Slightly Askew

The worst father in the world

Thursday, June 16th, 2011

If yesterday was like sailing the seas in a vessel called wonderment, today was akin to being hit by a speeding train.

I awoke feeling like shit. And after some thought, concluded that my body probably wasn’t built to run on post-birth adrenaline and Wotsits.

(There’s an important lesson here: If you’re planning on being a hero and looking after people, you’ll be no good to anyone unless you look after yourself.)

So feeling like I was nursing my hangover from Zoe’s wedding all over again, I ambled up to the hospital to see my beautiful girls.

Maggie had started feeding properly, so we were given the all clear to head home. Which was brilliant news, but at the time I felt like I could barely look after myself, let alone my young family.

I tried to shake it off, but the headache was so bad it was making me feel sick. I made lunch, and struggled through that. But the time came when I had to admit defeat and say to Caroline that I needed to lie down.

Now, at that point, I honestly felt like a total failure; I was less than 36 hours into fatherhood and pleading with my wife (who’d hardly had a relaxing time of late) for some rest.

I felt like the worst dad in the world.

At this point, you might be pleading with me to get some fucking perspective. Well let me tell you, when Maggie popped her little head out, my entire outlook on life changed. Perspective can only be gained when you understand what’s in front of you.

I have no clue whatsoever what’s on the horizon, and therefore no fucking perspective.

The good news is that my paternity hangover finally passed with a double dosage of paracetamol and Nurofen. I made a spectacularly average spaghetti bolagnese for dinner, and had a relaxing evening with my two favourite girls.

That evening has lasted until 4.15am thus far.

But I’m not complaining.