As baby number two (yes she has been named) coerces a consistent repetition of contractions through Heather’s tired body, I can’t help but think about what the two of us are in for. It’s not that I am underprepared or under excited. I simply feel like I am entering the second leg of an iron man marathon. Please don’t get me wrong when I put an emphasis on the phrase “iron man marathon.” I use the analogy as a marathon enthusiast would use it. With excitement! Heather and I spent a lot of time training for children, if that is even possible. We read the books and listened to the war stories of others. Thankfully, we have lived through sixteen months and three weeks worth of our firstborn and it has been a privilege. I have been told that we are lucky.
I find our next challenge ironic. Let me be candid. I put a high level of importance toward the idea of making sure each of our children feels an equal amount of love. Why do I find this ironic? It seems to me that the firstborn always has the most amount of documented memories. As each new little one comes along, it seems that there are less and less photos and knick-knacks within each respective photo album and time capsule. At the same time, studies show that the first-born feels a sense of abandonment when baby number two slips into the world. Herein lies the challenge. I need to expend equal amounts of love to both children, while at the same time, finding time to balance out a loving relationship with Heather. I think Heather and I wrap so much love around Ivy that at the end of the night, the love machine (take it how you will) within ourselves putters on fumes. This typically leaves the two of us on the couch watching “Family Guy” reruns with slinted eyes and half-hearted foot rubs.
We will have two girls when this thing is said and done. Realistically, we could end up with three girls when we shoot for our third and final. Everyone always tells me that this hand was dealt as a ramification for my past years as a single lad. That scares the hell out of me. The last thing I want is one of my daughters coming home with a guy like me.
Alternative Press magazine did a great bit on several musicians who are parents as well. Dustin Kensrue, of the band Thrice, reminded me, again, of the importance of love shared between a father and his daughter(s). Especially between father and daughters. Kensrue states, “ I put a high priority on making sure they feel loved. I think especially for girls, the way their dad shows them love has a huge and lasting impact on the rest of their lives.” So many studies show that the connection and love between a father and his daughters is critical toward stable emotional development. So if I tell my daughters that they are beautiful, important, and special on a daily basis then I am putting forth the effort required to run this marathon with heart. If I open the car door for my daughters, cook them dinner, and encourage self-satisfaction within any activity they choose to participate in then I am readying the baton for a smooth pass to a suitable suitor. And most importantly, God must stand as the center point over all things we choose to do. Without Him, this path has way too many compassless directions that I am too feeble minded to navigate alone. I prove this to myself and everyone else on a daily basis. Ask Heather. Ask anyone.
Ultimately, I think I put a lot of undue pressure on myself for the final product that the world will receive when my little ones reach the real world. Will they be successes? Will they be average? Will they burden the taxpayer as a life-long welfare recipient? Honestly, I think that I will be happy as a clam if they are happy. I think anyone can succeed within every self-made environment whether it be success or temporary failure. My job as a father is to be supportive and to love my girls unconditionally. All the rest is up to God.
A massive Thank You to my strong, loving wife who puts up with my ridiculousness on a daily basis. I Love You more than you know. The motivation [for greater things] that you stir up within me is immeasurable. Thank You.
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