Reading time: 3 mins
I’m almost approaching my first year at Allied Vehicles and I’m busier than ever but, looking back I can see how far things have come since I joined. It’s a very small team, in a very fast paced environment and a lot of what I’m trying to do is help mature our own processes. With a couple of new people joining our team it’s brought a lot of this into focus, both how far it’s come, and how far we have to go. And that’s before we get into all the Business Analyst work I’ve got going on. I was sad when my time with Virgin Money came to an end but in hindsight this new job has been a boon!
It does mean that between my work, and having to be in the office 3 days a week, and spending time with my son, that I’ve not always been the best at finding time for me. I’ve barely been out on my bike, nor managed more than a few runs as, barely halfway through Couch-to-5KM I developed a bit of a niggle in my knee which meant I had to rest for a few weeks, got a physio session to sort it but still means I had to out of doing Etape Caledonia this year. I feel doubly bad for that as I’d talked two of my friends into it and, as one of them also dropped out, my mate is now doing it on his own, his first organised cycle too!
Elsewhere, Jack continues to amaze and delight. He is enjoying a daredevil stage at the moment which is wonderful and terrifying all at the same time, and he flits between being barely a toddler to a young child in an instant, it’s quite startling. We are very lucky that we have a good routine that he understands so for the most part (I mean, he’s a toddler) meals, bath time and bed time mostly go without a hitch. And I’ve just jinxed it…
In a couple of weeks we are heading up north, and will be sleeping with him in a tent. It will be his first time (technically his second but he was still a baby the first time on Mull) so it’ll be interesting to see how he adjusts to it, and how the adjustment goes when we get back. That said, with all the fresh air, and the fact that Granny and Grandpa will be there too, we are pretty confident then sleep won’t be a problem for him as he’ll be exhausted.
Heading into the summer months and on into October, I’m aware that my son is heading towards his 3rd birthday. He’s increasingly independent and we trust him and can leave him ‘unattended’ (in the next room!) to happily play with his toys, or stoating about the back garden looking for ‘wee spidurrs’ and ‘weuyrms’ and hopefully a ‘wee ant!’.
And, inspired by my unstoppable force of nature of a wife (who’s currently smashing her C25K, and slotting in the odd yoga session when she can), I’ve even managed to sort out a few cycles for myself and will be signing up for the local gym soon too. I’m 50, not getting any younger etc etc and definitely not getting any more flexible, or stronger, or lighter with my present, very sedentary, lifestyle. I want to be around for many years to come to enjoy watching the person my son will grow up to be so I need to start taking better care of myself. And yes, I’m posting this wholly for accountability purposes!
Fit for 50 was a goal but I’ll take Fit for 55 if that’s what it takes!
Category: Dad Life
A large part of my (later) life is being a Dad
Our Gentle Parenting
Reading time: 4 mins
It was probably a few months before he was born that I really started to read up on the various aspects of what being a parent would mean. We bought books, read them in-depth, made notes and held study sessions so ensure we absorbed every morsel of information we could.
Except we didn’t do that. We did attend a couple of courses – hypnobirthing (which wasn’t what it sounds like), and an NCT ante-natal course – all online of course as we were still in the end days of COVID. I did read a fair few articles as I tried to get a grasp on what being a Dad would be like though, with the aim of mentally preparing myself, particularly because I’m an older Dad and I wanted to get some shared experiences if at all possible.
One thing that we both, naturally, gravitated towards was the idea of gentle parenting.
As a child I was spanked once, I think. I don’t remember it, but it was talked about in semi-hushed tones with my parents for years as it was such an outlier. That said, I was brought up in the ‘children should be seen and not heard’ world so a lot of my behaviours were to be still and quiet, rather than act out and be wild. It likely explains why my ‘go to’ as an adult is still to be quiet and alone.
