Everyone sucks in a vacuum. (Enjoy the pun -- it didn’t occur to me until I actually wrote that sentence that it even was a pun...For what it’s worth, I think parent brain must be worse than pregnancy brain).
I mean it, by the way. I have always been my biggest critic, in everything I have ever done. And despite everyone who tells me that I have the happiest, smiliest baby they have ever seen (and I am not exaggerating), I constantly engage in epic battle with myself -- we’re talking World of Warcraft levels of Sturm und Drang waged in my head -- about how I am doing as a father.
It should be noted: We spend a lot of time together, as I am a stay-at-home dad.*
(*Explanation: This is by choice. I did not lose my job or get sick or anything dramatic. My wife and I always agreed that if we could make it work financially, one of us would stay home when we had a baby. I used to be a teacher, and my wife makes more than twice what I made in that profession. So I’m the lucky one. It really was a no-brainer :)
The hand-wringing and head-banging usually happens when it’s just me and my daughter, hanging out. Or while my daughter entertains herself while I do laundry. Or while I prepare her food. Or while I install cloth diaper sprayers that connect to my toilet. Or while I steal away to reorganize the garage, hoping that the baby monitor stays in range where I can hear when she inevitably wakes from her nap in the middle of my attempt to accomplish the most menial task that is impossible when she is awake.
During the first six months of my daughter’s life, I spent way too much time defining myself as a crappy parent for everything I was doing wrong. I wasn’t holding her enough. I wasn’t giving her enough tummy time. I wasn’t talking to her enough. I wasn’t paying enough attention to her. I wasn’t helping her develop good enough sleep habits. She’s crying because I’m not mommy and she hates me and I’m not meeting her needs -- I can tell by the way she looks at me! And I suck. I’m the worst father in the world.
Then I realized that everyone sucks. When they’re on their own. When there’s no other feedback than the echo chamber inside your own head, you can do a lot of damage to yourself. It took me too long to realize that when other people tell you that your baby looks happy and healthy, you should take that, accept it, and realize that you’re doing the best you can.
I love my daughter. And I know that she knows that I love her (as much as her seven-month-old brain is capable of understanding that). I know because of the smiles she gives me when I pick her up out of her crib in the mornings. I know because she calls me Da-Da-Da. I know because of the joy she brings to other people, and the joy they bring to her. My mom tries to come up and visit from Colorado Springs once a week, and my daughter is ecstatic. She laughs and smiles, and she waves her arms around in happiness whenever Grandma comes over. I know she loves me because she smiles at strangers and she plays with our friends from church. She feels safe because my wife and I meet her needs and love her with all our hearts, even when we screw up.
I’m so thankful for the opportunity to stay at home with my daughter, but it is far harder than I could have imagined. I didn’t expect to have sleep issues and experience the level of anxiety that I do about pretty much everything related to my daughter. But I have realized that other people -- friends, family, church members -- are happy to help. It gives them joy to be a part of my daughter’s life. She learns from everyone who interacts with her. Everyone makes different kinds of googly eyes at her. They play with her differently. They say different things and say things differently than I do. Me? I constantly ask her questions that she never answers. I’m sure she gets tired of that.
It does take a village. A note to expectant parents: This cliche matters. Every child -- EVERY CHILD -- should grow up in a community that surrounds them with love and engages them with joy. I am so thankful that my daughter has that, through our family, friends and church.
So it may not be Thanksgiving, but I am giving thanks right now. My family couldn’t do this without you. My daughter doesn’t know how to say it yet, but I know she would say it if she could:
Thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment