On not marginalizing fatherhood

            I must start this post with my sincere hope that no woman who has suffered infertility feel offense.  I know the tiniest bit about what that pain might feel like.  I lost my first baby 12 weeks into a much welcomed and celebrated pregnancy.  In the 18 months of failed attempts that followed that loss I had a brief taste of what living by cycles did to the psyche – two weeks of hope followed by two weeks of despair…  over and over again.  Then I felt the fear and insecurity the 9 more months that I waited to actually hold Avery in my arms.  Three little girls later much of that pain has been replaced with the acceptance that any other timeline would have meant three different humans, and I love desperately the ones I have.  Ultimately, those months were moments compared to what many face, and I would never want the thoughts I share to diminish the reality of that hurt. 

            But… taking the plunge anyway…

.           This past Mother’s Day I noticed a plethora of links and status updates asking that we remember the women filled with pain on Mother’s Day who had never experienced the gift of a child.  When I read the first few I was moved.  The point was initially well taken.  But as the sentiment became viral I found myself frustrated.  I wondered if motherhood was so characterized by guilt that we had to admonish ourselves for accepting any gratitude in light of someone else’s potential pain.  I remember real bitterness over the ease at which some became mothers in surprise day to day moments, but I don’t remember feeling that bitterness on Mother’s Day.  I was too filled with joy and respect for the woman in my life such as my own mother, wonderful grandmothers and generous aunts.  I was inclined towards celebration on those days.  I considered asking this past Mother’s Day if anyone else had similar thoughts about our own unwillingness to take the spotlight for a moment.  I am genuinely sad for anyone who wants to be a parent and can’t, but I hoped that hyperfocus on woman without children this year did not prevent any mother from giving herself her day last May.

            I was reminded of this analysis when I scrolled through facebook today.  I saw tribute after tribute to husbands and dads that made a difference, but no reminders to dads to celebrate cautiously today as all over the world there were men who ached because they could not be fathers.  Come to think of it, I have never heard one conversation about men who worried that they might ultimately lead childless lives despite their lasting desire to father children.  I do not believe it is because this ache is not there.  I know men young and old who wanted kids but for a variety of reasons didn’t (or haven’t) seen that dream come to fruition.  I think it is just one of the many ways that we marginalize fatherhood. 

            I have a wonderful father.  He catches people’s attention because he is so willing to share his emotions.  Jason recently joked that some men go their whole lives waiting to see their father cry while we rarely have to go 24 hours.  Though his job took him away from us much of the work week, I remember him getting up with me at night to clean up puke and comfort me back to sleep.  I remember him taking us to parks every Sunday and writing us stories to tell us as we fell asleep each night. 

            I have an equally wonderful husband.  He adopts a true co-parenting model.  He hates when females say they have to see if their husband can baby-sit so they can grab drinks with the girls.  He says things like, “do they mean can their husband parent on Friday night?”  He fixes the girls hair like it’s his job.  He fills plates at family barbecues.  He has combed lice out of hair and painted nails.  We both remain surprised by the attention he draws from others as he completes the mundane jobs of parenthood.  I told him once that I shouldn’t feel this way, but I often perceive all the attention he gets from females as hidden insults to me.  Do I look like I am shirking my parenting responsibilities?  I was comforted that he also felt some offense.  He wonders why it should impress people that he 50/50 parents our children.  He wondered why he gets compliments for things mothers do unnoticed on a daily basis.  He explains that he takes joy in these acts, and would feel denied if he didn’t have the opportunity to attempt to be as much of an influence in our girls’ lives as I try to be.  They are lucky to have him, and he is lucky to have them.            

            I think we don’t always expect enough of fathers.  In turn, we disempower them and disrespect them.  Sephus gets so frustrated at the sitcom portrayals of fathers and the Papa Bear narrative found in so many short stories.  Dads are great for playing airplane with or making you chuckle, but in the end they just don’t really matter as much as moms and aren’t nearly as capable.  I know many people will initially disagree with this idea.  That’s good.  It means your experience is not coherent with the dominant messages about fatherhood present in the media.  It means that we should expect fatherhood to be celebrated so much that if we regret wishful woman without children on Mother’s Day, we must also lament wishful fathers without children.  Knowing that unique situations lead to wonderful upbringings without one parent or the other, we must still not sell either parent short.  We need to bring fatherhood out of the margin.  Dads have too much to give to be perceived as sideline parents.