I speak a lot about my moments with Roman and how becoming a mum had changed my life but there is something about a fathers bond that is undeniable. When I see the look between my son and my partner, it’s pure and priceless.
My partner became a dad the day he held Roman in his arms. I watched the speech disappear from his mouth, his eyes well up and his grasp get a little tighter. It was love, love at first sight. There was this tiny human that was now half him. He didn’t have to endure 9 months of hormones or weird symptoms; he wasn’t exhausted by 9 AM. his feet didn’t swell, nor did he get woken in the middle of the night by a train of endless hiccups going on inside his stomach and he certainly didn’t have to experience the awful pain of contractions that leave you unable to talk, but that doesn’t mean fathers don’t have to go through a whirlwind of emotions.
Fathers don’t get to experience that instant bond or connections when you’re carrying you’re child. They don’t get to feel that butterfly sensation as you feel that tiny kick for the first time. They don’t understand the constant worry or fear we feel while growing our little ones, they have to become our rocks. They have to stand there helpless, watching their loved one’s crying out in pain knowing there is nothing they can do apart from hold our hand through to the next chapter.
When I ask my partner his experience of child birth and how he felt the first time meeting our son. He explained he felt numb. We had quite a traumatic experience before and after child birth, he felt frozen. He watched me struggle with high blood pressure and palpitations along with our son whose heart rate was decreasing through every contraction, after our son was delivered, I caught an infection that was causing me to have a temperature that was now rocketing sky high and a heart rate of 190bpm while I lay there trying to process it all. Unfortunately my partner wasn’t able to do the same, he had to leave me to go the NICU with Roman and watch this little boy who’s wasn’t even a day old, be poked and prodded with needles and tubes. He watched his 5lb tiny baby be placed into an incubator and get fed by a tube. I wasn’t aware of his emotions but he felt terrified.
My partner never really thought we would get this far, in fact he never really thought we would be able to have children. With me having PCOS and him being a type 2 diabetic, the chances weren’t very high. Once my other half got his diabetes under control and I was trying to control my PCOS better, luck would have it; we conceived. (I do believe that once my partner controlled his diabetes, it really helped with us falling pregnant as he was undiagnosed for a while.)
Suddenly he has had to face a new challenge; he become a dad for the first time. I still remember the first time my partner had to change Roman into his new baby grows. I could see the nerves shaking through his hands; he was so delicate with him. So worried he might break him, inexperienced of this little human, but it wasn’t long before he learnt the role of fatherhood. He has exceeded fatherhood.
You only need to see the smile between both of them to know he’s doing a great job. Roman leans on both of us for love and support. He may cry for his mum at bed time but in the middle of the night he wants his dad. (When its 3 o’clock in the morning, I really don’t mind. HONESTLY I do not mind.)
He has taken the role hands on, with changing nappy after dirty nappy, danced to the jungle book theme tune and has learned all the words to Blaze and the Monster machine theme tune (Not sure who prefers it more) He refuses to believe Roman does anything wrong, and turns up with yet another toy for Roman, but would you want a dad any other way? Of course not, I feel fortunate that Roman has a supportive father and Roman has both parents in his upbringing.
If you’re a father that stands by his children, Showing them everything you can offer, with love and support through the good times and the bad. Thank you. You are more than just a father you are a ‘Dad’.
Thank you for reading