Don’t Fight It, Just Accept That Fatherhood Will Make You Cry

I am a private person. I don’t like showing emotions. Right or wrong, I think it exudes weakness. Also, I wouldn’t say I like talking about my problems. Will I do it if my wife pokes and prods enough? Sure. But, for the most part, I want to work on whatever is in my head by myself and within my own timeframe. While my fight to avoid talking about my problems still persists during fatherhood, my ability to prevent showing emotion has occasionally failed me. I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing though. And as you’ll see, it’s not exactly like I’ve had a choice.

That may as well have been etched on my grave marker had I died before children. I had always believed men just shouldn’t cry. That was likely inspired by the fact that I’d never seen my dad cry while growing up. In fact, as I sit here typing, I can only distinctly recall one time pre-adulthood that I cried. I was 12 years old in a championship baseball game and with the winning run on second and two outs, I flew out to the left fielder. I had led the team in just about every statistical hitting category. However, I came up short when it mattered the most and my emotions got the better of me.

I am sure there were several times from the age of six through my teenage years that I cried. I just don’t remember those times though. And that’s the way I always thought it should be. Until I grew up.

As I’ve gotten through childhood, young adulthood, and my twenties, I’ve gained a lot of things- including perspective. That perspective included the understanding that showing emotion, occasionally at least, is unavoidable if you truly care about something. It may only happen a few times during a man’s life. And let me assure you, that’s a weird thought for me. I didn’t really care about much of anything-until August 2016. That is when at the young age of 26 I met my future wife and, looking back on it, fell in love very quickly.

That love culminated in a few things, the first of which was marriage. My dad and I walked my mom down the aisle before the ceremony started. After hugging my mom, and then my dad, I felt powerless to stop what was coming. As I walked back towards the entrance of the sanctuary, the tears flowed gently. This, now more than four years later, will be news to my wife. Now I wasn’t sobbing like a little girl. I just needed 30 seconds to compose myself and then it was over. But I clearly and truly cared about something.

I’ve read that sentiment before. The one where some men say they didn’t feel anything, let alone love, when holding their baby for the first time because they were shellshocked. I call bullsh*t. I felt it right away and if you’re a man and are prepared to give up everything for that child, you’ll feel it immediately, too.

Surprisingly, even though I was hooked, I didn’t have that sense of powerlessness that I felt minutes before I kissed my bridge. My eyes were certainly watering, but they weren’t flowing. It could’ve been the exhaustion. They don’t warn you about how exhausted you’ll be waiting for your wife to hurry up and finally deliver the baby! I kid, kind of. Maybe it was the reality check while holding a helpless six-pound, eight-ounce baby girl that I was 50% responsible for its wellbeing. Or perhaps it was the exhaustion. Who knows? What should’ve been clear in that moment is that I may have avoided the powerlessness sensation for now, but that door would be banged on plenty of times in the future.

My wife got me good on my birthday. Ok, she got me good TWICE, but in different ways. That was 50% a sex joke. Just wanted to make that clear.

My gift ‘from’ my daughter was a 10-ish minute video my wife created. It feature a variety of pictures and videos of my daughter’s first nine months of life. I fought and fought and fought, but I lost that battle nearly eight minutes into the video. My daughter, since the second time visiting her pediatrician, has been in at least the 80th percentile in height and weight. And here I am, on my birthday, viewing a video of my daughter growing up. The time flies.

I sobbed. There’s no getting around it. I know people say this all the time, but it was truly the best gift I’ve ever been given. Until the next one is made. If you have a wife even 25% as good as mine, you’ll get to watch your own video of your daughter growing. And you’ll lose your fu*king mind in the absolute best way possible.

About six weeks ago I was on the floor of our living room, just like any other day, reading a book. The book is titled, “Guess How Much I Love You,” and features a child rabbit and a parent rabbit saying how much they love each other. Those fu*king rabbits. After looking at my daughter while reading it, the powerless feeling hit me again.

I instinctively hid my face from her. But she kept trying to nuzzle me and it got even worse. So I hugged her, we stopped reading, I put her down for a nap (thank God it was nap time), and then I went to clean a gun, chop wood, smack myself in the face, sext my wife, and do a bunch of other alpha male activities.

My conclusion after a couple of these soap opera-like experiences? If you’re a good dad, you’re going to cry. Don’t fight it, just accept that fatherhood will make you cry. I still believe that your young kids shouldn’t see you cry. Your children need you to be the rock that they can lean on. They need to believe that you’re so strong there’s no problem you can’t solve. Until that inevitable time comes when they realize you’re not invincible.

Putting that aside, it has become abundantly clear to me that there is nothing I would not do for my wife and my daughter. NOTHING. And I’ve accepted that because these two people are so important to me, that powerless feeling is going to strike repeatedly- whether I want it or not. And that’s okay. It goes with the theme that you should be prepared to expect anything from fatherhood.