Calling all fathers

In three months time I will be a father and I am shitting bricks.

When people find out I’m about to have a daughter they respond with “Congratulations! Oh you must be so excited!”

This puts me in a tricky spot — do I pretend that I am without fears or do I tell the truth and risk seeming insensitive and ungrateful to people who are unable to have children? There is definitely a part of me that is excited but it’s currently drowned out by a cacophony of fears:

How will I know if she is too cold or too hot? How do I function on three hours of sleep for months on end? What if I don’t love her unconditionally? What if I don’t have enough time/alertness/cognitive capacity to build my business sufficiently to provide us with enough money to survive? What if I’ve passed on the gene for Type 1 Diabetes to her? How will I keep her safe in a world of violence, abuse and general misuse of power? What if I misuse my power? What if I’m not up to the task?

I know that these fears, like all fears, are a complete waste of energy. I also know that the content of the fear is often irrelevant and trying to reason with it is futile. The fears are merely a response to stepping into the unknown.

Whenever I start a new job, when I arrive in a foreign country, or when I try out a new hobby there is always a short period of time where I completely freak out. It goes with the territory.

My mind lurches around searching for something certain to grasp onto — something familiar and safe which will keep me distracted from the terror of the gaping unknown.

One of the biggest unknowns in life (second only to death) is birth. The birth of a child is also the birth of a mother and a father. We go into the hospital as independent adults and emerge parents of a tiny helpless human that is entirely dependent on us for its survival. This is a massive transition.

For thousands of years humans have performed ceremonies, rituals and rites of passage to help us move through the discomfort of unknowns associated with big life transitions like birth, adulthood, marriage, and death. Our community would come together to witness and support us through our passage into a new stage of life and maturity. But with the death of god and the separation from our ancestral traditions we have lost these powerful processes.

For the mother the process and pain of birthing a child can be a powerful rite of passage in itself. She can invite other women who have been through the process such as her sisters, mother, friends, a doula or a midwife to witness and support her journey into motherhood. In the lead up to the birth she can hold a baby shower and after the birth she can join a mothers group and share her experience with other new mums. It’s not great but it’s something.

But what is there for men? How do men navigate the passage from adulthood into fatherhood?

Like all things in modern society we are supposed to do it alone. Stoically, bravely, silently, and alone.

Well, fuck that. I don’t have a clue how I am going to get through this but I sure as shit am not doing it alone.

So this is a call to other fathers and fathers-to-be. I want to hear your stories and I want to share mine with you. I want to create rituals that help men become dads. I want to create groups where men can gather to talk about the wild ride of fatherhood. I want to set up mentorships where experienced fathers can support inexperienced fathers. And I don’t want to do this work alone.

If you know of the existence of any of these services, please let me know, and if they don’t exist, let’s create them together.

Bottom line — dads, get in touch and I’ll do my best to reach out to you.

Yours in terrorcitement,

Cam