This weekend will be my second Father’s Day, but it feels like my first, for two reasons.
Reason one: This time round I’m not such a bubbling, confused, sleep depraved, anxious, cluster of flesh and bone. Last year baby was barely a month old and I was a wreck. And I didn’t feel like a dad at all, which leads me to…
Reason two: This time I actually feel like a dad, I can announce that title with pride and have some level of confidence in my ability to look after our little one and entertain her. That might sound obvious but for me, and the journey I’ve been on the last 15 months, it’s an in imaginative leap from where I was in my dark times. I sometimes wondered if I’d ever get to this point, and I’m relieved and happy that I have. I know the work has barely begun, but I at least feel my fatherhood foundations are built on much strong rock.
Last year’s Father’s Day lead to some horrible and upsetting arguments, we’re both in a much better place now, and I can’t wait until Sunday.