It happened again: I became a better writer. It’s true. Not that it was anything I did. In fact, I haven’t pecked at the keys, studied the craft, or even read for pleasure in months. Strictly speaking, all I did was put on scrubs and give time a ride.
And here I am, on the other side of the equation – a few months down the road and now the father of two. And at just four months old, our princess already has me wrapped around her little fingers. Yea, I’m toast. But I truly believe that I’m now a better writer (this post may not reflect this improvement just yet!). Even in her short tenure, our daughter has made me live through all those emotions a writer should – no must – be able to describe:
- Fear – yea, this one is pretty self-explanatory. Those isolated hiccups in the middle of the night pale in comparison to the expectations I have as a father of a little girl. Our little girl. There is an undeniable pressure to be a father, a friend, and her protector. Though I know I have it in me to be a great dad, there is nothing more terrifying than not being absolutely everything that she will need me to be.
- Conflict – It’s inevitable. To be fair, I’m not the type who will sit on a porch with a shotgun waiting for her to come home at 8:29PM from her first date – I’m not a gun person. I’ll be waiting in the bushes with a hockey stick…first kiss at 35 is my mantra. I’ve also seen Father of the Bride enough to know that in the blink of an eye, I’ll have to let her go. I’m going to struggle with that one, even if I walk her down the aisle at 42. I’ve seen the way other infant boys cry at her, and I don’t like it one bit.
- Perspective – It’s one thing to be married to a beautiful, wonderful, and amazing woman, but it will be another to raise one. I’m afraid I’m going to learn more about the other sex than I ever cared to know.
Perhaps more than these emotions, it’s all about persistence – with very little to no sleep, superhero action figures (and soon to be dolls?) where our wine rack used to be, and all the other things that come with parenthood, we still get on with it and enjoy the wonderful gifts we have (and we have many). This notion includes finishing the manuscripts I’ve started but haven’t found the time or energy to complete. Am I afraid of failure? Sure. Will there be conflicts along the way? Absolutely. But the joy of writing is a gift now enriched with the wonderment of being a father of two, and it’s almost an obligation to push through so that one day I can look back and revel in the idea that my writing made my family proud.