Expecting To Be A Dad? Think Like Rocky Balboa!

As Christmas time rolled around last year, I was fishing through a bin of our old decorations and found the Elf on the Shelf that had always delighted my kids but tortured me every December.

I pondered if this creepy elf (Calvin) was even necessary anymore, as my kids no longer believed in Santa Clause.

A twinge of guilt pinched me because I wanted to rid myself of Calvin’s torment. I dreamed of no longer hearing my wife’s heinous words just as I was about to fall asleep, “Hun, did you remember to move Calvin?”

Suddenly an unexplainable sadness washed over me as I realized how quickly my kids were growing up.

However, I smiled at the thought of my favorite old photo when my daughter picked out her first Christmas tree. She was two at the time and looked adorable in her fluffy pink hat and too long elegant jacket that came right down to a pair of Minnie Mouse boots.

In the ultimate act of synchronicity, an hour later my wife texted me the exact photo of my daughter that I was trying to recall. 

I replied to my wife, “Where has the time gone?”, but it was bittersweet to think about how far I had come as a father since the day that photo was taken.

Sure, by the time my daughter was two, I had become a more confident father than the guy who had no clue how to even go about grocery shopping with a newborn in tow, but my experiences in fatherhood were still quite raw.

By then I had nailed down the basics of being a dad and had proven that I could not only keep another human being alive but help her thrive as well. I was well on my way to becoming the dad I had always hoped to be, but little did I know at the time I had not yet overcome my greatest challenge.

By the time my son was born, I was now passing my daddy tests with flying colors, give or take a few bad marks. That all changed when my son was diagnosed with being on the autism spectrum at four.

This was my big reality check as a father, and my world started to collapse all around me.

The sleepless nights, the endless pain in my stomach, wishing I could run away from fatherhood…

Maybe I wasn’t a good father after all. Maybe I was nothing more than a coward. My thoughts were relentlessly cruel.

Why Fatherhood Is All About The Long Fight!

I had already been here before when I gutted through my mother’s death, but this felt different…

Six months after my daughter (our first) was born, my mother was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer.

Watching my mother die in a hospice as we tried in vain to celebrate my daughter’s first birthday, was excruciating. The rock of support who had been there all my life would pass three days later.

I was forced to grow up fast as a new father and find my own way without my mother’s guidance.

I foolishly believed at the time that having to go on without my mother would be an unparalleled test I had to endure as a new father. However, I was naïve and without the wisdom of an experienced dad.

When my son was diagnosed with autism, that well of strength I tapped into after my mother’s death, was all dried up. Instead of finding courage, all I found was cowardice and shame.

I wasn’t rising to the occasion; I was bathing in self-pity and wondering how this could happen to me – because ‘me’ was all I was thinking about in the beginning.

The sleepless nights, the endless pain in my stomach, wishing I could run away from fatherhood…

Shortly before my mother died, she told me in challenging times I just had to focus on getting through one minute, and then the next. In her infinite wisdom, she knew how I would struggle with her passing, and she wanted me to know it was ok to grieve, but I had to be there for my daughter.

That advice served me well in the months after I lost my mom and kept me laser focused on caring for my daughter. Unfortunately, with my son’s diagnosis, my mother’s words couldn’t inspire me to fight back.

I was too devastated. Too lost in my own despair.

Believe it or not, I found my courage because of Rocky.

Yeah, Rocky Balboa!

A few months after my son’s diagnosis, I was spending yet another sleepless night on the couch mindlessly watching a Rocky movie, when he gave a speech to his son about never giving up.

He told him, “The world can be a mean and nasty place, and it don’t matter how tough you are, it will knock you down on your knees. But it ain’t about how hard you can hit, it’s about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much you can take and push forward!”

I can’t quite explain to you why those words helped me find myself again, maybe it was because I was delirious with insomnia worrying about my son, or perhaps I was tired of feeling like a coward and shitty father.

That beautiful punch-drunk lug was right though, life had knocked me down more times than I cared to remember, and I had always fought back. I was a father now and I didn’t have a choice to sit this one out and keep wishing things would change.

I had to pick myself up, push forward and accept my son’s diagnosis.

No more running away from my reality.

Sometimes as a father, you must draw your strength from unassuming places, even the movies if it works for you.

I’m going to let you in on a secret though, I sometimes feel shame when friends and family tell me what a great dad I am, and they marvel how I managed to get through such difficult times as a father. I’ve even had joking comments about being a ‘superdad’, which always made me roll my eyes. 

They don’t know the truth about me, you see. I was afraid, many times, but worst of all, I almost gave up on my son.

But that’s the rub of it. Superdads don’t exist. Don’t fool yourself into believing otherwise, trying to become the ideal father who is simply a myth.

All good dads are just like me, trying to do the best we can and finding the strength to push forward when we need it the most. Hopefully each year we get wiser with more experience, but we will never be perfect. 

Superdads, are for the movies – like Rocky!