“Are you thrilled?”
This question has come my way countless times from family, friends, and colleagues over the last several months. I’m on the brink of becoming a first-time dad, and the thought of partnering with my wife to raise our lively baby girl brings me a mix of joy and a profound sense of calm that’s hard to articulate.
So yes, I’m excited. However, let’s be real: I’m 43. Shortly after learning I was going to be a father, I found myself searching “Celebrity Dads Over 40,” hoping to find a gallery of rugged yet stylish rock-star dads sporting a guitar and a Baby Bjorn. Instead, my computer froze. Coincidence? Maybe.
I get that the concern for 40-something first-time dads might barely register on the radar of parenting experts, ranking somewhere between managing screen time and deciding whether to hire a clown, magician, or, of course, a bouncy house for the birthday party (spoiler: it’s always the bouncy house).
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about keeping pace with my daughter as she navigates life’s milestones. I want to be present for everything — from her first words and steps to grilling her prom date and cheering her on during her inaugural address in 2060. The thought of missing out on these moments is hard to bear.
On a positive note, I stand a good chance of being around and fully engaged for many of her formative experiences, as long as I maintain my love-hate relationship with cardio and healthier eating habits. After all, even younger dads miss pivotal moments because life happens.
Being 43 also means I carry a wealth of knowledge and life experiences in my parenting toolkit. I’ve learned that mastery takes time, which demands patience — a trait I’ve developed over the years. I may not always be the perfect dad, especially at first, but I’m slowly coming to terms with that reality. Eventually, I’ll navigate the challenges and become the father my daughter needs.
Realistically, while my age is a concern, it’s manageable and not the end of the world. I suspect that once the baby arrives, I’ll be so immersed in the chaos of dirty diapers and sleepless nights that I won’t have the luxury of worrying whether I can relate to a preteen who, after jamming to a Kendrick track, exclaims, “I love oldies!”
The more pressing issue, however, is something I may have even less control over than my age. If you’ve read the title, you probably guessed it: I’m anxious about raising a child in a world where a misogynistic figurehead has risen to the presidency, wielding unchecked power. This concern weighs heavily on my mind for at least the first four to eight years of my daughter’s life.
To me, Donald Trump embodies the troubling mindset of our nation. He is a glaring reflection of the values many Americans have embraced while neglecting others. We often prize strength, even when it bulldozes the vulnerable. We chase material wealth, even if it means stepping on others to attain it. We accumulate stuff while ignoring the environmental consequences, and we prioritize self-interest, even when it leads us to reject scientific truth.
Moreover, we often misunderstand critical thinking, viewing it merely as the ability to dismantle opposing views rather than the skill to thoughtfully examine all perspectives — particularly our own.
In pursuit of these “values,” many Americans have sacrificed community, charity, education, empathy, and equality. They’ve overlooked the importance of honoring and protecting those who gave us life. These are the principles I hope to instill in our daughter.
However, it won’t be a walk in the park. Despite being equipped to think critically, my daughter will face a barrage of media messages that promote harmful ideologies, distort the truth, or vilify perspectives that don’t align with corporate interests. With ongoing wars, healthcare becoming a luxury, and climate change spiraling out of control, she’ll inherit a world shaped by humanity’s reckless disregard for itself.
And then there’s me.
I’ve used “we” throughout this post because I’m not an innocent observer in the issues I critique. Like many, I’ve at times embraced the very “values” I now oppose. Being progressive doesn’t shield one from lapses in judgment, stubbornness, or self-serving behavior.
What I do have going for me is the awareness that my occasional lapses can undermine the values I hold dear. I recognize my flaws and strive to improve daily.
Perhaps that’s where we all find ourselves: imperfect but still capable of making the right choices if we can confront our weaknesses and work to overcome them, ideally with support from others. If we manage this, perhaps we can save ourselves and our world. It’s a tall order, but not entirely impossible.
Or maybe it is. Honestly, I’m running low on answers.
But one day, perhaps years from now, when I ask my daughter how she plans to save the world, if her response starts with, “Dad, it’s complicated,” followed by a thoughtful plan, I’ll know she’s precisely what this chaotic world needs — and that I’ve done a decent job for an “old man.”
If you’re looking for more insights into the journey of parenthood, check out this post on home insemination kits or visit Babymaker for expert advice on this subject. For additional information on pregnancy, the Mayo Clinic is a great resource.
Summary
In a reflective piece, Alex Taylor shares his thoughts on impending fatherhood at 43 amid a tumultuous political landscape. He grapples with the challenges of raising a daughter in a world shaped by troubling societal values and the impact of a controversial presidency. Despite his concerns about age and societal influences, Alex remains hopeful about instilling critical thinking and empathy in his child while acknowledging his own flaws and the need for continual personal growth.
Keyphrase: Navigating fatherhood in the Trump era
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]