What They Don't Tell You About Being A Dad

by Andy Shaw
Originally Published: 
A close-up of a baby's hand holding his dad's finger

Let me tell you all a little story about something people don’t tell you about becoming a father.

I’ll start by saying some of the things they do tell you about adding a baby to the mix:

– Taking care of a baby is overwhelming and you’ll be dusted in baby powder all day while getting peed on.

– You will have to make all new priorities. See ya later, friends; Goodbye, rec league. So long, movies with nudity, unless it’s really tasteful like Titanic or something.

– You are about to take a back seat on everything. Your needs don’t matter.

– You can be a “cool dad” who takes your kid to the park or who gets your nails painted with your daughter and it’s nothing but laughs and good times.

– You won’t have sex ever again.

All of these are various degrees of b.s. I hope you know that by now. You may be overwhelmed temporarily, but you’ll get into a routine. You’ll adjust your priorities, but if you plan correctly, you can still find time to see friends or be in a league or watch Entourage. Your needs still matter (it’s just a matter of being patient about when they can be addressed). You won’t care about being a cool dad as much as you care about making your kid happy, and you’ll also realize that the photos you see of cool dads don’t show that 30 seconds after it was taken, that kid had a meltdown. You will get to see your wife naked again without a breast pump involved.

Here’s something I was reminded of recently, though, that matters more than any of that stuff, and it’s what makes being a father such an entirely unique experience that you truly can’t get it until you’ve done it. Please feel me, here: it doesn’t mean if you’re not a dad, you’re not a man. That’s some 15th century garbage. You don’t need to sire a child to have a fulfilling life. The hell if I have ever tried to sire anything, actually.

What I mean is that there’s something about fatherhood that you might not have really thought about as you entered into it, something that is at the core of everything you’ll be doing from here on out, and yet it’s rare to hear guys talk about it.


My twin girls were born in April, making me a father of three kids ages 2 and under.

The thing is, those girls were supposed to be born this past weekend in June, due date wise. That led to 6 weeks in the NICU as they gradually gained weight and needed less and less support. Hannah came home first; then, a week later, Quinn was released, marking the first time all three kids were under one roof. Such a relief. The NICU—a topic for another day—is such an intense experience, and we were so glad to be home.

A week and a half later, my wife and I were just about to get ready to go to bed when we realized Quinn was looking extremely pale and lethargic.

Within an hour, she was getting CPR after having stopped breathing in the emergency room.

Within a few hours, she had been intubated and was nestled into a special box for preemie babies, and then flown away in a helicopter to a top children’s hospital.

We found out she had pneumonia and a cold, a potentially fatal combination in a six-pound baby and also something that, essentially, just kind of happens. Hannah had the same cold, and she was fine.

My wife and I spent hour after hour beside Quinn’s bed, her tiny body barely a bump in the child-size bed that had more than a dozen wires and tubes flowing over the side.

Here’s what I learned (again):

That when you see a tear roll down your baby’s cheek as she’s being intubated; when you hear her silently cry as the tube muffles her voice; when she’s lonely in the bed and no one can hold her and there’s no way to explain why; when you are grappling with a life-or-death situation with a child you have held in your arms for less total time in her life than you’ve held your phone in the past day … that’s when you feel it in your bones that being a dad is so much more than a title or a Facebook status update or a conversation topic. It’s not something guys talk about much, and yet it’s the very best part of being a dad.

You have a new purpose in life that is flat out better than any you’ve had before.


You’ll discover that, without thinking of it, the mental hold-ups you might have had about giving up this or changing that aren’t that big of a deal, because you’d rather do something for your child than anything else in the world.

You don’t even need a life-threatening event—and hopefully you never experience it regardless—to feel that. It might be when your daughter first smiles at you, or when your son reaches for your hand because he’s scared. It might be after an exhausting day when you get home and your baby has been crying nonstop but then suddenly, for no reason, passes out on your chest. But I do hope you let that feeling sink in and appreciate it for what it is:


Father’s Day is coming up June 21. Wherever you are on the path of fatherhood, I hope you take a moment that day—and every day—to feel it in your bones: you are a dad, and that’s pretty incredible.

Oh, and my daughter? After a week-plus, she’s back home. All three kids, under one roof. Happy Father’s Day to me.

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