(^ Oxytocin – the closest thing to magic that is produced by the human body)
Here’s to the dads whose faces light up when they first lay eyes upon their son or daughter as they arrive in this world.
Here’s to the dads who visibly marvel at the women who have grown and nurtured this baby with their own bodies.
Here’s to the dads who openly weep as their emotions find no words to carry them.
Here’s to the dads who worry that their own giddy state will cause them to lop off a child’s limb as you gently indicate where they can cut the umbilical cord.
Here’s to the dads who share in their partner’s joy at the wriggling, confused human before them.
Here’s to the dads who hold these children with equal parts love and strength and a commitment to never let harm come to them.
Here’s to the dads who ask you jovially: “What’s that in English?” as you tell them the weight of their child in grammes, so that they can share the news with impatiently waiting family and friends.
Here’s to the dads whose faces are nothing short of incredulous as you handle their baby confidently and carefully to check that there are all the bits there visibly should be, and none of the bits there shouldn’t.
Here’s to the dads who look at a nappy with the eyes of someone whose just been given a project with no instructions, or pattern to follow, but does it anyway and does a fine job
Here’s to the dads who hold baby aloft like Rafiki, only to hear that rumble of thunder from that clean nappy.
Here’s to the dads who apologise for every question that they think they should already know.
Here’s to the dads who all have the same face when those tiny fingers wrap themselves around his own, seemingly giant finger.
Here’s to the dads who don’t call looking after their own child “babysitting”
Here’s to the dads who don’t hunt down the teenager who breaks their son’s heart
Here’s to the dads who show their daughters that they deserve respect and equality
Here’s to the dads who teach their children about consent, and love.
Here’s to the dads who do the job of an absent mother
Here’s to the dads who are actually mums who stepped up
Here’s to the dads whom are there from their child’s first breath
Here’s to the dads who have to witness their child’s last breath
Here’s to the dads who stay silent in a birth room, like the heart beat of their child whom they’ve never met.
Here’s to the dads who don’t know what to say to the woman they love as she births this baby born sleeping with everything that she is
Here’s to the dads who only get to hold their babies for what seems like a nanosecond. A drop in the ocean compared with what should be a childhood of firsts
Here’s to the dads who will never get to hold their daughters hoping to heal their broken hearts
Here’s to the dads who will never get to read their sons a bedtime story
Here’s to the dads who would trade everything to hear their own child laugh
Here’s to the dads.
Here’s to all of you.
Thank you for letting me a part of your lives, even just for a short time. I mean it when I say it’s a privilege to have witnessed you becoming a father