{"id":120175,"date":"2025-04-01T14:52:30","date_gmt":"2025-04-01T07:52:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/?p=120175"},"modified":"2025-04-01T14:52:30","modified_gmt":"2025-04-01T07:52:30","slug":"i-didnt-plan-to-be-a-dad-that-day-but-she-chose-me","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/i-didnt-plan-to-be-a-dad-that-day-but-she-chose-me\/","title":{"rendered":"I Didn’t Plan To Be A Dad That Day – But She Chose Me"},"content":{"rendered":"
I Didn’t Plan To Be A Dad That Day – But She Chose Me\n
It started like any other shift. I was doing a routine check around a park in Modesto when I saw her\u2014barefoot, wrapped in a threadbare hoodie, curled up on a bench. She couldn\u2019t have been more than 19. When I asked if she was okay, she looked up with glassy eyes and whispered, \u201cI\u2019m just trying to keep her warm.\u201d That\u2019s when I saw the bundle on her chest\u2014a tiny baby, barely a week old.\n
I radioed in for support, but something about her made me stay. She wasn\u2019t high or aggressive, just scared and exhausted. Said her name was Kiara. She\u2019d aged out of foster care a few months back, gave birth in a motel, then ended up on the streets. The baby\u2019s name was Nia. No birth certificate, no hospital records. Just the two of them, hanging on.\n
We got them to a shelter, and I figured that was the end of it.\n
But it wasn\u2019t.\n
I kept thinking about that baby\u2014how she gripped my pinky with her whole hand when I first held her. I visited the shelter a week later, then again. Eventually, Kiara started trusting me. She\u2019d ask me stuff like what diapers I thought were best, or how to tell if a baby had a fever.\n
Then one afternoon, she pulled me aside. She\u2019d made up her mind.\n
\u201cI\u2019m not ready to be a mom. But you\u2026 you care. She smiles when she sees you.\u201d\n
I stood there, speechless. I mean, who wakes up thinking they\u2019ll be asked to adopt a baby before dinner?\n
But something inside me just\u2026 clicked.\n
I told her I\u2019d look into it. That night, I sat in my car outside the precinct and cried. I\u2019d never pictured myself as a father. I didn\u2019t even have a crib or a clue.\n
But I knew I couldn\u2019t say no.\n
What I didn\u2019t expect\u2014what no one warned me about\u2014was what came next.\n
\n
Turns out, nothing about adopting a child is simple\u2014especially one without papers, a birth certificate, or even a last name on record.\n
Child Protective Services got involved, naturally. The shelter flagged it. They needed to determine if Kiara was of sound mind, if the child was safe, if I\u2014an on-duty officer\u2014was overstepping.\n
I was investigated. Background checks, home visits, psychological evaluations\u2014the whole nine yards. I get it. They were just doing their job. But still, it felt like they were ripping her from me before I\u2019d even had the chance to hold onto her.\n
During that time, I wasn\u2019t allowed to see Nia. Two months. Longest stretch of my life.\n
I kept tabs through Kiara. She was trying. Really trying. Got into a transitional program for young mothers. Took parenting classes. Cleaned up, even got a part-time job at a thrift store. And part of me started to wonder\u2014maybe she was ready after all.\n
But one morning, she called me crying. Said she was done pretending.\n
\u201cI can\u2019t be what she needs,\u201d she whispered. \u201cBut you can. You already are.\u201d\n
She\u2019d made the hardest choice a mother could make. Not because she didn\u2019t love her daughter, but because she did.\n
After that, the process picked back up again. Kiara signed over parental rights. I was cleared by the department. I had to learn how to change diapers, install a car seat, and soothe a colicky baby at 2 a.m.\u2014all while still working shifts. My buddies at the station pitched in. One guy brought over a crib his twins had outgrown. My sergeant\u2019s wife dropped off a whole bag of bottles, wipes, formula.\n
But the moment I officially became her father, when the judge signed the papers and said, \u201cCongratulations, Mr. Duvall\u201d\u2014I broke down like a baby myself.\n
I named her Nia Grace Duvall. Same first name Kiara gave her. I wanted to honor that. Because no matter what, Kiara was part of her story.\n
We still see Kiara sometimes. She visits on Nia\u2019s birthday. Brings her a little gift, tells her she loves her, and hugs her tight. We don\u2019t call her \u201cmom\u201d\u2014Kiara asked that we wait until Nia\u2019s older and can decide that for herself.\n
Nia\u2019s four now. She\u2019s got this wild laugh and curls that bounce when she runs. Loves pancakes and dancing barefoot in the living room. Every time she wraps her arms around my neck and says, \u201cI love you, Daddy,\u201d I remember that cold morning in the park. I remember how close she came to being lost in the system.\n
And I remember how her mother, in the middle of her own storm, chose to give her a chance.\n
Being a dad wasn\u2019t in my plans. But it became the best thing that ever happened to me.\n
If you\u2019re ever in a position to help someone\u2014even when it feels messy, complicated, or overwhelming\u2014lean in. Sometimes the biggest blessings don\u2019t come in perfect packages. Sometimes they show up on a park bench, wrapped in a hoodie, looking up at you with tired eyes and asking for nothing\u2026 except a little help.\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I Didn’t Plan To Be A Dad That Day – But She Chose Me It started like any other shift. I was doing a routine check around a park in Modesto when I saw her\u2014barefoot, wrapped in a threadbare hoodie, curled up on a bench. She couldn\u2019t have been more than 19. When I asked\n","protected":false},"author":10,"featured_media":120181,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"none","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[855],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-120175","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-story"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/623.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/120175","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/10"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=120175"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/120175\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":120182,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/120175\/revisions\/120182"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/120181"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=120175"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=120175"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lorevista.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=120175"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}