Marie and I had just found out she was pregnant. She was hopeful that her firstborn would be a son, albeit she repeated the mantra, “As long as it’s healthy, I don’t care.” She got her wish the day I got home from boot camp. Then I went away and spent two years on the USS La Salle, permanently deployed to the Persian Gulf.

When I got home, she somehow found herself pregnant again and this time I was hopeful for a little girl to round out our family, and the sonogram promised just that. However, in the delivery room, another boy appeared. Another two years, I’m out of the Navy now, and somehow Marie gets pregnant again (I’ve since become an EMT and now know what causes this).

At this point I think I need to tell you that Marie and I had an agreement: she got to pick the boy’s name; I got to pick the girl’s. The other could object if he/she really hated the name, but otherwise it stuck. As Marie declared this would be our last, I wanted a unique name – one that wouldn’t be on those preprinted bicycle license plates. I checked a book of names out of the library and started going through it. When I hit Carina, I knew that was it.

Carina Marie just rolls of your tongue like you are singing. Carina is the name of the second brightest star in the sky. I would have named her for the brightest star, but somehow Sirius didn’t seem right for a girl. Carina (aka Carinae) is the keel in the constellation Argo, named for Jason and the Argonauts.

Marie’s due date was March 28; my birthday is March 30. I was hoping that she could hang on the extra two days and share a birthday with me. On March 22, since he didn’t know about my birthday wish, the doctor said it was time to induce labor. This time the sonogram held true, and Carina Marie entered the world.

To round out the family and even the boy/girl ratio, in 2005 we took in a 2-year-old girl. She was the daughter of my son’s friend. She still lives with us.

In 10th grade, Cari asked if she could be home-schooled. I didn’t like the idea, so I told her to write a paper on why and how. I got a three-page dissertation how much she was teased. It still makes me tear up a little thinking about it. I have the body of a god (Buddha), and Cari was cursed with her father’s physique. She was also a good and conscientious student, bringing almost every textbook home every evening. Once she slipped on the ice running to the bus one winter morning and landed on her back. Due to the weight of the books, she had a hard time getting back to her feet. She was teased mercilessly and given the nickname “Turtle.”

She spent the rest of her high school years attending PA Cyber School – a hybrid of public and home school schooling.

I wanted to give you this short history (I left out the really juicy bits) to let you know one very important thing: I may seem aloof at times, but Carina is very much a DADDY’s GIRL. My eldest son lives next door; my younger almost a whole mile away. I felt confident that Cari would continue to live with me until such time as she got married and then maybe live within a two- or even three-mile radius. Imagine how it hits Daddy when he finds his daughter headed 2,300 miles away.

I take my role as family protector seriously. How was I to do that with her so far away? How was I going to give her timely advice? Who was going to babysit our now 14-year-old foster daughter when Mom and I wanted to sneak away for a date night? Who would be there to watch “Once Upon a Time” with me (a show Marie cannot abide)?

Cari tells me that everyone tells her how brave she is to go out on her own, but in reality she is very scared. I explain to her that bravery isn’t not being scared – bravery is being scared and doing it anyhow. Unfortunately, she set the example, so I had to be brave as well.

Marie talks to Cari almost nightly. I pretend not to listen because I’m the stoic Daddy. Cari talks about her problems with migraines, and I want to rush to her and hold her. She tells of a problem with her car, and I want to get on a plane and either fix it or get it fixed for her. She talks of a conniving apartment manager, and I want to stare that manager down and tell her to leave my little girl alone. But alas, I cannot. Cari has done very well without me there – and that’s bittersweet for a doting father.

A year has flown by. She came home for the summer, and when she returned to Montana, it was cutting the heartstrings all over again. It was almost worse than the first time in some ways because I knew how hard it was going to be to see her go.

She has surrounded herself with friends in Montana. Not just people who say they are friends, but true ones who don’t run when she needs a friend. Cari had people who drove her to and from physical therapy when they thought that might help the migraines. A co-conspirator helped us plan a birthday surprise party for her. A church provided people and pickup trucks to help her move to a new apartment, as well as friends who invite her to dinner so she won’t be so alone.

Her original plan was to teach in Montana for a few years and then apply back this way as an experienced teacher, but she now calls Montana “home” and is thinking about purchasing a house.

As much as it scares me, I may have to live with this adjustment for the long term. But if my baby girl can manage this, I guess I’ll have to “man-up” and accept it myself. So Mom and I, too, are living by faith, that this is the right place for Cari to be.