I’ve always been conscious about writing/saying too much about parenting despite having been in this gig for a while. Multiple reasons I suppose – being one of the first in your circle to be a parent makes you a bit conscious. Plus I have always felt there is a bit too much posturing around the ‘special’ness of parenting coming form fathers (mothers – yes totally, fathering I still maintain you need to grow into – to be elaborated upon further). Also I do notice when I do meet a fellow parent then it very easily turns into a session where everyone is somehow competing to exchange best-practices. So I try to be bhai rehne de and focus the gyaan-baazi for cricket.
“I love my kid with all my heart, but I think I hate parenting“. I said this to Mr. GDB once a few years ago (so young, so naive) in a line which he still finds memorable and which I probably read somewhere TBH. A few years later I think the sentiment is evolving and I would definitely say ‘hate’ is a strong word – there are many truly enjoyable, magical moments about parenting which only develop as the offspring in question becomes a more and more sentient human being. But on the whole? It is difficult and definitely not for everyone.
See with babies (small ones especially) parenting is very operational – if one may use a term from corporate life – for a father. You do feel immensely protective and a sense of responsibility like nothing else but the bond of ‘closeness’ if not lauu which comes from hormones and being physically connected that a mother has over 9 months and the many months of nursing which follow is not really there (yes I know about PPD and many mothers who struggle to feel this too). But as a Father – you can contribute, help, support, enable (pick your verb of choice, working on all these BDs will pay off only here na) in any way that you can but it is all auxiliary roles early on. You can not replace (or even fill-in for) Mamma for many months (years?) unless there are some drastic requirements. Which is not to compare or complain – mothers go through stuff which is immensely more difficult and deal with internal and external changes in a way that fathers can’t probably comprehend – but to say the true joy of parenting will come over time for a father in a way different from mothers, which needs to be acknowledged instead of the subtle societal expectations one internalizes (or is expected to) at the start of the journey.
In any case, there is much truly pure emotion to be experienced on a variety of occasions over time. A sense of achievement when a wailing baby falls asleep on your shoulder as you put him sleep (actually being able to put a kid of any age below 5 to sleep is a great accomplishment however often you do it). Protectiveness in the way a toddler wraps his legs around your lower back and puts his head on your shoulders as you hoist him up for the scheduled bathroom-run in the middle of the night. The way they run to you howling out of the school gate. The absolute satisfaction of passing down your interests and delights to a pre-schooler and seeing him reciprocate that interest – uff can’t even put that one in words.
But also for beings so small (smol these days) – there is a different emotion altogether when a kid ‘chooses’ you, there is a certain purity in their choices (which is not the same as rationality, I always feel bad when babies howl after seeing well-meaning strangers who come to greet them). And yes of course, fathers and mothers should not compete but show me a father (in a conventional family set up) who does not secretly feel proud when their baby chooses their presence for an activity or event over their mother (or grandmother or other female caregivers) and I will probably show you someone who is not entirely being honest to themselves. I pride myself on being a reasonably hands-on father (not quite entirely there yet, but I am doing bits of dance class too when needed so it’s a journey) but a mother is a mother and that bond is unique (trying not to be Hallmark-ish here), and even later with an older kid, you can fill-in but never replace.
Wow this is a really bad ramble (I have edited the title of this post to reflect this) but anyhooo, since K’s mamma is super busy with multiple academic commitments (damn I miss college life but am I glad I don’t have to do this shit anymore), I did a solo doctors trip yesterday for a minor but recurrent gastric issue and a vaccination. This I have done previously as well when younger but what with a global pandemic they are not as frequent as perhaps they would have been under normal circumstances.
It was a reasonably uneventful trip as far as journeys with kids go. We came and went by rickshaw (I’m aware my batchmates cringe here), the need to pee was felt less than halfway through, an attempt to hold was made which was partially successful but partially leaving a bit of a stain on trousers and shirt, wet undies and all were proffered on the doctors table, a second run had to be made when our chatty doctor was getting into his elements, two injections were had on the thighs without a drop of water welling up (in his eyes, not sure about mine – the pride parents take in the weirdest of things!), then a trip to an ATM, then a trip to the pharmacy, a biscuit chocolate bar bought to stave of hunger, non-stop questions on the ride to, much mellowed on the ride back, limping back home as the numbness in the leg went up. Yes, pretty normal trip. But what stuck for me (and inspired me to note this down) was how at how completely at home we both were in our roles – my hand around him in the rickshaw, helping a toddler in the loo, the conversations, the discussion with the doctor, the walk…the ability to have proper conversations without needing anyone else.
I am sure this is not a big deal at all and as a father I have almost definitely dealt with more complicated situations already in this role (spending the whole day at home is for e.g. far tougher than a couple of hours outside where you don’t have to keep thinking of ‘what to do now’!). My spouse will say this is my insecurity (deep rooted) that I still feel the need to feel this, but whatever I am aware of those. It was an unmagical evening which made me feel at peace, which for once made me realize that we have graduated to a stage where just like the mother (if not as indispensable), the father’s role is also one which can’t be ‘replaced’. And that’s a feeling which as a lifetime imposter syndrome sufferer, is a very nice one to take with you tonight.
Yada Yada Yada 