Hi Dads ā
First-time poster here. My wife ā the stepmother of my kids and all around amazing woman ā loves this community and introduced me to it.
We were talking last night, and I said something she encouraged me to share here. I suppose she thought it might mean something to some of the newer dads.
For a little context, I had my first child when I was only 24. I had just started college after not finishing school earlier in life. So I went to school while helping raise a newborn and working. I got up at 4:30 every morning, went to class, went to work, helped take care of her in between it all, stayed up half the night doing schoolwork, basically took a nap, and did it all over again.
Right as I was graduating, my second daughter was born. Four years later, just as I thought I was finally getting my head above water, my son arrived.
Needless to say, it was hard. It was exhausting. I lost touch with most of my friends. I felt isolated. It seemed like 99.99% of my waking hours were spent working or taking care of my home and family.
I remember swearing to my mom that I would never miss those days.
Well, now the kids are all but grown. Our oldest is in her third year of college. Our younger daughter is a teenager and off with her friends most nights. Our son is 11.
And last night I said to my wife:
āWhen I look back on when the kids were really little, I feel nothing but nostalgia for all of it. All I remember is the good stuff. And Iād do it all over a million times if I could.ā
For all the exhaustion, late nights, annoyances, interruptions, and everything else, Iād give almost anything to rock my kids to sleep again, to be woken up in the middle of the night by my daughter crying because she had a nightmare, to see my son with his snaggle tooth and goofy glasses crying because I wouldnāt buy him a pair of Paw Patrol slippers at Old Navy ā an experience that happened time and again and was so aggravating to me at the time.
Those are the things I remember now, and they are all happy memories.
So, new dads: as exhausting as all of this is, I can promise you that when you look back 10 or 15 years from now, the hard parts will have faded.
What youāll remember are those little smiling faces. Your kids jumping into your lap. Rocking your son or daughter to sleep. Reading their favorite book for the hundredth time and feeling them squirm with excitement because they know their favorite part is coming (while you struggle to keep your eyes open).
The exhaustion and frustration that seemed so enormous at the time will feel insignificant compared with what you got in return.
And the strange, kind of heartbreaking part is that someday youāll wish you could have it back.
And you canāt.
So, as much as you can, show up for it.
Be there. Be present. Let yourself experience all of itāeven the exhausting parts.
Savor as many of those ordinary little moments as you can, because someday youāll realize they were extraordinary and fleeting.
You wonāt do it perfectly. None of us do.
And your kids donāt need you to be perfect.
They just need you to show up.