On Fatherhood (and insecurity)

The clock is passing midnight as I write, and officially it becomes seven years from when I first became a dad. This makes me think of my dad, who has the habit of wishing me a Happy Father’s Day on this day, noting that is the day that I became a father.

My thoughts then turn to Jonah. I think of holding him for the first time. It was a Wednesday. I remember sitting in an uncomfortable hospital rocking chair that evening, watching a Royals game with my boy. I think about my parents holding him for the first time. I think about my dad calling my sister to tell her the news, and finding out she was already out shopping for boys clothes. I think about how friends and family moved our stuff into our house while we were in the hospital so that Jonah’s first night at home was also ours. Those moments are so vivid, like it indeed happened yesterday. But it didn’t. It happened seven years ago.

From then, it’s a blur. I can think of highlights here and there, a sister came along two years later, a brother three years after that. I remember a move, a new job or two (or three). I remember times of loss, times of sorrow, times when I didn’t measure up. Those things are easy to remember, hard to forget. I wasn’t there for him, for her, for any of them for certain periods of time. Sometimes for good reasons, sometimes for bad. I think of all I’ve missed.

Then I think of a friend, who rather than point out his father’s shortcomings, said something I’ll never forget. “Anytime I get upset about something my dad does, I just remember that he’s never been a dad before, just as much as I’ve never been a son before.”

And I think about my dad. Not my dad now, but the dad I only know from pictures of a young man holding me, his first born. And maybe just because up until this point I’ve only thought of him as an old pro at this dad business I’ve never had these thoughts before. But now, for the first time I see him as a kid, like I was the day Jonah was born. I realize that he was probably scared out of his mind like I was too. That he probably had doubts that he was doing the right thing. I’ve found that much like they say that youth is wasted on the young, so too is the privilege of sonship wasted on those who haven’t been a father. While I understand that by nature this is a necessity, I wish I would’ve known. Because today, like never before, I understand my dad.

I’ve found that it’s much easier to be a son since I became a father. I don’t have a master plan. I don’t know what I’m doing. I only know the kind of people I want my children to be. And I think that’s ok. I listen to people I admire who have been in my shoes. I think about what my dad would do. I look at the pictures of me holding my son and remember how young I was. And I think of how he will look at that same picture and just see dad, not a scared kid who couldn’t keep a goldfish alive, now responsible for a baby.

If fatherhood were an elementary school band competition, I wouldn’t get first prize. I’d get a participation ribbon. I’ve had more failures than successes. But I think the successes are more frequent now. I wish Jonah would’ve got to see more of them when he was small. Hopefully he will appreciate them more now that he’s not.

I’m sure that Jonah’s opinion of who dad is will be somewhat different from his sister, and maybe quite different from his brother. I just hope he remembers me as the guy who tried his best. I hope he wants to be like me someday, not because I do something heroic or amaze the world with feats of strength, but because I treated him with respect and let him be himself. Because I loved him sacrificially and at some point learned how to put his needs above mine. Because I showed him how to treat his wife by how I treated his mother.  Because I showed him what devotion means by my actions, not my words. I hope the camping trip I take him on tonight will be one of many successes he comes to know me for, rather than the times I’ve dropped the ball.

I really hope that he has a happy birthday.

Happy Father’s Day to me.