For our son we were both keen to make sure he was brought to up to understand his own emotions, to be able to process them and have some tools to deal with that himself. That is what we think of when we discuss ‘gentle parenting’. It doesn’t mean we aren’t strict, we hold boundaries where needed, and it doesn’t mean he gets to do whatever he wants, we have worked hard to get a good routine in place around eating and sleeping, and we are proud that he’s growing well, eating healthily, and sleeping consistently well. It has not been easy to get here but this was part of what we were aiming for.
For me, a feminist bringing up a boy, gentle parenting was especially important as I want my son to understand his privilege and help him learn how to conduct himself appropriately. I’ve written about this before and taking the approach that gentle parenting embodies was key in helping me understand HOW to raise my son to be a good man.
There are many definitions of gentle parenting but one of the early exponents of the phrase itself, said this:
“Gentle Parenting is a way of being, it is a mindset. It’s not about how you wean your baby, or what type of education you chose. It’s not new, it’s not trendy. Gentle parents come from all walks of life, all ages, all ethnicities and most don’t even realise that their style of parenting has been given a new name, it’s just the way they have always been.”
Sara Hockwell-Smith
Becca and I, when we were discussing the types of things we’d have to handle as parents, quickly realised that we were both of a similar mind and, without even having heard the term, were destined to be ‘gentle parents’. That’s likely as much to do with our upbringing and world view as anything, but it means we are able to be consistent with Jack as he grows, that we have empathy for everything he is going through (all the new things he is learning, so much going on every single day!), we respect his feelings and moods (some days he just doesn’t want to go out, so we don’t), we do our best to understand what is going on for a boy his age and factor that in to our thinking, and we hold boundaries through the routines we’ve worked hard to implement (he always brushes his teeth before he has his bath before he goes to bed each night).
It’s not always been easy, but we are determined to give him the best start to life that we can and we believe giving him the emotional capacity he will need as he grows, will give him confidence in himself, and he too will be able to show empathy, understanding, respect and hold boundaries with others when needed.
Throughout this amazing past 2 and a half years, I’ve learned so much about what it takes to be a good Dad, and more importantly I’ve learned so much about myself and all of that is down to gentle parenting. I know I have always been empathetic to others and saught to understand and respect other people but the depth of those emotions have grown since Jack came along and, I think, the more I can understand those feelings within myself, the better an example and father I can be.
And THAT’S why I believe in our gentle parenting approach and, so far, the proof is in the pudding and we have a thoughtful, kind, silly, curious little boy who likes hanging out with his Mummy and Daddy. We have tantrums that we deal with, we have behaviours (hitting) that we calmly assert aren’t acceptable and then ask why he’s hitting, and we talk about all of our feelings, sadness, happiness, love, and don’t shy away from any of our emotions as a family.
When I read about people saying gentle parenting is ‘soft’ and ‘taking it easy’ on the child, I’d suggest they think about how hard it is to remain calm, and consistent, every single day. How much effort it takes to figure out and understand what my toddler is going through, and how it translates to a boy who loves snuggling and cuddling, rather than a terror who is kicking and fighting when he gets tired.
Gentle parenting is hard, it is tough, but I firmly believe it’s the best way to raise a child, to give them a grounding that they can take with them as they grow and mature, into adulthood where the hope is that they’ll be able to handle themselves and their emotions in what is becoming an increasingly negative and hated filled world.
We give our son love, we make sure he knows he is safe and cared for, in the hope that he will expouse those simple virtues to everyone he comes into contact with as he makes his way in the world.
That’s our gentle parenting. What’s yours?
Dad friends
Reading time: 6 mins
I am very very lucky. I live with, I married, I have a son with, my best friend. We don’t fight (occasionally disagree) and we talk a lot about our thoughts and emotions, call each other out when it’s needed, we support each other, we hug, we laugh, we kiss, we cry. We are good together. We are good for each other.
I am very very lucky. I have three very close friends that I’ve known for over 30 years, the type of friends that remain constant in your life even though you don’t see them all that often throughout the year. We mostly communicate through a WhatsApp group for our own little Formula One predictions game. I love them dearly, they’ve been with me through every major event in my life, marriages, divorce, deaths, and the birth of my son.
