Ten days into two new lives
Ten days ago I sat alone outside of a hospital in Athens.
It was at the end of a five-day “labor journey” that I think I could more accurately call a 109-hour low-level anxiety attack. But that’s another story.
This is about the reflections I’ve had while taking in the short moments when my son is asleep with his mom or finishing up feeding and I’ve gone on a walk with the dog.
So much has packed itself into such a short amount of time. This tiny tuna tin of life lessons has hit me hard over the last week or so. To get back into writing after what has been two weeks of pure excitement, fear, despair, joy, gratitude, loneliness, love, stress, and overall bliss, I wanted to share the five things that keep popping up for me.
Being a dad is the greatest opportunity to fix your own life to embody the person you want your child to become.
As a dad or any parent, it goes without argument that one of your primary jobs is to make sure that your kid can grow up and become a good, happy person with the skills to take on life at its greatest and most challenging moments.
When you become a parent, you’re landed with the responsibility of teaching your child the difference between good and bad, how to show up in the world in a way that makes you feel good, what to do when it seems like everything is stacked against you, and how to have fun.
But when we look at the lessons that we want to teach our children, they often come from our own mistakes and shortcomings. The danger lies in teaching them to become the person we tried to be but couldn’t.
Instead, this is the chance to take the lessons that you want to pass on and make them a reality for yourself. The choice is either to fix your own shit or live on with the shadow of hypocrisy following you around like the puppy you never asked for.
For me, I’m excited to see where I can do better to practice what I preach.
Your kid is learning new things each and every day from the very beginning, and that’s a skill worth adapting for yourself.
It is amazing to watch a tiny little newborn baby slowly learn and adapt every day. There’s so much happening inside of that little brain bucket that we can’t see or comprehend, and that’s incredible.
From the very moment that the baby comes out into the world, they learn to breathe, cry, ask for food, ask for money, drive a car, sneak out the window, steal booze from the cabinet, and so much more.
Alright, maybe things aren’t moving that fast.
But they seem to be.
I’ve watched my son learn so much over the last decade of days (is there a word for that? daycade?).
It’s made me think, I should be learning more. When did I stop learning so much in every day?
Now, the obvious is that I’m learning how to become a better and better dad every day. But I know that feeling will fade, and I don’t want the learning to go with it.
I’m the kind of person whose partner gets annoyed at the idea of self-improvement because it’s something I pursue and talk about too much.
But for me, this isn’t just about growth. It’s about taking advantage of all that this world has to offer. If I’m not learning something every day, I’m missing out on some of the joys and wonders of the world.
There’s a lot of wonder inside of learning, and the power of wonder is wonderful in and of itself. Loads of recent research is starting to point to wonder and awe as powerful ways to heal and actually extend life expectancy.
So from here on out, I aim to be like my son. I want to find ways to learn new things starting from when I wake up.
Now, I’m huge on having these minor self-growth ideas, but the follow-through and the how are where I can often get stuck. So, if you have ideas on how to do this, please send them my way.
The more emphasis you take away from yourself to try and care for your kid, the less capable you become to show up how you need to.
Meandering around on the internet as a coach for dads, I see way too many posts and comments about the idea that dads are essentially the sacrifice put forward to have a happy and healthy kid.
Things like, “It’s our job to show up no matter what, not worry about ourselves,” are everywhere.
Oof.
I’m sure so much of that falls into the toxic masculinity bucket and that men of the past have a lot to speak for when it comes to modern men giving a shit about their lives as well as anyone else’s who we’re responsible for.
Okay, yeah, I get it. We’re the men. The ones who take care of the mom, the child, the job, the chores, the lawn, the garage, the this that or the other random bullshit thing.
That’s an old story.
The world is in such an overload of responsibility that we have to take care of ourselves to do the best job providing in whatever capacity you deem yourself responsible.
Dads out there are too often trying to pour from an empty cup or are dangerously close to finding the bottom of it.
Dads are also often too stubborn to ask for thirty minutes to get in the workout that helps them feel level-headed, the hour to read the book that helps them escape for a minute or the night out with friends that make them feel like they’re more than just a dad.
There is a chance for gratitude in every single thing. Every. Single. Thing.
Long labor story short, it was hard. It was really, really hard.
At times it was just boring. At times I was terrified.
But in the drawn-out days before the emergency c-section, there were moments of support, moments of laughter, and moments of love and connection.
When I pushed myself to stop and breathe, I could see that there was still hope because I had so much around me.
We had the world’s absolute fucking best midwife. And for that, I’m eternally grateful.
We had access to medical care, and without it I may have ended up sitting here alone, without my son or my partner.
My partner is an absolute badass resilient mother trucker who consistently and constantly surprised me with her strength throughout the 109-hour journey toward bringing our son into the world.
For all of these things, I’m grateful.
Today, I’m grateful to stare into the cross-eyed, contorted little face that I get the honor of raising and introducing the world to.
Gratitude. Another secret gift that can both skyrocket your happiness levels and improve your overall quality of life.
The storm passes faster if you stay calm enough to steer the ship.
The way my son reacts acts a diaper change combined with my years of working in therapeutics has me utterly convinced that I’m microdosing him with trauma every time I wipe his cute little butt.
He hates it. He hates it as much as I imagine I would probably hate it if some giant came and undressed me just to wipe me down.
And mark my words. When I’m 100 years old and he’s changing my diapers, I’m going to give him hell.
The first few times I changed him, I felt frantic. I needed to move quicker to get it over with while simultaneously singing some Grammy-winning made-up song on the spot.
That stressed me out.
He’s learning so much right now. The world is a shocking place filled with sensory overloads every time you look in a single direction for any amount of time.
The be taken from a cozy little warm belly bubble and plopped into this foreign place? No thanks, you can put me back in the mom sauna now, please.
Chaos is going to happen with a kid. Scream crying is going to happen. Not knowing what it will take to change that will happen. So much is going to happen.
Keeping calm, even when things seem like they’re falling apart is how we can do two things.
Get through it faster. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast. Calm down. Move slowly. Get things done quicker.
Teach our kids to be level-headed in the face of stress. If we show them that we’re capable as their parents to keep calm, they’ll learn that fire isn’t put out by fire.
So be cool like water.
Zen out like the Dalai Lama.
And just breathe because they will stop crying eventually and you will get through this moment.
Moving forward
It’s impossible to capture the magic that has come into my life. The feeling of looking into that boy’s eyes, watching the love of my life grow into the greatest mother of all time, and feeling pride and confidence in the little ways I’m showing up as a dad are all impossibly hard to put into words.
But these lessons come from that magic.
I can’t wait to see what the next ten days will hold.
