the essence of fatherhood…

essence of fatherhood

“I love you son.”

“I am so proud of you.”

“I know it hurts baby. Keep fighting.”

It’s 2am and my baby boy is really struggling. Struggling to breathe. His cold has taken control of his little body at the worst time and has filled his throat, his nose and his mouth with mucus and he cannot get rid of it. No matter how much he sneezes, no matter how much he swallows, no matter how much he coughs, it won’t go away. And when he coughs, it hurts…badly. We all know that cough you get when you have a bad cold and how much it burns in your chest when you cough? That’s what he is fighting, but he is only four months old and does not know any better. My wife desperately suctions out his nose and his mouth, trying to help our boy. She is so tired she is shaking. I am so tired that I have that headache that seems to go from your ears to your eyes and makes you head feel heavy. But neither of us care right now.

“I know it hurts Timmy. Keep fighting.”

“I know it hurts Timothy. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“I know it hurts my son. I would do anything to take this from you.”

And there it is….the essence of fatherhood. I can provide my son with the best clothes, the best food, the best house and other things, but at that moment, it is worthless. At that moment, it all is meaningless except for my baby boy and my desperation to love him and care for him. For many of us men, our wives have that instinct that knows exactly what to do to help our children. They know whether to suction, or spray, or wipe, or feed, or comfort. But many of us do not have that instinct and when something arises against our precious offspring, we do not know what to do. All I know is that I want to protect him from hurt, from pain and from this cold that is haunting him. I would do anything. I would GLADLY take this trial from him, take his pain and put them on myself. In a heartbeat.

I lean my head into his head, touching our foreheads. Tears run down my eyes as I hear him struggle. My heart rips out of my chest as he screams after each cough, or after my wife suctions out his nose, irritating an already inflamed passage. She is helping him breathe. She is helping him in a way that I would fumble at. But at that moment, I am doing what I can too.

“I know it hurts baby. Keep fighting.”

“I am right here. I will always be right here.”

(This post was originally posted on the Dad Matters blog page)

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~ by kuiperactive on August 12, 2014.

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