"It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons.” — Johann Friedrich von Schiller
At 10:15am on June 10, 2023, I started my journey into fatherhood.
This was new territory for me, to say the least. Up until that point, I had very limited experience with babies and zero experience with a newborn. But oddly enough, I wasn’t nervous.
I’ve always liked little kids. They are human power banks of pure joy that never fail to brighten your day.
While I had changed a diaper or two, it was nothing compared to what a full-time dad signs up for. Yet, I signed up on that day.
Sitting in the recovery room of the hospital’s maternity wing, I was one of the first four people to meet the new baby boy. I was there with his sister, aunt, and cousin before we were joined by his grandmother.
He weighed eight pounds, one ounce, and seemed so tiny to me. Holding him made me nervous.
He has a formal name, the one his mother’s late father carried. It’s a great name, but sometime during the pregnancy, he acquired a few nicknames. When he grew to the size of a cabbage and kept kicking, he was referred to as the Kung Fu Cabbage. He even has a onesie with that printed on the front.
The other name he got—either from his mother, his 6-year-old sister, or perhaps both of them—was Chubba Bubba, another nod to his size during the pregnancy.
Chubba Bubba is what I call him about 85 percent of the time. The rest of the time it’s either Little Man or his given name.
"The heart of a father is the masterpiece of nature.” — Antoine François Prévost
With no experience whatsoever, I somehow managed to understand rather quickly the main requirements of being a dad. I made breakfast in bed for Mom. I picked up diapers and formula so we were never out of either. And most importantly I learned to get over my fear of carrying such a tiny human.
And carry him I did.
Because I had the luxury of working from home, whenever the baby would wake up in the middle of the night hungry, or crying because he was going through a growth spurt, I got up to take care of him. That let Mom sleep through the night so she wouldn’t be exhausted when she drove to work in the morning.
Those late nights ended up being the very best moments. I would walk back and forth through the house gently bouncing the baby in my arms while singing one of the three songs/nursery rhymes I could remember. I also sang to him the alphabet, because my repertoire was lacking.
Getting him to fall back asleep was a major accomplishment, one I wasn’t too shy to brag to his mother about. I told her I was the Baby Whisperer, and since she got to sleep through the night, she really couldn’t argue with me.
At some point early on when I took on the role of late-night/early-morning babysitter, I started talking to him, even when he fell asleep. I told him he’s beautiful—and he sure is and I’ll fight anybody that says otherwise—and that he’s amazing.
But most of all, I told him, “I love you.” Even though he couldn’t possibly understand the words I was saying, especially when sleeping, I had faith that those words got through to him. That they showered him with warmth, and protected him like a verbal force field of fatherly love.
I tell him I love him every day, and nothing will ever compare to when he started saying it back to me. When he’s a good bit older, I’ll tell him about the late night moments so he knows that there was never, ever a time when he wasn’t profoundly loved and adored.
"A good father is one of the most unsung, unpraised, unnoticed, and yet one of the most valuable assets in our society.” — Billy Graham
Tomorrow is Father’s Day. It’s the official holiday of "you don’t know what to get me, and I don’t need anything." I never knew what to get my dad, and whatever my mom bought for me to give to him wasn’t anything memorable.
I used to think that was a problem, not getting dad something he really wanted. But since Chubba Bubba came into my life I’ve learned the truth about Father’s Day.
No present will ever compare to hearing my 3-year-old call out "Daddy" early in the morning when he wakes up.
The name—that title of Daddy—is the real gift. Along with that big smile across his face and in his eyes when he says it makes it an immeasurable gift. A gift I get every single day.
I don’t need a present, some handmade piece of pottery, or his finest crayon artwork. I get why Mom says it’s important for the kids to give presents on Father’s Day. And no matter what I get, I will let them know I love it and them for giving it to me.
It won’t be until he’s much older, and has kids of his own, that he will understand that Father’s Day is actually an everyday event of smiles, giggles, hugs, and kisses.
And hopefully, that will be something he learns from his father.
– Paul Erhardt, Managing Editor, the Outdoor Wire Digital Network, and Daddy