None of them are Dads.
My son is fast approaching 2 and a half years in age and this last couple of weeks it feels like the “terrible twos” have finally descended on us. He is a curious, active, emotional little guy. We encourage all of this, gentle parents that hold firm lines where we must.
As Jack starts to try to understand his place in the world, and starts to control more of his own actions, he is (rightfully!) pushing boundaries to help himself figure out what is acceptable and what is not. Which is a nice way of saying that he has developed a very strong will for some very specific things that he does not want to do.
One is changing his nappy, but that one seems like a soft pushback that he eventually caves to. More recently though bedtime has become a battle, with the act of putting on his sleeping bag being the line he will not cross.
Since he was about 8 months old or so, when he stopped co-sleeping with his Mum and I was able to do bottle feeds at night, he’s had a great bedtime routine. Dinner, some fruit, some milk, brushing his teeth, then a bath, then into his room to wind down before bed. Mum does his bath, I do bedtime.
For months now it’s been the same, after his bath he comes into his room where I am waiting for him, we play a little (as quietly as possible with a toddler who likes ‘getting dizzy’ and doing ‘big jumps!’), we read through books, we cuddle. I talk about what he wants to do, does he want to put the big light off himself or will Daddy do it? When he goes into his bed, does he want Daddy to stay in the room with him (“lie down”) or leave (“Daddy go ‘way”). Then around about the same time every night – I tend to watch for the signs he’s ready – we put on his sleeping bag, he pulls the zip up, then it’s lights off and into his bed.
But not recently.
I’ll admit I’ve not handled it all that well at times. Losing my temper more than once (not AT him, but he can tell I’m getting annoyed/angry) and it kills me that I’m struggling with this, struggling to process my own adult (exhausted) emotions whilst he quietly lies on the floor and fights and kicks if I try and pick him up, until he finally gives an inch and concedes he will go to bed but not in a sleeping bag. Which means he’s likely to wake through the night as he’ll get a little cold and so one of us has to go through and comfort him and get him back to sleep.
I work in the office 3 days, which means my days start at 5:45am. Becca works a Tuesday evening and Saturday and Sunday mornings, so we try and split the night time responsibilities depending on that. If Jack allows of course, sometimes he doesn’t want one of us at all so we ‘tag in’. It’s what he needs, that’s always our mantra no matter how hard it gets.
And boy has it been hard. I’ve been feeling so useless at times. On the days I work in the office I don’t see him in the morning, and have only a couple of hours before it’s bedtime and it’s pretty much the ONLY thing I have to do and I can’t even do that? What a failure! Useless!!
Which I know isn’t true. I know we are doing a good job bringing him up, I know this. I am not useless, I am a Dad who turns up for his son every day and night, I am there, I am present and helping him grow.
But… I’m the Dad, I’m the provider, the one who puts a roof over our heads, the one who protects his family… and so on. These views are draconian, patriarchal and outdated and, when I step back and look at my life as it is today, not even remotely close to how we live our lives, yet these are the entrenched ideals I have in my mind, the values I was brought up with.
I am not trying to be my Dad; god bless him but he always pushed emotions away (he was, like I am, an emotional man but I think he was brought up to feel shame if he showed them). I don’t do that, I want Jack to understand that sometimes I get sad, sometimes I cry, sometimes I will be distant but I will always be there for him, and I want Jack to know that all of those emotions are valid in that hope that when he starts to understand them and can recognise them in himself (he’s already feeling them) he won’t feel ashamed and will have the tools to figure out how do deal with them.
I am also the ‘male’ figure in his life, so my actions and comments towards others is something I’m very aware of, even though I am confident in the example I am setting him in terms of respecting people, being nice, being good (and being a bit cheeky too).
All of these thoughts and emotions and hopes and dreams swirl through my head as I hold my son, gently talking to him, trying to coax him into his bed whilst he clings tighter and shakes his head. I pull him tighter and reassure him that everything is ok, that Daddy is here for him, and that we will figure this out together, that I love him, and feel so lucky to be his Daddy.
