I never wanted to have children. The mere thought of procreating scared the shit out of me. I was scared that I’d never have enough money or time to do it right. I was also scared that I’d lose my edge – that I’d have to give up being an artist and move to the suburbs. Most of all, I was scared that I would ruin my child’s life by inadvertently doing all the fucked-up shit that my parents did to me. And then a little over a year ago, my worst fear came true: My wife told me she was 10 weeks pregnant. Given that she was on the pill and I truly believed (or maybe just hoped) that I was sterile, this came as something of a shock. After our son was born, I was in for an even bigger shock: that I would absolutely love being a parent. It is without a doubt the single best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Like all first-time parents, I’m learning as I go along. Here are six things I’ve learned in my first six months of being a dad.
1. WE NEED WHAT WE NEED WHEN WE NEED IT.
When my son is hungry, he needs to eat. When he’s tired, he needs to sleep. The same goes for all of us, even though many of us learn to put our needs on the back burner as we grow up. Babies have no barriers around deserving what they need. And in a very healthy way, they feel perfectly entitled to receive whatever that may be. Best of all, they’ll let you know exactly when their needs are not being met – usually by screaming or crying. Another thing: Without the love and support of their parents or guardians, most babies would die pretty quickly. This makes them a perfect example of the fact that human beings need each other. We literally cannot survive without the help of other people.
2. BEING PRESENT IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN BEING PERFECT.
As I mentioned already, one of my major reasons for never wanting to have children was my fear that I’d fuck up my kids by repeating the mistakes that my parents made with me. But as soon as I became a dad, I realized that I would never – and could never – be a perfect parent. I also realized that my infant son could care less whether or not I was perfect. All he needed was for me to be present. Fortunately, that’s something I can totally do. I can feed him when he’s hungry, change his diaper when it’s dirty, and comfort him when he cries. You don’t need a PhD or even a driver’s license in order to be in the moment with your child.
3. WE ARE POWERLESS OVER OTHER PEOPLE.
Want a lesson in powerlessness? Try having a baby. As soon as I change my son’s diaper, he’ll fill it up and need a new one. As soon as I change his outfit, he’ll spit up all over it and need a new one.
4. WE ARE ALL INHERENTLY LOVABLE AND VALUABLE.
As soon as my son’s head popped out of my wife’s vagina like the screeching infant xenomorph popping out of John Hurt’s chest in Alien, I fell hopelessly in love with him. It wasn’t like he’d done anything to earn my love – on the contrary, he hadn’t done a thing other than gestate and allow himself to be born. But there I was, falling in love with him at first sight. The soul inside of this little red writhing body was worthy of love simply for being who he was. I realized in that instant that we are all born this way: inherently valuable, deserving and lovable. At our core, there is nothing wrong with any of us.
5. IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO START YOUR DAY OVER AGAIN.
My son can be having the best day ever – smiling, giggling, nursing beautifully – and then HOLY FUCKING SHIT! It all falls apart in a whirlwind of screaming, crying, projectile vomiting and exploding diapers. What I thought was a perfect day turns into a perfect nightmare. And right when I’m about to start cursing myself for agreeing to have this baby, everything changes. His scrunched-up, tear-stained little face relaxes, and suddenly he’s grinning and cooing like Gizmo in that scene from Gremlins when he’s singing to Billy. He lets me change his diaper, relaxes in my arms, and sucks down a full five ounces of breastmilk from the bottle I give him. And just like that, both of us can start our day over again.
6. BEING OF SERVICE IS OUR REASON FOR BEING.
For way too long, I felt like the meaning of life was to become rich and famous – and to fuck as many hot girls as possible before I kicked the bucket. Fortunately, that outlook started to shift for me several years ago. But it wasn’t until I became a father that I realized what my true raison d’être was: to be of service. To date, I have experienced no satisfaction greater than caring for my son. I know how fucking trite this must sound, but it’s true: Changing his diaper or giving him a bath is infinitely more fulfilling than getting rimmed by someone with perfect facial structure and a long tongue.