Uneasy
Time has flown. Next month, I am going to be a father.
My wife's pregnancy has felt strange and wonderful. There is a little life kicking inside her belly, and somehow it feels both real and unreal.
Every time I go with her to a prenatal checkup, see our baby on the ultrasound, call their name toward her belly, or feel them move beneath my hand, I feel happy and amazed all over again.
The pressure only began to sink in as we got closer to the due date. Before that, buying a crib, baby clothes, and a stroller had just been exciting.
I am sure many people, like me, have asked themselves: "Are you ready to be a father?"
If you answer decisively, "I'm ready," then either you are fooling yourself or you are much more confident than I am.
I do not think I can ever be fully "ready." Every time I meet one standard, I set another for myself.
You have to think about money, resources, time, your state of mind, and much more. I also know that one or several of these concerns lead many people to decide not to have children at all.
I understand. The commitment is enormous.
But look on the bright side.
What you get in return is a child, your own child. How could you put a material value on them?
I believe having a child will bring more color into my life.
I picture myself playing games with a son, watching cartoons with a daughter, or taking a family road trip with the three of us. The thought alone gives me a little rush of dopamine.
I do want that kind of life.
I will make every preparation I can, but I suspect it will never feel like enough.
What would make me a good father? No one has the one right answer, and there is no cheat sheet for the test.
You have to make a life for yourself. No mathematical formula can do it for you.
I cannot wait.
I will do everything I can to create a beautiful future for my child.
Not the kind of childhood my father created for me.
A terrible father
Fuck you, Dad
Sorry for swearing in the heading, but I mean it.
I may never have spoken publicly about my own backstory before, but this time is different.
I am willing to be vulnerable here because I want this article to show who I really am.
My father left when I was little. He did not die. He left.
Half of my childhood always felt missing. My mother had to work hard to support us, so my maternal grandparents raised me.
Growing up, I had no father figure to look up to. I never blamed my mother. What I remember is the hatred I carried for my father from elementary school into middle school.
That was not healthy. I know.
But that hatred stayed with me throughout my childhood, living rent-free in my head and never once paying up.
In middle school and high school, I found Eminem's music and heard myself in it. I practiced every day, trying to capture the same feeling in my own rapping. I turned anger into fuel and secretly rehearsed rap songs at school, mostly Eminem tracks.
Back then, I just wanted to fucking prove to him what a terrible mistake he had made by abandoning me.
I wanted nothing more than to make him regret it. In those years, the voice in my head kept saying, "Fuck you, Dad."
Thank you, Dad
At university, I began to see the other side of it.
Growing up without a father made me work harder to prove that I was not "unloved," so I kept teaching myself new skills.
It also means that when I become a father, I can set my own standard from scratch instead of measuring myself against him.
So thank you for your absence. Thank you for disappearing from my childhood and making it possible for me to become who I am today.
What am I trying to say?
I had a terrible father, so I know what one looks like. I can choose not to become one myself.
And I promise that, whatever happens, I will never do the same thing or anything like it to my child.
Closing
I spent a long time wondering whether to write this post.
I think I needed to. Writing it down is a release in itself.
If my child ever reads this article, remember this:
Dad will truly love you for the rest of his life.