suggestion box." Some parents who have just handed their child off to a stranger who is going to knock him out cold and cut him might not have their wits about them quite as much as we did.

So now, after an hour and 20 minutes of waiting, the REAL waiting began.

Jenn and I snagged some really runny, cold eggs, tater tots (hmm...I should watch Napoleon Dynamite again), and bacon (Jenn gave me hers because it was more like pig jerky than bacon), and then returned to the waiting room. Jenn read a few pages in a book and then cried her eyes out while Good Morning America or the Today Show, or whatever it was, showed bits and pieces of the last interview of Patrick Swayze interspersed with appropriate (or inappropriate?) clips from his film "Ghost." I have been informed by Jenn that not only will we be watching the interview when it airs tonight, we will ALSO be watching Dirty Dancing sometime soon. Sounds like a good reason to me to go get lost in a corn field on purpose!!!!

I read a few pages in my book, but had a hard time concentrating. I was clock-watching instead.

An hour later, almost to the minute (now about 8:20 a.m.) the doctor who performed the surgery came down and updated us and gave us some after-care instruction. His update and instructions alike were pretty graphic. Again, this was in front of everyone in the waiting room; HIPPA laws be damned.

We then waited for permission to return upstairs. This was another 10-minute wait. During that time, Jenn's mother arrived and began waiting with us. She came up because we needed to make sure that Jenn and Kaleb got home safely and quickly. I couldn't go home because I had an interview scheduled for 11 a.m. in Perrysburg. More about that later.

So we finally get called to go back up and see our little guy, and when we arrive, he is still unconscious (he was put completely under, including an IV for this procedure). So again, we waited for him to wake up. That took about 20 minutes, during which time we got additional after-care instruction from a nurse, asked a bunch of questions, and signed a bunch of papers.

When Kaleb finally woke up, he was RAVENOUS. He downed three bottles of sugar water provided by the hospital before he finally settled. He fought the nurse when she tried to take out his IV. Jenn held him, and I had to get involved by holding his arm still so the nurse could cut away the gauze that held the IV in place.

Now, I get blood tests once each year for a condition I have had since birth. I can watch them stick me and draw blood all day, but IVs are something that turn my stomach when they have tried to give them to me in the past. To watch them give them to or take them out of someone else is completely intolerable. I can't even watch people getting flu shots on the news.

So you have to appreciate the vision of me squatted down next to Jenn, who is seated comfortably in a chair holding onto Kaleb for dear life as he kicks and screams. In the meantime, I am holding Kaleb's arm still so the nurse can cut off the bandage and remove the IV, and all of this is happening at eye-level. MY eye level. Blech.

With that trauma finally over with, we get to take him home, only THIS time, we are escorted back to the waiting room.

Jenn, Kaleb and Elaine climbed in one vehicle and head back to Bowling Green while I climbed in our van and head toward Perrysburg for my interview.

(Before I move on to the interview portion, I want to inform you that Kaleb is doing VERY well. He is back to his babbling; he is walking, though gingerly, and he is for the most part happy. He is sleeping a LOT, eating monstrous amounts of anything he can get his hands on, and is being his all-around monster-ham self. Now, we return to our regularly-scheduled program).

This interview was scheduled two weeks prior. Jenn and I had talked right before I received the phone call and she gave me some advice, which was this: Pick a time in the middle of the pack. If you are first, they will forget you. If you are last, they already have their minds made up by the time you get in there.

So being a good listener, I chose the middle day when I was given the choice. Wouldn't you know it, I picked the same day as Kaleb's surgery and damned if I didn't hear about it for two weeks straight. Oh well. My fault. I neglected to add Kaleb's surgery to my Google calendar. My fault and I admit it. But I wasn't about to change the interview for fear of losing whatever good standing I may or may not have had.

Here's the rub: I wore my street clothes to the surgery with the intent of changing while we were waiting for Kaleb to be released. That happened way earlier than expected. So I drove to the Way Public Library in Perrysburg and changed in their public restroom. Ever do that? It's really uncomfortable standing there in your skivvies while people walk in, do their business, and leave. I caught two people who neglected to wash after doing the deed. Nasty.

It's also distracting when the motion-sensing toilet in your stall is flushing every two minutes because you are setting it while changing your clothes.

So I did that, read a little bit, and got my head in a good place for the interview before I drove the two blocks and jumped in the snake pit.

For those of you not paying attention to this blog, I applied for a dispatching position with the City of Perrysburg Police Department.

I think things went pretty well. I answered the questions as best I could; I only regret one answer. I didn't say anything bad; I was just taken off-guard and gave a really weak response.

I also learned some new things. I originally was told that there were 16 finalists. Now there are either 14 or 15. I don't know why that number went down and I don't care, either. Maybe they found a new job, or maybe their background check disqualified them.

I was under the assumption that after this week's round of first interviews, the final two would be chosen, contacted, and put through a psychological examination, a physical, and a drug test, followed by a SECOND interview. I was under the assumption that then and only then would the selection committee make a recommendation to council.

I was wrong. This was the ONLY interview. It was my last chance to make a good impression. I hope I did what I needed to do. Any examinations and tests, I was informed, will be done AFTER the job is offered to someone.

I was told that I should know my fate by the end of NEXT week (by Sept. 26).

I have done all I can do.

Now, I wait...

The Waiting Game: "Have You Learned Patience Yet?"

I have taken the next big step in the process of trying to get the dispatching job and turned in my background check packet the last week of July. Now it is just a waiting game to see what happens next.

