Real Men Don’t Cry (Part 1)
No, really, they don’t. I don’t personally know any real men, but, I digress.
This is the story of how I found myself – finally – at the birth of my oldest daughter.
My early life was fraught with failures and disappointments. I never gained self esteem. As early as 1st grade I have memories of not liking myself, although I have a feeling that it was always there. I suffered from crushing depressive episodes and anxiety coupled with OCD tendencies (read: anal-retentive). I was an adopted child and although my family was always loving and caring, I felt empty, like something was missing.
And it hurt.
People mostly stayed away from me, I think they saw the storm clouds over my head. As a teen and a young adult, well….less said about that, the better. I discovered the joys of alcohol during these years, and to say I even wouldn’t like myself is redundant because we’ve already established my self image/esteem problems.
I tried a lot of different things to fill the void, but nothing worked. Broken relationships and marriages, ruining friendships, alienating family, etc. I was always hopeful in the back of mind that I could find peace someday, even though externally I wasn’t positive about it.
Cut to 2004. My marriage was doing well, we had our bumps but who doesn’t? We had halfheartedly tried to have a child, but nothing happened. We were content with our small family. I might have been a bit uneasy, but I was learning to live with certain things. In September of that year, my wife had not been feeling….right. She tried a pregnancy test on a whim. Surprisingly, it came up positive. We were going to have a baby!
I felt that I was ready, but still nervous. My mind raced with the thought of being a father..
Was I ready? Would my child like me? Who would they look like? How am I gonna afford to pay for this? It was a long wait for the baby to arrive.
I was in for the whole delivery scenario, but it made me extremely anxious. Finally, the baby came. After the nurses cleaned her up a bit, I got to hold her. She was tiny. She was red and wrinkly. She was crying non-stop. She was beautiful. I thought it warm in the room and I was sweating. I wasn’t sweating, I was crying.
My wife and I had gone through the whole name thing, and we wanted something that fit with our last name, flow so to speak. I came up with the one that stuck, and it felt right. She was my pride and joy, and I had never been happier in my whole life. Finally, someone who shared flesh and blood with me. I was still uncertain at times, but it was becoming easier for me to be natural instead of forced. She slept either in the crook of my arm, or on my chest. I got her first smiles. I gradually began to realize that my emptiness was slipping away, replaced by the sweet little girl that actually was starting to resemble me.
Life was never better.
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Archie is my husband, father to my children, and as you can see a very caring one at that. He’ll be making a few guests posts – and this is just the first in the series. He’ll talk more about the “first blood relation” feeling, what it was like for him as we gradually realized something wasn’t ‘right’ with our baby girl. All from his point of view. You’ve heard mine often, I thought it would be nice to hear his as well. The posts will be probably once a week – so long as he keep them coming and you show him some love…so please comment for Archie – he’d love to hear your thoughts – and it will help bring him back!!