I Became A Father

Forgive me if I’m oversharing— I realized recently how touchy people get about kids. Not just their own but… and maybe even more so, other people’s.

I personally think that’s because people don’t come from childhoods that are too good— me neither. But this isn’t about that really, or maybe it is.

I just have had a particularly rough year. Can I just talk to you Dad to — well, whoever you’d happen to be.

They tell you kids grow up so fast, and I get the sentiment behind it but— can I be honest? It feels as if they almost grow up too slow. Y’know? Of course not. Or maybe you do.

It just feels like her entire life is happening in slow motion in front of me. Every milestone, stumble, first— and I’m praying I’m quick enough to keep up.

Sometimes I find myself holding my breath as if clutching valuables on a midnight stroll through Central Park.

I stop and question if the man standing here today would be as brazen as the younger man who proposed to your mother.

And soon enough I’d discover what it meant to truly hold onto something valuable.

When I held mommy excited because she felt your fire growing —I was told, be still. I knew the moment would come when the childish roles I played would need to take a backseat to make space for something more honest and real. But as I said, it always feels too slow. But maybe that’s the point. The universe moves us with such careful intention that it’s really hard to know if I’ve got the pacing wrong or it does.

Either way, in that first trimester your mother was already making preparations for your arrival. Whether I agreed with them or not, seen them or not— understood them or not. I can be honest now since that was well over a couple years ago. That first time I had heard your heart beat, your mother had already felt it syncing up with her own.

Can I tell you a secret? Well, it’s kind of a secret. When mommy would drift off to sleep I would rest my head on her tummy praying I could pick up any sign from you that you were in there— or that you knew I was here.

I’ll always be here.

Then came the second trimester, where your mother started to feel like her “old self” again. You won’t meet her but something tells me you will certainly know her because I watched her say good bye. But almost as if, she was storing all of the most important pieces of knowledge somewhere really safe. But dad felt good. I guess this was around the first time I really felt like I could be called that. You’ll learn this about me as you get older but, your mother’s comfort has always been a passion of mine.

Relax. Sip of wine. Good music. Plenty of time to herself— with a good mystery of course. Of course I would know what to do but then that is so brief. Suddenly trimester 3 comes in and that too is slow moving. It just feels so heavy that it seems kind of sudden. Like I remember carrying this weight in my shoulders but… when did it get to become so much?!

I try catching back up… and I can’t stress this enough, my presence is something I’ll never regret. Being there paying attention painfully aware of what mommy was going through and yet again, feeling out of position to really offer any assistance.

It only made sense that when the fourth trimester came I stepped up to do anything I could to be the man I had wished— for a long time that I had this conversation worked out sooner.

I don’t know if you remember me telling you when you were still growing how daddy didn’t have one of those so— he was unsure about how you’re going to be affected. And I refused to project and let my fears of being the wrong thing cause me to neglect you.

Mommy spent a full year making sure you were the safe, and when I looked into your eyes for the first time I saw the key.

But I’ll be honest again. That first year or so of your life I was terrified to move a muscle. Acting purely on preplanned instinct and less out of a developing and continuously evolving mind. I am extremely proud of who I wouldn’t allow myself to become. And that allowed me to eventually become, well, Dad. But I really struggled to understand the difference between dad and father and honestly I wasn’t interested in trying to find the nuances in this particular concept.

One is more so an action than actually showing up in action — not saying that it means inaction on anyone’s part per se. I just happen to be taking this all in thinking about what this year truly brought me— brought us.

Your mom and I hit 3 years married. Which means we have survived over a decade together. I was bracing for that on what kind of husband will I continue to grow into being— and is it a good one at least?

You sweet child finally reached the dreaded mile stone known simply as “The Terrible Twos”. And truthfully I was confused hearing more so the explanations of comfort behind that ominous warning.

Usually it comes behind a “well I don’t think kids are truly terrible at that age”. And honestly you’re not at all. You’re curious, courageous, dependable, honest, hard working and head strong. But certainly not, terrible.

I get to see that. I’ve gotten to know, influence and even be influenced by all that you are and represent.

If I learned anything this year I learned how to actually become a father/dad. It’s about how you intentionally show up, and what you walk away with each day. And each day this year, thanks to you I’ve walked away with much in gratitude and appreciation for my own resilience. You refuse to quit, and so I am right behind you, always little bug.