All of this is in my head and, no matter how much I talk to Becca I realise more and more that I need some Dad friends.
I have no idea how to do that, but I sometimes feel like I need people with similar upbringings (so around my age) and similar world views to mine (no right-wing homophobes please) that have children. Essentially, I need my best mates to have kids except one is 55 and single, one has his two ‘children’ already (dogs), and the I think the other hopes to have kids one day but hasn’t managed to get to that point yet.
That said, I got to know some other Dads through the ante-natal class we did before Jack was born, we had our own little WhatsApp group, sharing 2am ramblings and gripes but that fell away after the first few months. I did reach out recently and posted a message to the group (the first anyone had in over a year) just to reach out but it was more a ‘hi, how are you guys getting on’ kinda thing. I didn’t want to dive straight into a chat about Dad worries and how everyone else was coping with them… don’t be that guy, right?
But that is the point, I should be that guy, I can’t keep all of this to myself. Men are notoriously bad for talking about their feelings and emotions, something that I do well here (because I am constantly aware I am writing to one reader), but still struggle with in real life. I don’t make friends easily, less so with men, so I’m unlikely to start an outpouring of emotions to someone I barely know.
But I will talk to my friends about this, and I talk to Becca about all of everything, but unfortunately the one voice I’d love to hear from is no longer with us. I channel him every day (more than I even realise I’m sure) but oh how I’d love to hear how he dealt with his exhausted Dad demons. My parents went through some horrible, hard, stressful times and it speaks volumes that, for the most part, I was completely unaware and happy, whilst they struggled to pay bills and dealt with miscarriages. Maybe I should’ve known a little more? It’s hard to say, and hindsight blah blah blah..
I’ve heard of some of this from my Mum, but now that I am a father too, I wish mine were here.
I will talk about these things to my friends and family and, as he grows up, I will continue to talk to my son, continue to be open with him, emotional in front of him, and make sure he understands his place in my world and how important he is to me. I hope that he will become my friend too.
It’s not easy being a Dad.
But I wouldn’t change it for the world.
How to raise a man
Reading time: 4 mins
Man up, sit down
Chin up, pipe down
Socks up, don’t cry
Drink up, don’t whine
“Grow some balls,” he said
“Grow some balls”The mask
Samaritans by Idles
Of masculinity
Is a mask
A mask that’s wearing me
The mask, the mask, the mask
We want Jack to be kind, considerate, and thoughtful. We want him to be present, to live a happy life, a healthy life both physically and mentally.
These are not unique desires for a parent, I’m well aware of that, but it’s something we’ve actively discussed and as the main male presence in his life I’m already conscious of the things I say and do that could influence him.
Fundamentally I want my son to treat every person with respect, respect to their gender, their sexuality, their race, their abilities, and to understand and respect the language they use and also to know when it’s HIS feelings and issues that are the problem, and that those issues are for HIM to deal with (and that I’ll always be there to help him with those too).
That’s the goal but how do you do that?
I’m very wary of reciting advice we’ve read/heard elsewhere, or sounding like I think I know it all and this will guarantee Jack grows into a flawless adult (spoiler alert: he won’t) but there are a few simple things I am doing that, hopefully, will help lead him down a path I hope he chooses to take as he gets older:
- Being mindful of how I act, and what I say.
Kids copy so much of what their parents do. How many times do you, as an adult, do something and instantly realise it’s something you’ve inherited from your Mum or Dad. It can be a small mannerism – my Dad used to tap along to music whilst driving the car, tapping his wedding ring on the gearstick, I caught myself doing it the other day – or something more nefarious.
With the latter in mind I’ve tried to stopping making jokes about, for example, how ‘Mum’s place is in the kitchen’ as not only is it not actually funny, but I don’t want Jack to grow up thinking that attitude is ok. - Acknowledging my mistakes when I make them.
