Recently I was asked what keeps me awake at night. This question was posed to me in a group setting. Although the atmosphere was jovial, the question was anything but. As I listened to various people answer I noticed that some people fluffed off the question, while others spoke about themselves, but not one of the respondents shared anything earth shattering to society.
When it was my turn to answer, I spoke about the anxiety that my wife and I feel regarding our children – specifically, how do we raise our kids to go out in the world while at the same time, protecting them from it?
To obtain a driver’s license, one must pass three tests: an eye exam, a written test, and a road test. To have a child, there is no test, only biology. When my boys were born, Vanessa and I, like most parents, began to see life differently. You are no longer on the earth for yourself. YOU are responsible for the well-being of another human being. How can that thought NOT keep me up at night?
My friend’s kids are all older than mine, and one by one, all of them told me that new parents have an “Oh shit” moment at some point after the birth of their child. Perhaps it is driving home from the hospital with the infant in the car seat, or the first time the kid cries hard at home…etc.
My moment didn’t come until my first son was three weeks old. He had a check up at the pediatrician. In the waiting room, my wife was holding him and I was filling out the paperwork. I got to the line that read: “Relationship to patient.” There came my Oh SHIT moment. I froze for a second and wrote: ‘FATHER‘. Son of a bitch, that’s me. I’m someone’s dad. How can that be?
As I type this, 12 years have passed and I now have 2 wonderful sons. I can confirm that the Oh SHIT moment happens again: with my second son, it was when he was an infant and my older guy was almost 3….Tim (older guy) was dancing around Ted (infant) and trying to make him laugh while showing him toys and making fart noises. (like father, like son). Again I thought….Oh SHIT, it’s loud in here and who are these little people living in my house and did my wife paint the hallway without even telling me?
They are growing fast. Too fast. They are amazing and it is indescribable to explain what it is like to view life through someone else’s eyes. They are hilarious, independent, motivated, intelligent, and healthy.
Every conversation with them is full of wonder and joy. I am teaching them how to be men. I am teaching them that the world is a beautiful place with infinite possibilities and numerous paths to explore. I am teaching them to be kind, and that most people are giving. I am teaching them to look out for themselves, while helping others. I am showing them how to stay aware of their surroundings by telling them that you can never really know what kind of a day other people are having, nor do you know how they are functioning with the baggage that they currently carry. Our dialogue can and does drift anywhere and everywhere and I love every second of all of it. Time will tell if any of this is passing through their neurons.
Here’s the quiet part out loud that really keeps me up at night: I’m not going to always be here to guide them. That is more of an Oh SHIT moment than anything that came before. Vanessa and I wanted to have kids. In truth, Vanessa did first and eventually I came around. My fear then, as it still is now, is my disease. I was and am confident enough to know that I am a good human and a good father. What trips me up is the infinite jest of time. All of us have it: we want to see our kids grow up, we want to watch them become adults, and we want to be there for the milestones: a high school or college graduation, the dating years, a career, a big adventure trip, marriage, perhaps grandchildren…and all of the peaks and valleys in between.
The difference between me and the majority of parents is that I am already sick. I don’t have the luxury of hoping that I won’t become ill or disabled. I’m already there and I was there even before the kids were born. Sometimes I think that having kids in my condition was selfish. I’m bringing humans into the world only to potentially provide them with life-long trauma if I die before they grow up. That’s what keeps me up at night. Not every night, but boy, when I think about that, the burden is heavy.
Then I think about my wife, who wanted me to be the father of her kids. We joke that I was drafted into the world of the disabled, but she enlisted. Taking on caregiving responsibilities AND kids is a herculean task. Somehow she makes this look like anyone can do it. It looks like watching Michael Jordan dunk a basketball….so effortless that you watch and think…that doesn’t look so hard. I amazed by her each and every day.
I lost my own dad when I was 21. I thought I was a grown up and I thought that he had his act together. He was pretty calm and seemed in control of life at all times. As I have aged, I have learned that both of those thoughts were false. As I type this, I am 53 and I have learned that I don’t know more often than I know…ya know? I also realize that 21 fits the definition of adult, but I might as well have still been in diapers.
Like every parent, I have no idea how long I will be around to watch my kids become adults. Longevity has its place, but being present for them each day right now is what I can control. I will continue to help them to grow in the world, while letting them know that I will always be watching over them even when my physical form is gone. My father has be gone for more than thirty years, and I hear his voice and advice quite often. This is my wish for the next generation of Moeschens.
To Tim and Ted: Dad loves you more than anything that he has had the pleasure of experiencing in this life. Thinking about both of you is not a bad reason to keep awake at night, but did you have to leave popcorn in my bed?
Stay safe, stay awesome, and stay tuned.
Moeschen! 