I feel pretty good about it. I know what is in my background. It's pretty boring. But that didn't make the background check difficult to fill out. It was about 15 pages of very personal questions, and included things that I can't believe would affect my ability to do or not do this job. But I get it: It's also a test to see if I am honest and can be trusted. I prided myself in building those trusting relationships in my last job, so we'll see if I can build that same kind of trust here.

I turned in the packet three days before the deadline, and thought that it would be assigned to an investigator shortly after they received it. Turns out, that is not the case. When I called last week to make sure they got it, and if they needed any other information, the detective informed me that they did get it, but it hadn't been assigned to an investigator yet. That was a week to the day after I turned it in.

Sometimes things happen that resonate across many aspects of my life. For many months now, my oldest son and I have talked about being patient and learning patience. Whether it is in a doctor's office waiting room or in traffic, or any number of other places, sometimes we just have to wait for things to happen and we can't control how quickly it happens.

Just this past Wednesday, Evan and I were driving around and we got to a particular intersection that, according to the Ohio Department of Transportation, is mis-marked. It is a two-way stop, but the stop signs are facing the wrong direction. They should face the east and west sides of the intersection, not the north and south sides. At either rate, nobody in town treats it like a two-way stop. People turn left there in front of others all of the time.

I, on the other hand, get pretty frustrated when people don't follow basic traffic laws. I also hate turning left. I'll go out of my way in order to make all right-hand turns if it means a less stressful drive to my destination. So I get to the intersection, with Evan in the back, and I stop behind a car that has been going 20 MPH all 2 miles up a 35 MPH road, so I'm already frustrated from being stuck behind a car that deserves a slow moving vehicle triangle. The driver c.....r.....e.....e.....p.....s through the intersection.

So I wait for the big delivery truck coming the opposite way to take his turn. He was there first, it's a 2-way stop, and I intend to turn left. I have not yet turned on my blinker because I have come to anticipate situations just like what I am experiencing here: The driver just sits there, like it's my turn. I want to turn left, he is going straight, and he was there first. It is clearly his turn. But no. There is absolutely no movement on his side.

I start to wonder if he is having a heart attack or something that is preventing him from driving in a forward motion. Then I see him check for oncoming traffic for what seems to me to be the fifth time, and the road is empty. There is nothing for miles. I literally had not seen that particular road that empty for years.

Then another vehicle pulls up behind the truck at the stop sign. Knowing that I intend to turn left, I know I will have to wait for the guy behind the truck as well since I try very hard to follow traffic laws.

It is at this point that I say (out loud) "screw this," along with another colorful word or two of choice words, and CROSS the empty intersection, and the oncoming truck still has not moved. That is why I didn't turn on my turn signal: because most of the time, I end up going straight through that particular intersection out of frustration and people's ignorance about how a two-way stop works. Instead, I will drive around the block. It's quicker than waiting any more.

So after my very brief one-line outburst, my oldest son (he's in the back seat, remember? I didn't...oops!!!!) says to me, "have you learned patience yet, Dad?"

What could I say? He's smart and he had me cold right after a moment of frustration. I responded the only way I could "Not today, I haven't."

"I can teach you," he offered.

"You learned patience already?" I asked him, starting to smile.

"I learned it last week. At school."

I had to laugh. It also made me think about how the day before I had found out that an investigator hadn't started looking at my background check yet.

Isn't it strange how a simple incident can turn into an across-the-board lesson...or at least a reminder?

I'm ready to go back to work full-time. I'm ready to interview and prove to them why I am absolutely perfect for this dispatching job.

I'm ready to talk to them and convince them that while I was a journalist, dispatching is a serious profession that I am honestly pursuing: This is not a temporary or fill-in job for me. This is a conscious effort to change my career path and my family's future. This is the direction that I am dedicated to going.

I am ready for the next step and I am anxious to work. I just have to continue being patient. Hopefully, my son will continue to help me with that.

Baby steps: Moving forward

I am trying very hard to keep this in perspective, and remain calmly optimistic, but it's hard to not get excited by the possibility...

I took the typing test for the Perrysburg dispatcher job. Remember, I got an 81 percent on the written test when I expected to fail it. I took the typing test on July 1, and scored 68.59 words per minute with zero errors. I was quite pleased with that, and figured I at least secured my place in the top 6 who were to be interviewed.

But 20 days later, which was Tuesday, I hadn't heard anything...not a "congrats, you've moved to the next step," or even a "too bad, so sad, you didn't make the cut."

So I made a phone call to the human resources office, and she was just chock full of information that she just voluntarily shared. Here are how the numbers broke down:

250 people applied for the job
175 people took the written test
48 people passed the test and continued on to the typing test
4 people tied for the second highest score and 8 people tied for the sixth highest score, SO
Since the top 6 scores will be subjected to the background check, there are 16 people in the running.
She then informed me that the highest score on the written test was 87.
I scored an 81
I tied with 3 other people for "second place" in the current running.

That means I am in the top 5!!!!!!!

This morning, I received a phone call from a Perrysburg Police detective. I will go up to meet him tomorrow morning to get my "background check packet" to fill out and I will be fingerprinted as part of the background check.

I have no idea what the "background check packet " includes, but he said it is extensive and I have a week to return it. My goal is to pick it up Thursday and return it Friday.

I know my background has nothing untoward in it, except for a couple of really OLD speeding tickets, so barring any surprises, I should be moving on with the first interview!!!!

Please keep your fingers crossed for me, pray, send good karma, throw your magic 8 ball at me, do a little good luck dance, or whatever it is that you believe. I will gladly accept it all!!!!!!!

...And to think, I almost quit in the middle of the written test and walked away for good...