I think it’s important for Jack to know he’s allowed to make mistakes as long as he knows how to process that and learn from them. I’ll do my best to set an example for him. That means apologising to him if I lose my temper with him, or if I do something he didn’t want me to do.
The former I’ve already done a few times, when my tiredness and a cranky toddler collide I’ve raised my voice to him and as soon as I’ve calmed down I’ve sat down with him, said I’m sorry and explained why I acted that way and that it wasn’t right for me to shout at him. I’m not sure he understands the words, but hoping he understands the sentiment.
The latter is a tricky line to tread as whilst, for example, HE wants me to go stand far away in the playground whilst he climbs to the top of the (12 foot high, metal) stairs of the slide, he still occasionally misjudges things and falls over so, no I won’t stand where he wants as I might need to catch him! Again, in a calm voice I’ll explain why I’m not doing what he wants. - Talking openly, honestly, and often.
Hopefully this will help Jack as he grows, and with practice he’ll come to understand that he can talk to his Mum and Dad about anything, good or bad, and while we will be strict when required, he’ll always know that talking about his feelings is a good thing, and we will always love him, no matter what he brings to us. - Crying.
As my friends know, I am an emotional guy. I cry at lots of things, songs, movies, TV shows. I won’t be hiding this from Jack. And if I am upset about something, as I can get with thinking about my Dad and how he would’ve doted on Jack, I will cry and tell Jack why. I’ll smile through the tears so he knows it’s ok to feel sad sometimes, and that crying is nothing to be ashamed of. - Loving.
I tell Jack I love him every single day. I made a promise to him, and myself, that I would do this in some form or another from the day he was born and I’ve not missed a day yet. For now I get to say the words to him, but I know as he grows it might be by text message or whatever mode of communication we end up with in 2035, regardless, I will tell him I love him every day whilst I still can.
He’ll also hear me say that to his Mum, and see me cuddle her and show affection. I think that’s important too. Love is powerful. - Respecting.
And possibly the hardest one of all, at least it seems that way, is to teach Jack to respect other people. Flying in the face of mainstream media which, whilst it is changing, is still very misogynistic, I want Jack to understand and embrace consent.
I can’t recall which TV show I saw it on but so far the best handling of this I’ve seen was a father and son sitting in a fast food restaurant at a counter. They are eating and the father broaches the subject of consent, asking his son if he knows what it means, when the son isn’t sure, the father says it’s simple. When a sporting referee blows the whistle, everything stops. You might question the decision afterwards, you might be annoyed, you might think the referee was wrong… but you stop. That one stuck with me.
I’ve been thinking about how to capture of all this for a while. In my head the title of this post is actually, how NOT to raise a rapist which isn’t far from the truth. I know there will be difficult conversations ahead, one of which will be about rape and how it’s up to MEN to sort that problem out (and presuming he continues to identify as a man then he’ll need to be part of the solution).
I have, of course, no idea how all of this will turn out, I have hope because Becca and I think the same way about all of these things, have personal experiences to bear out our advice, and because we both believe that the more we talk about these things with Jack, and the earlier we start, the more likely it is that he will grow into a good man, that Jack will turn out to be just that.
Which strikes me as something I’ve mentioned before about another man, he was a good man too, so here’s hoping some of him is passed down through me to my own son.
The Disappearing Dad
Reading time: 9 mins
And here we are, half past three in the morning.
I’m the only one awake, in my lap my son is gently snoring, my wife is asleep in our bed, the dogs are asleep on the sofa downstairs. The dark is punctured by a night light, the stillness outside broken occasionally by a car, it feels like the world has retreated, stepped away from this place where I sit alone.
There is nothing wrong with being alone, or feeling alone. In fact I quite like time to myself alone and always have. My sister was born about 7 and half years after me so until she showed up I was an only child, content with my solitude. Then everything changed. Babies have a habit of doing that.
When my niece Lucy was born she was, to me, an amazing tiny bundle of wonder. The first few times I held her I remember instantly feeling very protective towards her, she seemed so small and vulnerable in my big arms. It was the same when her sister Daisy was born; holding these tiny little people made me realise the responsibility of being an adult in their world.
