I was recently asked to write a post for first-time dads, and as neither a dad nor a first timer, I felt unqualified. So I asked my male friends for their advice (that article to follow soon on the Mamadoo blog) and one response was so funny and heartfelt I asked if he wanted to write a guest post for Relentless.
Failure IS an Option: by Glenn Dungate
I
can remember clearly the emotion and excitement that I felt as I walked
through the sliding glass automatic doors of the hospital the day after
Maisie was born. I had gone home the night previous and fallen asleep
strangely free of burden and worry and, instead, filled with pride in
the strength of my wife and elation for our “bundle of joy”. The need to
clean the living hell out of our townhouse and watch as much Foxtel as
possible was also strangely thrown into the mix.
I
have never felt peace and excitement like I did in those first few
days. Overjoyed that I had a daughter. Overwhelmed that I had seen
things happening between my wife’s legs that I was sure would scar me
for the rest of my life and euphoric that two was now three. A family.
My family. Our family.
Then
she came home. Free from the support of Midwives and Doctors, Maisie
was now alone with us. I laid her down on a play mat and stared at her.
What was going to happen now ? How was “it” going to happen and what was
“it” exactly ?
For me “it” was the fear of failure.
I
failed at three months after I dropped her on her head onto the tiled
kitchen floor. This happened on the first day that my wife had left me
alone with her. I was in tears and a major panic as I called my wife,
crying down the phone that a lump was appearing on her head. Cradling
her as her cries subsided we hopped into my bed and I tried to comfort
her. She started falling asleep. I panicked again. Sleep after head
trauma equals concussion. I tried to keep her awake, she didn’t like
that. Maybe because it was her nap time and her dad was red eyed and
bouncing her up and down singing “Wakey wakey Maisie” over and over and
over again.
I
failed when she was a toddler and I grabbed her arm in anger. She
wasn’t listening, it was bath time and she had better things to do. She
was in a typical Maisie mood. I
grabbed her right arm as I leaned down to try and reason through
clenched teeth and she immediately burst into tears saying “You hurt my
arm”. I was heartbroken. I have always felt that hitting a child in
punishment is beyond wrong. The thought that inflicting pain in the
belief that it will create reason and understanding is brain dead and
pathetic. Anyone with intelligence knows that there are times that you
cannot reason with them. There are times that you cannot make them
understand. There are times that you have to think happy thoughts and
take deep yoga like breathes.
This was one of those times. And yet, I had just hurt her in my
attempts to reason with her. More tears from me and a major apology
followed.
Then
my wife became pregnant. Euphoria soon turned to unbearable sadness
when at 12 weeks we had to terminate the pregnancy. The pride in the
mental and physical strength of my wife that I had felt with the birth
of our first child returned, though in completely different
circumstances. I wanted to take all her pain. I wanted to hold her and
not let go. Even though it was nature and even though there was nothing
we could have done……. I felt I had uncontrollably failed.
In the months and years that have followed I have experienced the Jane Austin-like highs of love, pride and awe along with the Shakespearean-like battles of sadness, fear, anger and rage that only a child with the combined DNA of two crazies like us can produce.
Despite
my fears I have succeeded many more times than I have either truly or
falsely failed. Maisie is now 5 and the “it” has become the realisation
that parenting is a glorious burden. Embrace it and every piece of
luggage that goes with it. If you are true to yourself and more
importantly to the human in your care, you can’t fail.
Glenn Dungate
Oh that is heartfelt.. It made me cry.. Thanks for sharing!
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