LOVE STORY (BIRTHDAY SEPTEMBER 17 2004)

HARMONY ELIZABETH BOYANTON (Happy birthday)

The book I am writing for my future grandkids, which I will never know, is full of Vietnam Combat War stories to keep them from thinking that glorifying war. My life after that was full of love and happiness; so many stories I will tell, and this is one of my favorites.

PRELUDE

This is the story of my wife and I adopted our last child, a little chubby girl. This was the only time I raised a kid somewhat independently;(my wife had to travel all the time for her work) the raising the girl was mine for some time. Diapers change, hold when sick, put to bed, take to daycare, and pick up. The many adventures, like buying clothes all the time instead of washing, to all the apparatuses I used to clean a dirty butt in the tub, made my wife cringe, but they worked. My daughter, never one to sleep in her baby bed, was taught to read,do math at four years old, I would read a page, and then she would read a page; sometimes, I would try to get her to read two pages, but she never let that happen. We watched television and fought over the remote all the time; one night, we went to sleep, and she had the remote in her hand, holding it at arm’s length away from the bed and me. The time I spent with my little girl was endless. I dropped her off one day at the child care center in downtown Bay Saint Louis, and shortly after getting her, she cried so hard that when I left, my heart was broken. Halfway to my office in New Orleans, I turned around and picked her up, and took her with me. The look in her eyes was a relief, and the hug around my neck was pure love. My day was tough doing business with a baby; most understood those who didn’t. I rescheduled, and all was well. Love conquers all. “NEVER BE AFRAID TO DO THE RIGHT THING”

Now the Story

At 55, my wife called to tell me her niece abandoned her newborn baby, and no one in the family was going to take her; no one but the mother had even seen her since birth. I told my wife I wasn’t interested in a newborn baby girl. We were helping our daughter raise her two 11 and 12-year-old sons, and the last thing we needed was a baby girl; I shit canned that idea quickly.

Wives seem to have a way of bringing up the subject to keep it in your mind whether you want to hear it. She was giving me updates on a baby I had no intention of raising. I started noticing during the day that thoughts came to my mind: Why not the baby? I shrugged them off and went about my business. I came home one night; the baby’s grandmother had sent a tiny picture of the baby, which my wife dutifully showed me as I walked through the door.

One day, driving to Jackson over an issue with my license, thoughts came streaming to my mind about the baby girl and what would happen to her. I had these same feelings in Vietnam, moving during firefights as if I were being led. If you have ever driven between Hattiesburg and Jackson, it is a long and tedious ride by yourself. I realized as it was in war, I was being led to take this baby girl. I often believe I was saved for some more significant purpose in life; maybe my job is to set the table for her or one of my other kids.

I called my wife and told her why she hadn’t checked and seen what it would take to get this little girl. My wife said she was already on it as if she realized I would surrender and relent shortly.

To get the baby quickly, we had to agree to all the expenses, pass a background check, fly up to Seattle, Washington (Everett, Washington), spend a couple of days with the baby, and hopefully take her home. All the expenses meant that if she were sick, we would be responsible for all hospital bills until she was grown. Another option was that the State of Washington would pay us to adopt and provide health care, but it would take six months or more. The idea that the baby would spend six months in a foster home was a no-deal, and I had no guarantees with my kids; I needed none with my new girl. (We got her around six months old.)

With my temper and choice of words, my wife and I decided she would talk with the state when we arrived. This trip hadn’t started on the right foot to begin with, the night before we were leaving for the New Orleans airport at 4 am the following day, they called us to say we couldn’t take the baby home with us; it would take a few trips to Washington. I told my wife to tell them to go to hell, but she had already hung up. I decided we wouldn’t waste any more time and money, which was already costing us a pretty penny, and now they are making it even harder. I woke up the following morning-before 4am and told my wife what the hell with my personality we will end up with the baby, anyway. Let’s go.

The first meeting with the people of Washington State and the lawyer representing my daughter started with a bang. My wife, who would do all the talking, was sidelined. I spoke right off the bat. Robin,why would you call us the night before leaving to get the baby and tell us we aren’t taking her home? Robin was the head lady of the department, we think two days isn’t enough time to get to know her, dam lady, I will have a lifetime to get to know her when we are home. Settle down, Mr. Boyanton; we will see how this works out. The lawyer representing my daughter asks how many kids you have. I tell her 3 of my own and many that came to spend the night and never left. She is a big woman, maybe four hundred pounds, but we hit it off.

We arrived in Everett, Washington, at the foster mother’s house to see the baby for the first time. My wife, myself, and five state people walked into the house as the foster mother brought the baby downstairs. I took the baby and walked outside, leaving everyone staring at me, including my wife. The bushes outside had some giant white flowers. I walked over and put her close to the flowers to smell; she smelled, turned her head, and looked me in the eyes. I could feel her thoughts, thinking, I don’t know this man, but I bet I could love him. My reaction was no different than having my wife give birth at that very moment.

