The Dad He Didn't Have to Be

My niece giving my brother a little shout out with some help from her mom.

I always said Brock would be the first of my siblings to have a kid.

For some reason I had always pictured fatherhood being plied upon him on the tails of an adolescent mistake. Maybe it just seemed like the fitting natural evolution of a mischievous middle child who had earned the nickname "Dennis the Menace" by doing things like dumping an industrial sized ice cream container full of brown sugar over his head, building a perfect little teepee fire on my parents' bedroom floor and interrupting my seventh birthday party to demand, with all the authority a 3-and-half-year old could possibly muster, that my friends take off their clothes.

Maybe it was the near reckless abandon he showed on the ice-- charging, provoking, taunting-- throwing his whole body into massive checks and shaking off hits without thought of danger, injury or other repercussions.

Maybe it was simply that I legitimately once had to walk him through the process of how to obtain Plan B emergency contraceptives.

In any case, I didn't give him nearly enough credit. Brock was the first of us to step into parenthood, but I never could have imagined that he would willfully choose to take on the responsibility of raising and  more importantly, unconditionally loving, another man's biological child at the still very young age of 21.

This probably needs a little explaining.

Brock and Kelsie met in 2010 when they were both teenagers and had a summer fling (as so many teenagers do). But when the end of summer took Kelsie back to the other side of the country, the distance eventually wore at the intensity of their relationship. They stayed friends. Brock went back to play junior hockey. Kelsie dated someone new, and ended up getting pregnant. Things didn't work out with her baby's father, and somewhere along the way Brock and Kelsie decided they still loved each other. Shortly before Christmas last year my mom told me they were thinking about moving in together.

Instantly, a flurry of thoughts and emotions swirled in my mind. Yay, a baby. I love babies! was quickly supplanted by I'm not sure he knows what he's getting himself into. I imagined sitting him down, waging a finger at him and echoing the same words my grandmother shrieked at my then 18-year old father in late 1987: "You have 18 years of responsibility to this child! Are you ready for that?"

I asked him some pretty serious questions over the Christmas break and we talked at length about the decisions he had to make. I knew a part of him longed to go back to school, travel the world, enjoy nights out with the boys. In short-- things that would become a lot more difficult with a child in tow. I asked him about whether he and Kelsie had talked about marriage, or more kids so Bella had siblings near in age and he surprised me by telling me they had. Even so, I implored him to search his heart, to be honest with himself and to make sure that he made the decision that was right for him and to do it before he got involved in that baby's life.

"You have to be very, very sure," I told him. "Once you're in, there is no turning back." He may not be legally obligated to Kelsie or her baby, but from mine and my parents' perspectives, stepping in meant he was accountable. There could be no stepping down.

Throughout the holidays I watched him, and noted the way he proudly showed off pictures and video Kelsie had sent him of Bella's first Christmas. It's like she's his kid, I marveled, and I hoped for all their sakes that this relationship would really work.

But I still had my misgivings, and they proved not entirely unfounded when Kelsie and Bella visited him in the spring. Much as he loves Kelsie and hit it off with Bella, the question of whether he was truly fully invested still hung over us all. When Kelsie and Bella returned to the east coast a little while later all I could do was pray that whatever happened next, it would be the best outcome for all of them.

Pretty soon I was informed that a move was on... the girls were joining Brock on the west coast, and this new chapter in Brock's life was about to start. Still, the first time Brock used a possessive term in relation to Bella in a post on Facebook it took me off guard. "My little girl". Guys have serious relationships with single moms all the time, but for most of them it would be "my girlfriend's little girl".

Well, there's that bridge crossed, I thought. He is irrevocably in. I hope he's sure. I hope he knows. I hope he's in it for the long term.

And then I saw this picture...

Uncle JT meeting Bella for the first time.

Now, normally, my eyes would zero in on Bella's adorable little features, but this time, something about Brock's face drew me in. I've seen that face before, I realized. The easy smile, the bright continence, the almost bewildered sense of wonder-- I've seen it many times on my dad's face, most recently when I graduated from university. It's a look of pride. Of gratification. Of admiration. Of, well, love.

That Brock could love Bella does not surprise me. He is great with kids and let's face it, she's adorable! That Brock could love her enough to look at her anywhere near the same way my dad looks at me, that is what touches me. If he continues to model his commitment, love and support after our dad, then Bella will be a very lucky little girl.

I understand this is not a fait accomplit. There are risks involved. Relationships can be fickle and they have their fair share of obstacles stacked in front of them. But Brock is as hard-headed as they come. If Kelsie has even half the determined, stubborn, mule-headedness he has then they will be just fine because they will not give up. They will work to make it work. 

I look at Brock with Bella and I love her because he loves her. (I also love seeing my dad with Bella). I can't wait to play with her and get to know her mom as a friend and a sister. I am so proud of my little brother and the man he is becoming, and I'm sure that some day Bella will thank him for being the dad he didn't have to be.

In case you were wondering, the blog title was inspired by an old Brad Paisley song.