My wife is pregnant with our first child. On or around December 11, 2018, I will become a father, and I can’t wait. I’ve always wanted to be a dad. Over the years, I’ve put a lot of thought into the kind of parent that I want to be and the qualities that I want to instill in my child. That doesn’t mean I’ll actually be successful, but, well, fingers crossed.
What follows is an idealized vision of parenthood, based on a section from Khalil Gibran’s “The Prophet.” I was completely floored by “The Prophet” when I first read it in college, and I’ve been coming back to it on and off since then. The section on children, specifically the image of the bow (parent) and arrow (child), really stayed with me. The book is the source for all of the following quotes.
This post is here to serve as a record and reference point. I imagine having kids is like going into battle — plans don’t survive contact with the baby. Eventually, I’ll do a look-back post (probably more than one) to compare and contrast my ideal pre-child vision of fatherhood with the messy reality.
Belonging
“And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said,
Speak to us of Children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.”
It is my strong belief that parents do not own their children. Yes, in both the legal and moral sense I will be responsible for them, but the direction of that responsibility flows from me to the child, not vice versa. My child will not belong to me; I will belong to them. In financial terms, I will be their asset, and as my child grows, I will do my best to imprint that fact on them.
Acceptance
“You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.”
I have a million ideas and dreams about how I want to raise my child and the kind of person I want them to become. I want them to be a book lover; to have an open and curious mind; to learn how to relate with the world in a physical sense (labor, sports, physical exertion); and so on.
But I have to accept they might choose a different path, and I will be responsible for finding new ways to relate to and connect with my kid if, for example, they turn out to hate books. My child simply might not hold the same beliefs and attitudes I do, and that’s OK. It’s the same between me and my parents, and when I was younger I wanted them to accept my independence. It should be no different between me and my child.
Teaching
“You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”
This is a powerful image, one lodged firmly in my mind the first time I read “The Prophet.” My job as a parent: Give my child the skills, knowledge, and opportunities to succeed. They may not choose to use the tools, or I might turn out to be terrible at transferring my knowledge. It’s up to me to adapt to my kid’s needs and learning style.
There is also a tension among the ideals here — teaching, raising, and developing, without falling into the trap of laying claim. This is the tension between every parent and child, and it’s why I found the bow and arrow metaphor so powerful — it captures and communicates that tension in a positive way.
Santa Monica
Pure Panic
Fun little side story: I never used to be been afraid of flying. A few years ago, turbulence on a flight to Dallas from Chicago was so bad that people were hitting the ceiling of the cabin. I thought it was great fun. But that started to change when I got engaged, and I began to feel nervous or tense whenever there was turbulence on a flight. It grew a little worse once we were married, and it blossomed into legitimate fear when we found out that my wife was pregnant.
It’s been interesting to see the progression in my fear and how clearly tied it is to changes in my personal life. I’ll never stop flying — it’s required for my job, but more importantly I enjoy traveling too much. A love of traveling is something I hope to give to my child. But they’re already giving me heart attacks, and they’re not even born yet.