I thought I knew

I thought I knew how being a father would be. I have a father, a good one. I understood that much. I have nephews and nieces, and I love them to bits. I understood that much. So, when we became pregnant, I thought I knew how being a parent felt.

I knew I wasn’t nearly as ready as I wanted, but I didn’t think I had a vast gap in understanding how a father felt about their child. I had experienced a large swath of the human emotion spectrum and gathered a lifetime of experiences. So, I thought I knew how being a father would feel.

And then, I became a father.

Just like the flipping of a switch, everything was turned to 11. My ears wanted to hear every little sound my son made. My eyes didn’t want to rest so I may not miss a single movement of his tiny limbs. I was fiercely protective of him from the every-so-slight change in the environment surrounding him. It was like a primal instinct had awakened in me. I could feel a rage ignite, even at the slightest perceived discomfort the hospital staff caused him. The days were like a blur, and I was physically tired from the things happening—such as cleaning the home vigorously in preparation for his arrival. But I felt the most awake at the same time.

There was suddenly a world of things that really didn’t understand how fragile a baby is. There was a world of billions and billions of people who didn’t feel the same caring love as his parents felt. Just like the flipping of a switch, everything was turned to 11. I went into what I imagine was a primal urge to protect your own.

It’s been a few months since then. I’ve calmed down quite a bit—less of that primal rage. But that wakefulness never went away. I’ve come to accept that the part of me that awakened is here to stay. I feel most calm when my son is firmly in my arms, cuddling to find a comfortable position. I guess that’s part of being a father. I’m guessing that continuously learning to be a father is also part of being a father. I’ve become a father nonetheless.