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Magnus PS

Becoming a Father: The Work that Perfects the Man

The mystery of life is what keeps things interesting.

Throughout the entirety of my wife’s pregnancy, we didn’t know the sex of our baby.

We got pressure from (some) family members. We heard wive’s tales about why it would be a girl but mostly we heard wive’s tales about why it would be a boy.

Both my wife and I began to believe we were having a boy …

Fast forward to my wife pushing a head out of her vagina.

Head. Body. Toes.

The nurses and Doc said nothing.

Then, my wife yelled, “Magnus, it’s a girl!”

My first thought: “Damn, I wanted a boy.”

The nurses did what they had to do and handed my wife the baby. Our daughter looked so cute and my wife looked so happy. Already in her element as a mother.

It was the next morning, while our little nugget was resting on my chest and my wife was sleeping, that I teared up and it hit me how stupid and selfish my first thought was.

This little girl was not only exactly what we needed, it was exactly what I needed.

I knew my wife would set an incredible example of what it means to be a woman, a wife and a mother. I, on the other hand, had some work to do to set the same level of example of what it means to be a man, a husband and a father.

I desperately needed to work out some of the kinks of having grown up in a male-dominated household (Mom/Dad/3 Bros) with a father who had also grown up in a male-dominated household (Mom/Dad/3 Bros).

As much as I would be there for my little girl, she was going to be my instructor and guide.

Two months into fatherhood, and I already feel much the wiser for it. Three of the most important lessons I've learned so far:

  1. Time is invaluable.
  2. Weather the storm.
  3. Give one another time.

Let's dig in.

…

Lesson #1: Time is invaluable.

I used to be incredibly diligent with my time.

When my wife and I met, we were both intentional, go-getters. It’s one of the reasons we’re together.

But as the hands of time kept on turning, I (we) held on looser-and-looser to the notion of intentional living. There was COVID, a couple moves, job changes, marriage and, most recently, a baby.

Passive, default behavior trickled in:

It’s all too easy to start and stay behind the 8 ball these days. To let it slip away.

A lot of people, once they have a baby, use it as a shield from accountability. From being in the trenches of life.

My wife and I could sense that we’d started out on the "default" path and recently made the decision to be the active players in our own lives (again).

Rather than defaulting to screens, rubbish food, etc. we’re intentional about it and follow some basic principles:

It’s been an incredible turn-around.

While my wife has already shed 20lbs in 2 months, my scope is aimed at murdering the notion of “Dad bods”. And aside from football games, we’ve both grown bored with weekend TV time and are starting to favor the nights of sitting out on the porch, talking, walking, listening to music, journaling, reading or otherwise enjoying this life in the analog.

We both want to be there for one another and our baby.

I mean to really be there. To be present.

We realized we were frittering away our time and had to do something about it, and so we did.

Babies make time and attention skyrocket in value. They become scarce resources overnight.

There are so many little moments to catch and cherish.

Better to use the time right here, right now.

...

Lesson #2: Weather the storm.

We’ve each had our “moments” thus far.

My wife’s taken on the brunt of the baby duties and has been a Saint with regard to taking care of the baby overnight.

Only twice have I witnessed her at wit’s end, and both of those moments came from our little angel going into “demon mode” overnight. Both times my wife handed her over, in the early hours of morn, with a look of utter exhaustion and frustration.

I did my best to weather the remainder of the storm and ensure my wife be undisturbed. She needed the rest.

Once, during the witching hour, did I have such a “moment”:

My wife had stepped out for some side PT work and all hell broke loose.

We’d just done a walk so I didn’t think it could be that our little baby wanted to be outside, so I tried everything else.

Unsoothable. Screaming.

I changed her diaper. I tried having her upright, on her back, on her tummy. I rocked her. I changed rooms. I tried baby PT. I tried feeding her. I sang to her.

All of it for naught. She wanted my soul.

Then, I thought “F*ck it. Walking her outside usually works.”

Sure enough, after 10-15minutes outside, she fell back asleep. My wife arrived to a peaceful little minion suckling on the bottle from a bleary eyed Papa.

I told her what had happened and like the good soldier she is, she said, “I got dinner, go take a break.”

Just like I’d done for her, she’d done for me. Weather the storm and pass the baton.

...

Lesson #3: Give one another time.

The two obvious parts of the “teamwork makes the dream work” equation are that (a) your team got a new member and you’ve got to tune into them and (b) you and your spouse are a team that have to help one another out.

I’m going to focus on what I believe is the oft-under-spoken-about part of this equation.

While it might take a while to feel comfortable stepping away from the baby, it is absolutely essential. Especially for Moms.

As individuals. As spouses. As a family.

What my wife and I have tried looks something like:

With newborns, mothers carry the brunt of the load. Fathers step up in moments, but mothers have the team on their back every single day.

That's why fathers need to tune in to their wives and make sure they're getting time for themselves. If something she planned falls through, push to find something else—anything that brings a spark of joy and normalcy.

Even if she says she doesn't need it, she does. Stay the path. Help her out.

Giving one another space and time, here and there, goes a long way in cultivating the slow-burning kind of love.

Love that grows stronger in time.

...

Fathering is not something perfect men do, but something that perfects the man. - Frank Pittman

This journey isn't about arriving at perfection, it's about showing up every day. It’s about willing to be shaped by the very person I'm helping to shape.

In loving my daughter, I'm discovering parts of myself I never knew existed: depths of patience I didn't think I possessed, reserves of tenderness that surprise me, and a fierce determination to be better than I was yesterday.

The mystery of life is what keeps things interesting, and fatherhood has revealed just how profound that mystery can be. Two months in, and I'm caught in this beautiful paradox. I feel wiser than I've ever been and humbled by the vast expanse of the unknown.

I'm grateful for this beautiful, terrifying responsibility. Grateful for the imperfect parents who tried their best before me, whose lessons in what to do and what not to do light my path forward. Grateful for the sleepless nights, the witching hours and the tiny milestones, because each one is refining me into the father she deserves.

My little angel didn't just inherit my DNA, she inherited my commitment to breaking cycles. To learning and growing. In return, she's given me the greatest gift: a reason to become the man I've always hoped to be. Not for some distant future, but right here, right now, in these precious, fleeting moments that are already slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

This is the work that perfects the man. And I'm ready for it.