So we all know that being a parent is not all sunshine and puppies. It's harder than you realize, and sometimes it feels impossible. For those of us who struggle with our mental health, just being there for our children can take a toll out of us that we don't know if we can recover from. We try our best to be a positive role model, to always be present and attentive, and to keep a smile on our faces. All the while the thoughts and doubts in our head rage like a violent thunderstorm.
What about before our children are born? What about the time we spend building everything up in our minds? It's almost harder during the pregnancy, because you are asking yourself questions that you cannot answer until you are actually interacting with your child. Will I be a good father, or will I just repeat the mistakes that my parents made? Can I handle the uncertainty, or will my fears be too strong for me to overcome? Am I strong enough?
Let's try to break this down piece by piece. For most of us, the biggest influence on our parental abilities is our own parents. My parents were not perfect, but I was lucky enough to have both of them together, and they tried their best to raise my sister and I well. I'd like to think they did a pretty good job. For others, though, their experiences were vastly different. Some were raised by parents who just didn't care much about their children, and thus deprived them of the love and attention they needed. Others had parents who cared too much, and overwhelmed them by making them feel like they would never be good enough.
What about parents who walked out on their children, leaving them to be raised by a single parent? While I have seen some amazing single parents, others became bitter and resentful towards their children, blaming them for their spouse leaving. Then you have those who were not even raised by their parents. Some were blessed to have family members take them in, while others found themselves in the foster care system. Maybe they even had to raise themselves.
Let me say this: you are not your parents. Regardless of how you were raised, that is not an indication on how you will raise your own children. I have heard from men whose childhoods were absolute horror stories, and yet they are some of the most loving and caring fathers I have ever met. They absolutely feared what kind of parent they would be, but they were determined to give their kids a better life than they had.
What about the uncertainty? Being a parent is fraught with circumstances beyond your control. From the pregnancy, to the birth, to learning to crawl, walk and run, to the first time they are away from you overnight. You want to protect them always, to make sure that nothing bad will ever happen to them. Unfortunately, life does not operate like that. All we can do is hope for the best, while at the same time trying to make sure that if anything does happen that we cannot control, that we know how to react. Our first priority is to be there for our family. You might not be able to stop a skinned knee or a banged head, but you can be there with comfort and assurance. There may always be a bully, an accident, a heartache, a loss. We cannot stop them from happening. What we can do is be the one who holds our children up and simply say, "I will always be here for you".
When my wife was pregnant with my son, I had all the typical worries. I was excited, but at the same time terrified. My head was filled with a thousand questions, and my anxiety was having a field day. That pales in comparison to when my daughter was on the way. I had no idea how I could be a parent to two kids. Would I be able to love them the same? I knew I was a good father for my son, but I seriously doubted that I could be that good for two. Could I handle it? My anxiety was at a steady high, and I found myself so depressed because of all my doubts and questions. I couldn't do it. There was no way.
My daughter will be two months old tomorrow. I will be completely honest and say that it has not been easy. There have been times since she was born where I have had second thoughts about having another child. I questioned why we decided it was a good idea. I would look at my son and my heart would swell; but with my daughter, the connection just wasn't there. Even though I was holding her in my arms, I just didn't feel like she was mine.
A week or two ago, she smiled and coo'd at me, and the clouds began to clear a little bit. They say that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I prefer to call it the sunlight that breaks through the storm.
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