Of course they weren’t my kids so whilst I love them and dote on them when I can, I was always aware that the responsibility I felt towards them was relatively small. While they will always be important to me, their arrival didn’t impact my busy life; with so many places to visit, bands to watch, new foods to try, friends to catch up with, cycling routes to plan, and events to attend that visiting my nieces just slotted into my schedule as and when it could.
I’ve always been a planner, always had a schedule of sorts in my head (or in my calendar because my memory is shockingly bad). It’s safe to say I’m the type of person who likes to be busy, scratch that, I like to be focussed. That can be on any manner of things, a new hobby, watching a movie, or reading a book, but I’m not one to sit too long whiling away the hours doing nothing much so my free time was usually planned out to some extent, even if I did have to include planning days ‘off’ to make sure I found the time to do nothing (harder than it sounds!). The joys of perfectionism and all that.
Then I met Becca and my busy life was suddenly even richer; long wanders together, hills to climb, my love for the great outdoors was fed like never before and as we spent more and more time together my heart grew and grew. We talked often about our hopes and dreams for the future, honestly and openly, including having kids together. Life was good and with our future together agreed, we both knew it was soon going to get even better.
And so it did when along came our beautiful boy, our son Jack.
Having a child is, rightly, life changing. It’s the single biggest commitment I’ve ever had and I can still remember the whirlwind of thoughts and worries that raced through my brain in the weeks leading up to his birth. We’d (skim) read some of the books, taken both an ante-natal class and a hypno-birthing one, so the birth itself was pretty well covered and we had a fair idea of what to expect in the first few weeks once we brought him home but, after that, it all started to be a little vague.
The sense of responsibility for a newborn feels huge, almost overwhelming. How do you figure out if the baby is hungry, or tired, or sore, or… or… or…. the old joke of there being no manual for having a kid holds true and the fact that so much of parenthood turns out to be guess work is, frankly, a little scary. We were lucky that Jack took to breastfeeding straight away, and adjusted our home routines to make sure Mum was always available for a very hungry boy, and (touch wood) he’s been a very calm and settled boy from the off.
Of course there were challenges to get through but it was all manageable, even with the stresses and worries that came along for the ride. Most of these we half-expected from chatting to the various parents we knew – I cannot emphasis the benefits we got from the NCT Ante-natal classes, not just what we learned but having a group of new parents to lean on was a huge bonus – however if you fall into the ‘over protective’ category of parenting, which I do, you may be more prone to worrying about things that might happen and spend a little too much energy trying to plan against those things and, well, let’s just say that I found the first few months of being a parent a little stressful. It feels like I spent most of that time veering between utter joy and delight, and something akin to crippling fear and despair.
With those thoughts in mind, as I recently finished reading The World According to Garp, I found a lot of the thoughts and worries played out in the novel seemed to reflect my own. The outlandish freak accidents that COULD befall my son might as well have had me chasing down speeding cars in our neighbourhood a la Garp. For those who haven’t read the book it is partly “about a man who is so fearful of bad things happening to his loved ones that he creates an atmosphere of such tension that bad things are almost certain to occur.”.
I don’t think I’m that tense nor as overbearingly protective, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there is always that low level fear in my mind. I joke about wrapping Jack up in cotton wool to make sure he comes to no harm but the truth is if there was some way to guarantee he’d never get hurt I’d take it in a heartbeat., Oh yes, it’s quite a transition from spending your every day not thinking about things that could hurt or maim a child, to spending every second with your son as he charges around the living room keeping half an eye on the corner of the coffee table, or the hard edge of the marble hearth that looks ripe to inflict damage on my precious boy as he stumbles face first on to it.
The nurse handed Jack to me the minute he was born, all wrapped up in a towel that he was already chomping on and I immediately, if slowly, started to dissolve. Looking down at my son, I was at once deliriously happy that he and Becca were safe, full of wonder that he was in my arms, and terrified that I wouldn’t be a good Dad, or be able to protect him from EVERYTHING BAD THING IN THE WORLD EVER. A perfectly rational response, I’m sure you’ll agree.
