I became a father at 52 after a four-year surrogacy journey. After a lifetime without love, my daughter Sara changed everything. But as our bond grew stronger, I discovered that even the most beautiful forms of love can bring unexpected challenges—
Love.
It is the force that drives the entire universe. It is what creates us, and it is what so many of us live for. We dream about it, long for it, and often find ourselves willing to do the impossible to attain it.
There are many kinds of love: love of God, romantic love, friendship, love for animals, and more. Yet one of the most powerful forms of love—perhaps the most powerful of all—is the love that exists within a family, especially between parents and their children.
The reason is simple. It is unconditional love. A lasting, enduring love that asks for very little in return beyond the desire to be together.
Love is also one of the reasons so many people dream of becoming parents at some point in their lives. It offers the opportunity to experience what may be the purest and most rewarding form of love, one that can stay with us for the rest of our lives.
A parent’s love can inspire sacrifices they never imagined making. It can lead someone to stay in a job they hate, force themselves to be polite to people they would rather avoid, and endure hardships they would otherwise refuse to tolerate—all for the benefit of their son or daughter. It is a kind of love in which sacrifice is often absolute and willingly given.
There is almost nothing a parent would not do for their children, and when that love is returned, we become the most complete versions of ourselves.
But what happens when your child loves you so much that she refuses to accept the company of almost anyone else?
Four Years of Waiting for Love
I became a father for the first time at the age of 52, after a lifetime largely devoid of love in any meaningful form.
It is difficult to point to a single reason why I chose to embark on such a demanding journey at such a late stage in life, but I believe that the desire to finally experience love was one of the main reasons. I had long since given up on romantic love, and the love of a child seemed like the only meaningful possibility that remained.
Throughout four exhausting years of the surrogacy process, I could only imagine the kind of love waiting for me at the end of the rainbow. The thought of it kept me moving forward despite the endless obstacles that seemed to multiply as the due date approached.
When my daughter Sara was born, I finally understood why those four years had been worth every struggle.
A love that had been absent from my life for more than half a century arrived all at once and transformed me completely. From the very first second, I knew I would dedicate my life to my daughter’s well-being, and that there was nothing I wanted more than to be the most important person in her life.
The Little Girl Who Wants Only Dad
I spoil my daughter far more than I probably should. My mother often scolds me for taking it too far. Based on the first eight months of Sara’s life, I would say my efforts have been successful—perhaps a little too successful.
Sara is so attached to me that she rarely wants to be apart from me, day or night. Whenever I am nearby, she demands my full attention. If I am busy and cannot come to her immediately, she makes sure to remind me—loudly—that she is waiting for me to pick her up.
Being in her father’s arms is, in her opinion, the perfect place to be.
The same thing happens at night. Even after she is supposed to be asleep, she sometimes calls for me. I pick her up, hold her for a few minutes, and only then does she calm down and drift back to sleep.
Sara loves her father. At least as much as her father loves her.
But sometimes that unwavering preference creates frustration for other family members who love her dearly and find themselves left behind.
The Grandmother Who Loves Sara More Than Anyone
The most difficult example is my mother, Sara’s grandmother—the woman after whom Sara was named.
I have written before that no one in the world loves Sara more than her grandmother does.
My mother, who turns 76 tomorrow, has become deeply attached to her granddaughter in a way that is difficult to describe. These days, it seems as though her entire world revolves around Sara.
My mother is also Sara’s caregiver and performs that role with limitless devotion. She sacrifices not only her time but often her own physical well-being. Lifting a baby who weighs more than eighteen pounds over and over again throughout the day is not easy, especially for someone who suffers from chronic back pain.
Yet the happiest grandmother in the world never complains.
On the contrary, she willingly pays the price of love and brushes off my concerns whenever I point them out.
Sara loves her grandmother too, but there is one important condition:
Only when Dad is not around.
The moment I enter the room, the person who loves Sara more than anyone else in the world instantly loses her status. No amount of toys, smiles, or affection can compete. If my mother is holding Sara and Sara suddenly sees me, she will cry, squirm, and demand to be transferred into my arms immediately.
Needless to say, my mother is deeply hurt by her youngest granddaughter’s behavior.
But Sara is not interested in any of that.
In every situation, she wants only her father.
Can There Be Such a Thing as Too Much Love?
This is unconditional love in both directions.
Sara and I share a bond that feels limitless.
For most of my life, this was exactly what I dreamed of. Yet as time passes, I am beginning to understand the challenges that come with such a powerful connection.
My hope has always been that Sara would grow into an independent and confident child. That hope feels less realistic these days because she is attached to her father to such a degree that it sometimes makes it difficult for her to open herself up to others, including my mother, my sister, and many wonderful people who would love nothing more than to spend time with her.
At times, I worry that Sara’s love for her father is beginning to turn into a dependency that could slow her development.
In about two and a half months, Sara will begin daycare. I am already anticipating the challenges she may face as she adjusts to being around children her own age and learning to accept guidance from caregivers who are not her father.
As I have mentioned in previous posts, I shower Sara with endless affection and attention largely because she does not have a mother. I do everything I can to give her enough love for two parents, hoping that she will never feel the absence of what she does not have.
But I am beginning to realize that even love can become excessive.
My mother’s advice has been to gently encourage Sara to become more independent, especially when it comes to her constant need to be in my arms, nestled in the rocking-chair position she loves so much.
Sara, however, is not ready to cooperate. When she does not get what she wants, she makes her displeasure known to the entire world.
This has become one of the greatest challenges I have faced as a father.
At the moment, it feels bigger than I am.
Denying Sara the level of attention and comfort she has become accustomed to—something that is entirely my fault—is incredibly difficult. I need to be strong enough to follow through.
I am not sure that I can.
But for Sara’s future, I have no choice but to succeed.
As I write these words, I find myself reflecting on something strange:
Sometimes the way we prove our love is by refusing to give it exactly as it is being asked for. Sometimes, the most loving thing we can do is teach someone how to let go.
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