Listen, future fathers, and hear this truth: The moment your woman bears life, your own, as it was, ends. Not about you, not anymore. Soon, you’ll labor endlessly, thanklessly. Sleep? A memory in the quest to be a great dad, unnoticed by your weary-eyed peers at work. Your worries? A constant shadow, every potential harm to your child is a battle in your mind. And when your wife, your partner, your world, buckles under stress, it’s likely you who’ll stand in the storm, unsheltered.
Brace yourself for the grind of multiple jobs, or one you loathe, because need outweighs want. You’ll toil under the unyielding sun of responsibility, your efforts like water in the sand, essential yet scarcely seen. The clock ticks, indifferent to your weariness. In this marathon, your breaths are short, your strides uncelebrated. Welcome to the league of unnoticed, forever weary men we call fathers. Your past life? A story, now concluded.
Advance the years. Now in the middle-ages of life, pick-up sports are a gamble, additional weight a new companion. Grey hairs, or none. Women’s glances, once warm, now pass by. Young folks see a relic where you stand. Your clothes, a testament to times gone by. New songs on the radio, foreign and jarring. The ‘dad bod,’ your new truth. Dental woes, a late reminder of youth’s neglect. Health checks, once an afterthought, now a regular reckoning. Friends from youth, some gone forever. Remember these words when you search “sciatica symptoms.” You were warned.
No return, my friend. You’re deep in the passage of time. Broken, exhausted. All you knew and loved, transformed, save for those fleeting instants – a tired you, a sleeping child on your chest. You’ll find solace in these bursts of happiness, brief respites in a landscape often harsh and unyielding. These are the oasis moments, hold them close.
You’ll give everything. Years. No gratitude, no acknowledgment. Your emotions, a silent burden. Depression in men, especially fathers, a chapter unwritten. But in this whirlwind, there comes a day. Your child, in a pure embrace, whispers, “Dad, I love you.” A feeling beyond compare, a reward for unseen labors.
As the chapters start to unfold, witness the evolution of your role. From the hero of their early tales, you become the silent guardian of their teenage quests. Your presence, once their entire world, now a steady shadow at the edge of their growing independence. This transition, bittersweet, is the nature of fatherhood–to love fiercely, then learn to let go. You watch, heart both swelling and aching, as they step into their own stories, penning chapters where you are but a supporting character.
My advice? It’s not about you. It never was. You’re in the background now, and understanding this lessens the sting of daily struggles. No thanks will come, not as you hope. But beneath all of this, something still shifts for the better.
I write this as my children grow, their presence at home starting to become a fleeting joy. The perks, like the vacations we share, are rare gems. Their gradual departure, a silent ache in my heart. I long to relive even the thankless times, fleeting as they are. “Remember, it’s about them, not you,” I tell myself. My understanding of my own advice comes only in retrospect.
In the quiet of your heart, you’ll grapple with questions unspoken. Did I do enough? Could I have loved harder, guided wiser? The doubts, like uninvited guests, will linger in your thoughts. But in these moments, look upon your children–their strength, their kindness, the light in their eyes. These are reflections of your love, the unseen ripples of your guidance. In them, find your answers and your peace.
The explicit ‘thank you’ may remain a dream. Yet, as they grow, become their own, their successes, their happiness, become your silent ovation. Your sacrifices, maybe unseen by them, but their joy is your vindication. Your deepest regret won’t be the sacrifices made, but the fleeting time with those you cherish most.
So, in your exhaustion, stress, and anger, hold it close. It’s tough, but necessary. This journey isn’t yours. Spare your family the weight of your frustration. Your journey, steeped in silence and sacrifice, is the most profound love letter you will ever write. Not with ink, but with every act of selflessness, every sleepless night, every silent worry. This, my friends, is the heart of fatherhood–a story of unyielding love, written in the quiet spaces of everyday life.
Now, savor every moment, endure every sacrifice, because, my friend, this isn’t about you.
With sincerity,
Ter Dines
