Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, -Psalm 127:3a

Today is Father’s Day. And in honor of Father’s Day, I wanted to share some thoughts about being a dad.

I didn’t used to know how much I’d like being a dad, but being a dad is one of my greatest joys and privileges in life. I’m not gonna lie and say it’s always easy; because it’s not. Even just a few months in and with a mostly easygoing baby, it can still be difficult at times. Babies get messy, and they cry for reasons you have to try to figure out (food, usually food). Sometimes you might even get upset yourself. At them. But at the end of the day, there is something indescribable about being a parent. Though I can’t speak for what it means to be a mother, I can speak from my experience as a fledgling father. If I were to make a book on the joys of fatherhood at this stage, it would just be pictures of shirts covered in spit up and vomit. Sure it’s gross and will never not be gross, but beyond that grossness are cherished memories and precious time together.

While my daughter is just a few months on the outside of the womb, fatherhood for me did not begin the day she was born. It began months prior, as I was being prepared mentally and emotionally to begin my new role and be ready to step into dad mode. In many ways, nothing changes for a man when a child is expected. As a man, I am unable to experience pregnancy, to feel the movements, the quiet expectations, the internalization of what is happening to me.  It’s only through my wife’s words and sonogram visits that I got a glimpse of what now is. (I’m thankful I work at a place that allowed me the opportunity to be at every appointment.)

That first sonogram made knowing I’m a father real, seeing the form of a tiny human, seeing those little undeveloped arm nubs, watching and hearing that tiny heartbeat for the first time. If a heart could smile, such an experience would’ve made my heart smile. We didn’t yet know if it was a boy or girl, but in those moments, it didn’t matter. There on that screen was our little bean. (Incidentally, it was in the shadow of Roe v Wade being overturned that we experienced this joyous occasion, and I couldn’t help but also be repulsed by the barbarity of those who pretend this isn’t what we could clearly see.)

When my daughter was born, she spent her first couple weeks in NICU. The reason wasn’t life-threatening per se, but it was enough to warrant a stay. In those days, weeks, and months leading up to our baby’s arrival, we were willing to accept parental advice from others. (It’s our first child, and we had no idea what we were doing.) But in all that advice, there was no preparing for this. Whatever we had thought or hoped might happen, we ended up spending days driving to and from a hospital to stay with our baby for a while, only to go home without her and do it again the next day. We even had icy weather that kept us away one of those days. It was a rather unpleasant time of uncertainty, but we were so happy and relieved when we could finally take our baby girl home with us.

Every once in a while, you might hear “my child taught me this or that.” My daughter is still an infant, so I can’t really say she’s taught me anything, but she gives me a reason to smile. More accurately, she is one of my reasons to smile; when I smile at her, she smiles back. I have resting baby face (in polite terms), and I don’t often think about smiling. I tend to be more focused on my own thoughts or whatever task I’m dealing with at the moment. But if I want to see her smile, I often must smile at her first. There are times she smiles unprompted, and I feel the urge to smile back. Sometimes she smiles big, showing gums and all, and that’s one of my favorite things in life: big smiles from my little girl.

Being a parent means a lot of decisions, responsibilities, and sacrifice. Needless to say, fatherhood is not always glitz and glamour; maybe it never is. Unfortunately, too many men abandon fatherhood too quickly, in some case before the baby even arrives. They run away from the responsibility of parenthood, but they also miss out on things that make it special, such as just holding one’s own baby. I’ve held babies of friends and family, but there’s something special about holding my own baby in my arms, watching that baby fall asleep on my chest, even with the unspoken understanding such moments won’t last forever. I know my daughter won’t stay little forever. (Admittedly, there’s a part of me that wishes she could, but that’s not how life works.) Maybe it goes without saying that there’s incredible responsibility as a parent, but there’s also joy that comes with being one. In spite of all the diaper changes and spit up, holding my own baby is one the most special experiences I know of, and it makes all the challenges worth it.

As I mentioned, I’m just starting out on this journey called parenthood, more specifically fatherhood, so I don’t have any deep insights about raising children. Although there is more that I could say about being a dad, I’m still learning how to raise an infant. I can’t see how my baby will turn out, and I don’t know what mistakes I’ll make along the way either. I do know my baby won’t be a baby forever, so for now I’m going to hold her close and enjoy my time with her while she still is. Spit up and all.