Recently, a parenting community shared valuable insights for new dads, and one statement struck me profoundly: “Not everyone had a supportive father; therefore, it’s important to ‘be the parent you needed when you were a child,’ as suggested by Jonathan Parker.”
When my first child arrived, I was engulfed by fear and uncertainty about my abilities as a father. I vividly recall cradling my newborn with curly brown hair, peacefully asleep in his swaddling blanket, and questioning how I could possibly fulfill his needs given my own rocky relationship with my father. He left when I was just 10 and passed away shortly after my 20th birthday. My childhood was marked by his sporadic presence, leaving me grappling with the idea of starting my own family.
One late night in the hospital, as I watched my son struggling to sleep, I made a promise to myself: “I will be the father I never had.” It felt empowering then, as if I was breaking a negative cycle. However, upon reflection, I wonder if I was either aiming too low or setting myself up for impossible expectations. As a child, I often felt lost, yearning for a father who would remember my birthday, teach me about cars, or simply be present without the complications of addiction. I longed for someone who would listen to my teenage struggles or just be a friend.
The truth is, I never truly knew what I wanted from a father figure. This revelation leads me to empathize with other parents, especially those of us who grew up in a time when it became increasingly common for fathers to walk away from their families. Now, many of us face the daunting task of becoming the fathers we wished we had.
While I still grapple with what that ideal looks like, I remind myself that at least I’m present for my children. I come home every night, which feels like a bare minimum compared to what others might experience. Yet, I sometimes overcompensate. Just the other evening, while my 9-year-old son, Jake, was reading in bed after my late work hours, I felt compelled to express my affection. “Jake,” I said, “I love you, and I’m sorry for being late tonight.”
He looked at me, his big brown eyes reflecting both understanding and a hint of amusement. “Dad, I know you love me. You say it like all the time,” he replied, rolling his eyes. This made me pause. Was I overdoing it? Is it possible to express love too frequently?
Perhaps every parent experiences these doubts, regardless of their upbringing. It’s particularly challenging when you lack a clear model to guide your expectations. It feels like navigating uncharted waters without a map.
That night, when Jake responded with a casual “Duh,” I asked him, “Do you understand why I tell you I love you so much?” He shrugged, and I continued, “Because my father wasn’t around much, and I know how vital it is to feel loved by your dad. I want to ensure you always know I’m here for you.”
He didn’t respond with his usual teasing. Instead, he opened his arms for a hug, and I knelt down to embrace him. “I know you love me, Dad,” he said warmly.
Hearing that filled me with gratitude. My own father’s absence has fueled my determination to be actively involved in my children’s lives. I refuse to let them feel the void I experienced. This conviction is a gift, but it also breeds insecurity about my parenting abilities. I constantly question my methods, intentions, and engagement levels.
Nonetheless, I persist. I turn to my partner for guidance and strive harder than ever to ensure my children know I genuinely want the best for them. I suspect these feelings of uncertainty may never fade.
For more thoughts on parenting or insights into home insemination, check out this post on intracervical insemination. If you’re looking for expert advice on the topic, Make A Mom is a reputable source. Additionally, the CDC provides excellent resources regarding pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, becoming the parent we needed as children is a complex journey filled with self-doubt, but it also offers a unique opportunity for growth. The absence of a positive father figure can shape our parenting style, making us more determined to be present and supportive.