Becoming a father was an experience filling me with a pride I’d never felt before. When the initial euphoria passed my emotions ranged from happiness to concern. Realizing I’d be responsible for caring for this this fragile little thing my biggest worry was please don’t let me screw this up.
Esther and I started out as tag-team parents. She gave me my initial parental crash course—SAHD 101. It was all new to me, my first time feeding, changing and bathing a baby, it went well but I was working with a net—Esther was there to grab the reins if there was a problem.
Esther’s returning to work from maternity leave meant it was time for me to fly solo. Easing my transition she packed the baby bag and left three outfits for Cristian daily. I eased her separation anxiety by texting her status updates and pictures of the baby throughout the day.
In addition to my initial anxiety, a few family members were concerned—okay maybe more than a few. Trips to Grandma and Grandpa’s always seemed to coincide with aunts, uncles and cousins stopping by for a visit. Although many wanted to see the baby—sometimes it was more than that. There were too many offers to feed and change the baby. I guess they thought I didn’t know what I was doing. If I knew this in advance I’d have loaded Cristian up on prunes for an extra gooey diaper.
Coming from a large family means my family tree is filled with many older cousins who are more like aunts and uncles. My generation’s male children were the first taking a greater part in the parenting responsibilities than our fathers did. The older guys never fed or changed a baby. Looking at us they must be wondering where did we go wrong.
Initially my aunts were confused by all this shared responsibility. My brother, for example was an excellent Dad from Day One. It didn’t surprise me—my aunts didn’t know what to make of it. Watching their confused expressions the first time they saw him giving his daughter a bottle, you would have thought he split the atom.
It’s been 16-months and I still hear “how cute” from aunts, uncles and even a few neighbors when they see me taking care of the baby. If my brother feeding and bathing his daughter was a surprise then I must be a Unicorn. I mean I’m home taking care of him every day.
What the older generation hasn’t grasped is this isn’t about being cute—I’ll leave that to the baby. I’m not alone, there are many like me doing the same thing either by choice or because of their current situation. I’ve thought about leaving the baby home on the couch with a bottle and the remote while I go out, but it probably wouldn’t work out so well. So maybe not.
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