“If I Could Talk to My 24-Year-Old Self Before Becoming a Dad…”
I’m 29 now. A husband. A father of three. And every day, I watch my wife, Franziska—the woman who carried, birthed, and nurtured our children with awe-inspiring grace—do what so many don’t see: the invisible, constant, bone-deep work of motherhood.
If I could sit down with my 24-year-old self—the guy who had no kids yet and thought he understood love, partnership, and responsibility—I’d offer him this:
1. She carried the baby IN her belly for 9 months. You carry it ON yours every chance you get.
I know your back will ache. You’ll lose sleep. But every baby nap on your chest is a gift. Not just for her recovery, but for you. The bond you’ll build with your child in those quiet, sacred hours is deeper than you can imagine. And when she sees you doing it without being asked, it tells her: You’re not in this alone.
2. She’s breastfeeding—yes, it’s beautiful—but it’s also draining and relentless. So change every diaper you can.
Even the first one. Even the messy ones at 3 a.m. Even if your stomach turns. Because it’s not just about diapers. It’s about balance. It’s about saying, I see your labor, and I’m in the trenches with you. And when her friends are venting about disconnected partners, she’ll be quietly proud that you’re the exception.
3. Make her the coffee. Even if it goes cold.
Every morning. Decaf. Just the way she likes it. She might not drink it, especially in the newborn haze, but it’s not about the caffeine—it’s about the ritual. It’s about giving her something that says, Your needs still matter. That cup says, I love you, even on the mornings when words don’t come easily.
4. Tell her she’s beautiful. Especially when she doesn’t believe it.
There will be days when she stands in front of the mirror and doesn’t recognize the body that gave you life. Remind her of her strength. Remind her of what she just accomplished—her body literally rearranged its organs to grow your child. She is a miracle in motion. Let her borrow your belief in her until she rediscovers her own.
5. Take the heat. Be her safe place.
Hormones will rage like a storm. There will be days when her words are sharp, her patience thin, and her tears constant. Don’t take it personally. Don’t fight fire with fire. You are her anchor when everything inside her feels adrift. Your strength in those moments is what she’ll remember—not what was said in exhaustion, but the grace with which you stayed kind.
Becoming a parent isn’t about splitting chores down the middle—it’s about showing up with your whole heart. It’s about seeing your partner not just as the mother of your children, but as the person who still needs your tenderness, your attention, your love.
Looking back, I don’t remember every sleepless night or spit-up shirt. What I remember are the moments I showed up fully—for her, for them, for us.
And if you’re just starting your journey into parenthood—don’t worry if you’re unsure. Just keep showing up.
Because love is in the diapers. In the cold coffee. In the soft words when it’s hard.
And that’s the kind of father, partner, and man I hope we all grow into.
