EXPERIENCES - A Father’s Honest Reflection
A Father's Struggle to Fill a Mother's Shoes
By: Ulysses C. Ybiernas | June 27, 2008
Today began on a low note. I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was inadvertently teaching my child the art of procrastination. Why? Because I had become so engrossed in my own sense of time, thinking only of myself. While my daughter rose early, brimming with energy and readiness, I purposefully delayed, convincing myself there was plenty of time.
What I failed to anticipate was how a newly opened private school nearby would flood the streets with cars, transforming our usually smooth drive into a chaotic and stressful ordeal.
When we finally arrived at her school, my daughter hesitated at the gate. Her small frame seemed weighed down by worry, her face tense with anxiety. She was afraid of being late. Though I tried to reassure her, I found myself nudging her toward the entrance, urging her to get to class.
This hesitation revealed more than just tardiness anxiety; it reflected her struggle to adapt. Having previously attended a stricter school run by nuns, the shift in environment had been unsettling for her.
As she disappeared into the building, a troubling question haunted me: Where did all these fears come from? Was it the school, the change, or perhaps my own actions? I wondered if her mother’s presence might have eased her unease. A deep realization hit me, I could never fully replicate the warmth, care, and emotional reassurance that only a mother’s love can provide.
That night, as I held my one-year-old close to lull her to sleep, her cries resonated with more than the usual frustration of a tantrum. Her tear-filled eyes seemed to express a deep longing. I wiped away her tears and sang her a lullaby, but her little gaze remained blank, filled with an indescribable sadness.
She wasn’t just seeking comfort; she was yearning for something more profound, her mother’s love.
Suddenly, a noise outside the room startled her. She stiffened and slipped from my arms, reaching for my hand to lead me to the sound. As I opened the door, there stood her nanny. Without hesitation, my daughter rushed into the nanny’s arms, finding solace there.
In that bittersweet moment, I understood: the nanny had become the maternal figure she craved.
Life has taken my family and me down paths I never anticipated, shaped by decisions I can’t undo. The absence of her mother, though deeply felt, is a reality I cannot change.
Parenthood is a constant balancing act of doing our best while wrestling with the weight of our shortcomings. Sometimes, the choices we make, whether intentional or not, chart a course that leads us to unforeseen destinations.
Every decision carries consequences, big or small. Often, the outcomes we face today are the echoes of past actions, some guided by careful thought, others by negligence or impulsiveness.
"Strength, love, and endless patience - this is a trait of a single dad."
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