The first time that they placed Victor in my arms, I didn’t have the moment of awe and love, I had fear, pure fear. I was afraid that I would drop the child, I was afraid to cough on him and give him the pneumonia that I had two days prior. I was afraid to offend the birth mother in someway and she would change her mind and not let us have this child that we were totally unprepared to take care of.
Fatherhood is full of wonderful things; there are the baby smiles and giggles, hearing my wife scream when he pees on her. The best part however is the way he looks at me, if it’s because I have bottle or because I have come home from a long day, he has this way of looking at me that melts my heart. After a bad day, I come home in a foul mood, he smiles and then I realize, nothing that has happened that day matters, just him and my wife.
It is with this in mind that I write about Fathers day, up until my dad died, Father’s day was always about my dad, and then my brother and my dad once my brother became a father. I have memories of family lunches or dinners, sometimes cheesy gifts and I look back, I see a sense of obligation they felt to the family to spend their day being doted on.
When I think about how much my father struggled to survive, and for him, it was a matter of survival, I realize now that I had no clue what he went through. This was because no matter how much he struggled, we never really saw it. My father and mother would go without new clothes and vacations so that my brother and I could have whatever we wanted (within reason). My father worked long hours and some weekends to make sure that we didn’t struggle like he did. My bother worked two jobs and went to school for a good portion of his kids lives so that he could provide them with a better life.
I say all this because when I started to make my plans for my first Father’s day, all my plans quickly fell apart. This was because I made the mistake of a new father I thought it was about me, it’s not, and from the moment that they placed Victor in my arms till the day I die, it will never be about me anymore. Instead, like my father and my brother, my life is about my boys Victor and Otis. I know that Otis is a dog and my love for him pales in comparison to my love for my child, but there is still a strong bond between me and the dog that will be with me forever.
As I type this, I realize that while on some level I am a little envious of my friends who are dual income and no kids, I don’t miss that life. Before Sarah and I had Victor and Otis, I remember how boring my life was. Sure, I can do without the explosive diapers and late night crying, but that is what I believe helped me form a bond with my child. And while my feelings would not be hurt if my child never threw up on me or the carpet again, I realize I would sooner deal with that than I would a life without baby giggles and baby smiles.
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