The following day, the foster mother from hell. This lady knew I wasn’t her friend, and the moment I met her, I decided not to leave Washington without my girl. This woman had my daughter going to doctor visits almost daily (we found out she was paid handsomely for these trips). We discovered she had the baby in a crib for 14 hours a day because she had many other kids she was watching and didn’t have the time. This woman who looked like a savior for children was void of all love. I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water when she told me she decided to keep my daughter. She didn’t say it straight out, but in a matter of words, we were at war.

My new daughter and I fell in love from the moment we met. When I entered the house, she would light up and smile, holding her arms for me. Not once did she show any affection to the foster mother at any time we were there or show any sadness when we left. Not once. My poor wife, who was to lead the ship, was mentally barelly holding on.

The day before we were to leave for home at 10 am the next morning, our final meeting with the state wasn’t good. Mr. Boyanton, can you come back and spend more time? No! I am financially drained; this has cost us tons of money. The baby will know us quickly enough, if not already. My daughter’s lawyer decided at this moment in time to speak up. My opinion, and I took it to the judge, was that Mr. and Mrs. Boyanton could take the baby home to Mississippi in the morning; I have a signed court order she gave me. I turned and hugged her as the women from the state looked on in horror.

My wife and I bought the baby girl all new clothes for her trip to her home. We arrived at the foster mother’s house at two p.m. to pick up the baby; she wouldn’t open the door or acknowledge we were on her porch. My wife and I didn’t know, but the foster mother and the state were trying to remove the signed court order and require us to return at some other time. Finally, the husband came home around 7 pm with me on the phone with the Everett police. I tell him the police are coming if she doesn’t give us the baby. He says nothing and walks into the house; patience has never been my cup of tea. After 30 minutes, we see them stacking all her clothes and belongings in front of the door. Her husband opens the door with the baby in his hands and gives her to me, and I tell my wife to take off all the baby’s clothes, including the diaper. I throw them in the house and kick all the belongings they have stacked at the door across the room. The foster mother screams that the baby will die without all the medicine. I yell back that now is my problem, and we drive away.

The state knew we were to leave at 10 am the following day, but they hadn’t realized I had to get an earlier flight to make a meeting, so we left at 6 am. When we arrived at the New Orleans airport, we had 16 calls from the state of Washington from the welfare office and the Washington state police. But to our pleasant surprise, my new daughter had all our Mississippi family in New Orleans with signs and hugs welcoming our most recent daughter home; it was hard to hold back the feelings even today. I called the welfare number and talked to Robin. She told me that she had filed a complaint against me. I replied that I couldn’t care less; she told me they were at the airport to stop us from bringing our new daughter home. Mr. Boyanton, you didn’t show good father skills, leaving medicine that might cause the baby to die. I informed her my wife worked in the medical field and discovered that none of her medication was life-threatening. “Our baby never needed the medicine except for some acid reflex.” I furthermore told her that the foster mother was evil. Come to Mississippi if you want to fight; I am home with my daughter.

A couple of little stories:

My daughter is Harmony Elizabeth; my grandson Bryan named her after her bad start in life; she needed some Harmony. My other grandson heard me say that I liked the girl Elizabeth, so that is how she got her name: Harmony named Bryan’s first child Cirrus.

Harmony was five years old. She asked me, Daddy, why am I dark-complected brown hair and eyes when my brothers and sister have blonde hair and blue eyes? That is simple! When I went to Walmart to order you, I told them I didn’t want a blue-eyed, blonde-haired kid anymore; I wanted something different.

At Harmony’s 16 birthday party, She was a princess, dressed in a dress that only a ferry-god mother could have designed; it was flawless and fit her like it was the only dress in the world. The love in her eyes was priceless. The court of girls themselves were beautiful and augmented Harmony even more. I was called up to the front and given a glass slipper (or what was to represent one) to kneel and place on her foot; it was a birthday to remember. It was held at the Diamondhead Country Club with all the bells and whistles. Over 100 people attended. (Even though I asked, my wife never told me how much we spent.) My guess is when I asked if it was more or less than 10,000 dollars, all my wife would say was yes!

After my daughter’s birthday party, I was messaging a friend about how she got her name and how we ended up with her. I told him she didn’t know yet she was adopted and that I would speak to her someday. He had to go, so I went on my feed on Facebook and wrote a story about something I had read. My friend who had to leave came on my feed and told me he did not have to go anywhere, so I finished the story about Harmony. My wife came into the room screaming everyone was calling her. Was Harmony adopted? Richard had it all over the internet. I was mad at myself for days, and my wife had to handle it. It was good it happened; I doubt I would have ever told her otherwise. She never missed a beat. Her mother and she have become best friends and always leave the daddy out.

She is a freshman at William Carey in Hattiesburg, MS. Not all love stories are this good, and not all parents get a child as terrific as her. Love can add to eternity and never run out. The hand that helped me in war is the same hand that led me to accept my God-given gift, my youngest daughter, Harmony. (20 years old September)

“THE GREATEST GIFT A FATHER CAN GIVE HIS CHILDREN IS TO LOVE THE MOTHER”