32 years ago today, a little girl was born in Erie, PA. She came out bright purple, and I thought something was wrong with her, but the nurses didn't seem worried, and minutes later, she was scrubbed pink, bright and shiny like a new penny, screaming at the world. She settled down once I took her in my arms however.

Her mother was still out of it from the epidural she swore she wouldn't take, but it was a difficult labor. As I stood there with Danielle in my arms, my life changed forever... little did I know how it would change.

You see, Danielle, as it turned out, was not my daughter. Though I filed a paternity suit against myself to get it into court, I knew all along that there was a chance she was not mine. As it turned out, she wasn't, but not before I gave my heart to her completely.

Imagine having your child torn from you at 2 years of age, and you could never see her again. It broke me. It broke me so badly that I considered ending my life. I couldn't even look at kids for a long, long time. I pushed them away, heading in the other direction when I saw them coming. I hardened my heart, and became a bit of a playboy - dating 5 women at the same time. It was the '80s, and they all knew about each other. I always used condoms, but just as had happened with Betsy, one day the condom broke with a 19 year-old named Laura.

Things seemed fine, and then I fell in love with Melissa, and broke it off with all the other women in my life, including Laura, who was very sweet, but we didn't have the necessary mental connection for true love. I cared for her, but didn't love her.. In time, Melissa showed her true nature, and crushed my heart, just as I had crushed others. I made plans to leave, to see the world, to go West.

Then, just weeks before I left, I saw Laura again, in a bar where my best friend was tending bar. I bought her a drink, and we talked as old friends... then she showed me a photo of her son, Brian. He was about two, pink-faced and happy, but I didn't see myself in him until she told me that he was my son.

I was dismayed. Why hadn't she told me? I demanded. I would have done the right thing, I said. "What is the right thing?" she asked. I had no answer, only that I was leaving in two weeks, and had committed myself to this task. I could barely look at the boy's picture—I was still leery of children then—they still represented horrible heartbreak. I literally couldn't be around them. I refused the picture she offered, and didn't sleep at all that night.

I ended up here, alone, 30 years later, with no wife, no children, only a profound sense of having made a bad decision. At my age, I don't want to have children, yet finally, my heart has healed. I found joy last year in teaching a neighbor's six-year-old son to ride a bike... because his father wants nothing to do with him. Ironic, no?

The book I just finished, 'Maria,' (not the full title), is about a similar man, in similar circumstances, who meets his daughter years later. I would likely not be the writer I am if I hadn't lost those two children—like everyone else, I would have been caught up in providing the best for them, watching them grow, spending time with them, and teaching them to be good people.

As it is, they both learned this without me. I am not a monster, nor am I a victim of fate. I accepted my lot a long time ago. I take pleasure in seeing other families, with their children, but at the same time, it hurts sometimes. Wherever you are, Danielle, Happy Birthday... and you, Brian, whom I have no excuse for other than my then broken heart, I'm sorry. Truly, truly sorry.