Daddy

Watching my partner grow into the role of fatherhood has been somewhat special. I look back at those early days and remember my fear, anxiety and uncertainty, I remember the times I told him off, the times he held and rocked her. But I was so absorbed into the world of motherhood that I never saw his fears, anxieties and uncertainties.

 I saw the way he held her so delicately at first, love and awe in his eyes, to the way he plays with her now, lifting her high into the air and back down again, his eyes full of laughter. I remember the times he took over when it got tough, the chops he made for dinner without me asking him, the flowers in the window and the pride in his smile.

He must have been scared too, but he plodded on with a shaky optimism; no father wants to upset a mother with PND. He knew only too well how easily I could break, how uncertain I'd become about our lives as a family, but he plodded on.

There are times he doesn't understand. Like a lioness, I protect our baby from intruders, from threat. He will never know the heights of such an intense feeling, but he strives to accept it and accept me, even when he can't see the threat.

He loves me for being her Mum, he loves the way I love her, he loves me when I'm low. Only now, as my black cloud begins to slightly break away, leaving tiny sun beams to stretch out warming arms, do I see him clearly. My partner, still here, still loving me, lifting our child up, playfully and confidently with big eyes full of wonder.