Of course there is more to looking after a child, and we very quickly realised that finding a routine is everything. My usually week day goes something like this: Wake up, get Jack out of bed, have breakfast, take some time to sit and play before I have to go to work (upstairs). Depending on my day I might have an hour or so free time in the afternoon but mostly I won’t see him until I finish working, then it’s play, dinner, play, bath time, and in bed by 7:30pm. I’ve been the one putting him to bed each night and I cherish that time, sitting quietly with my boy in my arms as he drifts off to sleep.
It seems like a long time ago that going to bed around 11pm was the norm, most nights I’m lucky to make it to 10pm, but I love every minute, but between making sure the routine is kept as well as we can, and making sure Jack is clean, and fed, and stimulated, and safe, it very quickly (and rightly) becomes an all consuming job.
And so, without even realising, life as you used to know it has receded. Your world has shrunk.
You’ve started to disappear.
Disappearing isn’t something you do with a mighty gesture, as tempting as that might be sometimes. Instead it seems to be a slow process with little changes here and there, decisions made with a different mindset than you’ve had in the past, and all with an eye through this new view you have of the world. At some point, months later, you look around and realise you are somewhere entirely new, and you are not the same person you once were.
And it’s wonderful, simply because you have a tiny bundle of smiles and energy that lights up your heart each and every single day (even when he’s having a meltdown because you won’t let him eat his own shoe).
It’s not always easy though and perhaps it’s through the hardest times, the darkest hours of the night, that the disappearing takes it’s true form. It’s just you and your poorly child who wants nothing more than to be in your arms all night, and so you settle in to the chair holding his tiny squirming body and hope that you manage to at least nap. Or the nights when he just won’t sleep and both parents are frazzled and nothing seems to help.
Those times make disappearing from your life to solely focus on the thing that needs you the most the easiest and most obvious decision in the world. It’s what you should do, it’s what is needed, it’s what is right. The rest of the world, the rest of your life can wait a while.
But it does mean that, at times, I’ve caught myself feeling irritated that things aren’t as easy as they used to be and, for someone who can be grumpy at best when he’s sleep deprived, I’ll admit there were times I questioned a lot of things. Being the only person lying awake in the dark, unable to sleep, is an oddly lonely feeling and makes you realise just how far you have retreated from your life, how transparent you have become in your disappearance.
I do wonder how much my feelings of isolation were impacted by the fact I work from home these days, my interactions with others limited to a few moments before and after meetings, and there are some days I don’t even make it outside. Add that to the gigs missed, catchups postponed, my bicycle gathering dust in the shed… it’s no wonder there have been some dark days.
Ohh but you can’t say any of this, no no, you are a new parent and everything must be ‘wonderful’ with this beautiful ‘gift’ you have been given! You can’t talk about it being hard, or depressing, especially as you are just the Dad, it’s Mum who’s done all the hard work!!
And with those thoughts permeating social media, and society at large, it feels harder still to put a voice to the many worries there are to contend with, each day bringing something new to consider to make sure we are doing the very best we can for our son, and I admit I struggled in the early days whenever something didn’t go right, or I made a mistake, the magnifying glass of parenthood meaning I regularly had thoughts of failing our son, failing at fatherhood.
Some days were a struggle, but I am proud that I always showed up and did my best and I know, deep down, that I’m a good Dad and, no matter what, I will be there for Jack and Becca whenever and however they need me. They are my focus, they come first. I’m lucky that throughout all of this I’ve had such a strong, supportive partner, who had helped guide me when I faltered, and is relentless in her desire to make all our lives better and happier. Seriously, the woman is a powerhouse of amazing positivity who has been such a rock for our little family, and I have no doubt Jack is the bright eyed, curious, vibrant and cheeky little boy because of her efforts to nourish his body, heart, brain and soul.
