Dear future me,
Today is my first Father’s Day, but I haven’t even met the little one, yet.
Still a flutter in your mom’s belly. A heartbeat on a screen. A dream that’s quickly becoming real.
And yet, the moment I saw those two pink lines, something shifted. My heart was pounding: part nerves, part disbelief. But in the middle of the chaos, I felt something else take over. That quiet, instinctive protective energy I’ve heard about but never truly understood until that second. I may not have held my baby yet, but I was already becoming a dad.
Remember how it all began? Those first few weeks were a blur of waiting and whispering. You must’ve Googled ‘pregnancy test accuracy’ a hundred times, trying to manage your hopes while preparing for anything. You didn’t want to jinx it by getting too excited, but you couldn’t help imagining who your baby might be.
And when it was confirmed, everything changed.
You looked at the lovely mommy-to-be, and suddenly the world felt both bigger and smaller. New questions rushed in, ones you’d never thought to ask before. Responsibilities you hadn’t fully grasped started taking shape. But alongside all of that came something powerful and unexpected: a quiet, fierce love. You hadn’t met your baby yet, but somehow, you already knew you’d do anything for them.
When I used to hold my friends’ or cousins’ babies, I always thought, these little humans should come with an instruction manual. There’s just so much to learn, and honestly, it can feel overwhelming. But now that I’m here, standing on the edge of fatherhood, I’m realizing something: I may not know everything, but my instincts are already kicking in. I’ll figure it out, as I go, with love, patience, and probably a lot of coffee.
And so will you, at all the stages that are going to come your way as a father.
The emotional rollercoaster is real. You’ll feel things you never expected—sometimes all in the same day. The first time you hear that tiny heartbeat? Your heart will swell with pride, joy, and a kind of love that doesn’t even fit into words. But don’t be surprised if that rush is followed closely by doubt and worry. Can I really do this? Will I be enough?
If you’re reading this in the future, I hope you remember what this chapter was like. The way we picked names, rearranged furniture, and debated the merits of dozens of cribs before choosing one. I hope you made the most of this season—rubbing her belly, talking to your baby, helping her put her feet up after a long day. Because this time, before everything shifts, is something you’ll never get back. And it’s part of the magic, too.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my own mum and dad lately. And my grandparents, too. About their quiet strength, the sacrifices they made without ever needing applause. I never really saw it until now—how they held things together behind the scenes, how they just showed up.
Now, I get it. That kind of love is the foundation we build from.
And I hope to carry that forward for our baby. For us.
Parenthood brings out every emotion on the spectrum. Let yourself feel them. Let them soften you. Let them strengthen you. Remember that these emotions are part of becoming a dad, not signs that you’re doing it wrong.
So, future me, wherever you are on this fatherhood ride, don’t forget how this all started.
The nerves. The joy. The learning. The love that showed up before the baby did.
You don’t need to be perfect. Just present.
Happy first Father’s Day—to the guy who’s still figuring it out, and to the dad you’ve become.
With love,
Your past self
