Recently, a dad community shared a list called “Real Advice for New Dads,” and one quote struck me like a lightning bolt. It went something like this: “Not everyone had a great dad, so let’s aim to be the parent we needed when we were kids.”
When my first child arrived, I was a bundle of nerves. I remember cradling my little guy, with his wild, curly hair, and wondering how on earth I’d be the father he deserved, considering my own dad was pretty much a ghost. He vanished when I was young, and by the time I was a teenager, he was more of a passing thought than a presence. This made the idea of having kids a real head-scratcher.
One sleepless night at the hospital, I looked at my newborn son, Jake, and promised myself, “I’m going to be the dad I never had.” That felt empowering, like I was breaking free from a cycle of absence. However, reflecting on that promise makes me question if I was aiming too high or, ironically, too low. What did I even want from a father figure? Sometimes, I just wished for a dad who remembered my birthday or could teach me how to change a tire. Other times, I longed for a father who didn’t have a drinking problem or who would smile when I walked into a room. Sometimes, I just wanted a friend to confide in about life’s ups and downs.
Let’s be real; figuring out what type of dad I wanted was tough. And I know I’m not alone. Many parents today, especially those like me who grew up in the 80s and 90s when family abandonment was becoming more common, face the daunting task of trying to be the parent we wished we had.
I still don’t have a clear picture of what that looks like. Often, when I doubt my parenting skills, I remind myself that at least I’m present. I come home every night, which feels like a win compared to the alternative. But sometimes I go overboard. Just the other night, after a long day at work, I found myself sitting beside Jake, who was lost in a book. I declared my love for him, apologizing for missing out on time together that evening. He looked up with those big brown eyes and said, “Duh, I know you love me. You say it all the time.”
Wait, can you say “I love you” too much? Am I just repeating myself without meaning it? I mean, I don’t know! Maybe every parent has these moments, regardless of how great their own upbringing was. The reality is, when you didn’t have a solid role model, it’s like navigating a ship without a compass.
When Jake rolled his eyes at me, I asked, “Do you know why I tell you I love you so much?” He shrugged. I explained, “Because my dad wasn’t around much, and I understand how important it is for a kid to hear that from their father. I want to make sure you always know I’m here for you.” To my surprise, he didn’t roll his eyes again. Instead, he opened his arms for a hug, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was doing something right.
My own dad’s absence fuels my desire to be a present and engaged father. I don’t want my kids to navigate life without that support. But that very same absence leaves me second-guessing everything I do.
I push forward, seeking advice from my wife and giving all I’ve got to show my kids I want the best for them. It’s a rollercoaster of insecurities, but I hope that one day, I’ll feel more confident about my role as a dad.
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Summary
Being a parent often brings with it insecurities, particularly for those who grew up without a solid example. The journey to provide the love and support we missed out on can be challenging, but it’s essential to keep pushing forward, learning, and growing alongside our children.