In the darker moments I used to catch myself looking at my life through the lens of the past and wonder when I’ll get back to that busy, easy life I enjoyed. Yet more and more I’ve come to look at the slow dissolution of what I value spending my time doing with a gentle smile. As the changes to my life made themselves apparent I realised that I didn’t miss the things I used to do, at least not as much as I thought I would. Instead they’ve been replaced with new sources of joy, getting a kiss from my son, the way he laughs when I say ‘silly Dad’ and most recently when he points at me and says ‘Dada’.
In an instant my heart is full of joy and whilst I’m not really sure what the rest of the world is up to, I’m confident it is still out there waiting for me, as and when I decide to return to it.
I still can’t really figure out if it was me who disappeared or if the rest of the world that quietly retreated; either way it feels like it was a necessity, a way of creating space to figure out how to live as a father, to reevaluate how to best care for my wife and son. It’s taken almost 18 months but I think we are in a good place, Jack is flourishing, growing, learning, and I feel happy that I am doing the best I can for him.
I am content. I am a good Dad.
And with that I am starting to lift my head and look around again, trying to figure out how to reappear into life. I know it won’t be the same life I had, how could it, but it I know however it turns out I’ll have new perspectives and a different focus. Yes, I think it’s time to look forward, time to add myself to the list of people I care about, and figure out what my new life could look like, as a father, as a husband, a new(ish) me.
I can’t wait.
Welcoming Jack
Reading time: 2 mins
Hello Jack, my son,
You arrived early, but safely, and the last few weeks we’ve been getting to know you, figuring out your needs and wants, and mostly just gazing at you in utter adoration.
You seem to be settling into life well, and I think your Mum and I are doing a pretty good job of keeping you happy, safe, warm, clean, and fed. The latter is all down to your Mum right now but that means I get to hang out with you, hold you in my arms and, so far, you don’t seem to be bored of my chat although admittedly it’s mostly been silly noises.
You’ve met the family already, Granny Morna, Grandpa Liam and Uncle Robbie were all thrilled to say hello, your Auntie Jen (keeping the family tradition going) had a special t-shirt to wear the first time you met, your cousin Lucy has had a squish and, well, your cousin Daisy is only 9 months old herself so it’s safe to say that neither of you were that aware of each other but that’ll change!
And of course Granny McLean was delighted to meet her first grandson, she’ll definitely spoil you rotten (although I think Granny Morna is up for the challenge). I am a little sad that you won’t get to meet Grandpa McLean, but trust me when I say he would’ve adored you every bit as much as I do.
I’ll roll out some cliches now because they are all true (or they wouldn’t be cliches); since the minute the nurse handed me to you, all swaddled up, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’ll happily confess that I cried, tears of joy streaming down my face as I looked at you, and I knew instantly that I’d do anything for you. Anything.
Since you arrived it’s been a whirlwind of feeding, napping, and changing. Ohh and noises and wriggling and smooshes. Lots of those. Cannot get enough of you, holding you, gazing at you… I may have said that already.
You are putting on weight well, feeding well (and often) and so far seem to be very chilled out, laidback little person. It’s fascinating to watch you already becoming a small boy, losing that newborn baby face, and those big eyes (just like your Mum) starting to take in the world around you. You’ve made friends with the dogs too, although right now they aren’t interested at all as you can’t play with them or give them food.
I’m your Dad.
What a sentence that is, so short but so utterly life changing in the most wonderful of ways.
I apologise now for all the bad jokes, but everything else is yours to discover. Your Mum and I will be there every step of the way as you grow, and we can’t wait to meet the adult you, regardless of what choices you make. We will be there for you, and just want you to be safe and sensible, although neither of us are sure how we will help you achieve any level of “being sensible” as, as you’ll find out soon enough, we are both a bit daft.
But we love you. More than I realised was possible.
My gorgeous boy,
Your Dad x
P.S. We have decided not to share many photos of you on social media. Only abstracts for the main part, as we want that to be your decision when you grow up.