I had a few of those moments last weekend that made me remember why I wanted to have a baby, and which made me very grateful for my three-month-old daughter.

She woke up at 7 AM to eat, and I brought her into the bed with us to nurse from a side-lying position (one of our favorites at night and in the early hours of the morning.) After a bit, we both drifted off to sleep, waking up at 8:30.

My husband woke up at about the same time. He looked across our daughter, sleeping between us on her back with her arms stretched over her head and the slightest little smile on her face, and said “Good morning.” We lied there together for a few minutes watching her sleep, until I put her in her bassinet so we could get up and begin our day.

She woke up while I was cooking French toast and I asked my husband to take care of her. I still had the baby monitor clipped to my waist band, and I smiled as I heard the dialogue taking place in the bedroom. “Hey, kiddo!” he said. He must have seen her smile, then, as he commented, “Wow, you are in a good mood this morning.”

I listened as he lifted her up over his head, proclaiming, “Up, up, up. Down, down, down” (and a pause for kisses.) I listened to the whole diaper-changing routine, too, all the baby talk and sounds and games.

It’s often hard, while I leave my husband to watch my daughter so that I can work, to not get distracted listening to them together. It’s so much fun to watch them play—and even more fun when he doesn’t realize I’m doing it! (Of course, now my secret’s out.)

My husband can take my daughter, lift her over his head a lot higher than I could reach, swing her around, and play games that I’m just not brave enough to try. She feels secure in Daddy’s grasp and laughs and smiles with delight.

Meanwhile, I’m the only one who can get her to fall asleep by nursing (of course) or even singing to her. And sometimes, there’s just nothing like cuddling up in Mommy’s arms.

My husband’s mom raised three kids largely on her own, and my mom raised me alone from the age of 12. I give single moms so much credit; I simply don’t know how they do it.

When I think about how lucky I am to have my husband, who is a very active and involved father, I also realized how fortunate my daughter is to have us both around to love and nurture her in very different ways.

Moms, what activities do you love watching your husband do with the baby? Dads, what special gifts do you share with your children?

Since the stories about the historical nature of Michael Phelps’ eight gold medals had been beaten to death by the mainstream media before the end of the Beijing Olympics, a new Phelps-centric story was needed to capitalize on his fame. Unfortunately, most of the swimming events were completed, leaving the media no more opportunities to reference Phelps save for some far-fetched comparisons to Usain Bolt, the Jamaican sprinter with multiple medals and world records.

Enter Fred Phelps, estranged father of Michael Phelps.

According to reports, Fred and Debbie (Michael’s mother) divorced in 1992, and since then the relationship between father and son has been, at best, difficult. Prior to the Athens Olympics in 2004, Michael was asked about his father and replied that the two hadn’t spoken since he was in high school, and that Fred didn’t call when he broke the world record in 2001. They reconciled shortly thereafter, and Fred came to the 2004 Games, but the relationship soured again.

Now, Fred is fielding calls from media outlets, and from what I can tell, he has no interest in capitalizing on his newfound celebrity. He is often referred to as “tight lipped”, and the few quotes he offers are deferential to his son.

“This is not about me, it’s about him.“

I cannot imagine what has happened between these two men to prevent them from having even the most minor of relationships. I have no idea what the circumstances are, so I have no interest in laying blame at either man’s feet. However, what I do know is that as a father myself, I love my kids, and no matter what may happen in the future, I will continue to love them and do what’s right for them. (As an aside: no, my wife and I are not having any marital problems, but I cannot help but put myself in another father’s shoes when I read about their relationships with their kids.) I just don’t understand how they allowed it to get to this point, and why it cannot be repaired.

Source: Phelps, dad not on speaking terms via Fox Sports.

I was chatting online with another Babies Online staffer when she suggested the topic of today’s post: unique ways to tell the father you’re pregnant (thanks Kelli). Unfortunately, both times my wife got pregnant, I was as closely involved with her cycle as she was because we were actively trying to get pregnant. So, my big surprise involved her coming out of the bathroom with a big smile and a small white plastic stick in her hand. However, I did a little research, and came up with some suggestions.

Dinner Surprise – One idea that I thought was a little odd, but interesting, was to write a note on the father’s dinner plate and then cover it with food. As he eats he discovers the message. A variation on this is to serve a “baby” meal (all items have the word baby in them: baby carrots, baby squash, baby back ribs, etc.)

Slip Him Something – Another suggestion would be to buy some article of baby clothing such as a pair of socks and leave them in his pocket, possibly with a note attached.

Make Room For Baby – Empty half of his underwear drawer and replace them with diapers, with (or without) a note that reads, “Better start making room for me, Daddy!”

Daddy Paraphernalia – This is how we told our parents. We purchased the books What Grandmas Do Best and What Grandpas Do Best and wrapped them as gifts. Alternatives to a book include a shirt, a onesie, a bib, a mug… just about anything is available with the word “Daddy” on it these days.

Accidentally Leave A Hint – Two easy examples are to leave your web browser pointed at an online retailer for baby furniture (maybe a crib) or leave a baby store magazine open with page marks throughout that highlight various things you’ll need.

Purchase Something Large – If you can afford it, purchase a new baby item, preferably something large that requires assembly, and leave it in the trunk of your car. Then tell him you need a lot of help with something.

How did you tell the father you were pregnant?

Last month, an obstetrician in the UK wrote an article detailing with why men should never be in the delivery room. The piece was written in response to a survey that said fathers should be allowed to spend the night in the hospital when their baby is born. In the article, the doctor, who has presided over 15,000 births, believes that men are a distraction in the delivery room, and that labours are longer now because of it. He also justifies his position with anecdotal evidence, including: fathers (he mentions only a few) who leave the mother immediately following the birth, subsequent sexual difficulties because of what the father sees (which the doctor argues results in divorce later on), and one man whose schizophrenia was triggered by being at the delivery. I will not recount the entire article here; it is a fascinating read, and I encourage everyone to take a few minutes to consider its contents.

I was present at the birth of my daughter. Without going into much detail about the delivery (brief version: about 15 hours of labour culminating in an elective cesarean – although it may have become emergency in the future – because of the baby being right occipital posterior (ROP), meaning she was facing sideways and therefore could not pass through the birth canal) it was a difficult process, but I can offer some anecdotal evidence contrary to that of the doctor.

My wife had been given an epidural, and yet complained of pain in her hip/lower back/bottom. She said that she felt like there was a bar pressing against her. The nurse condescendingly dismissed her, saying that she was imagining things. My wife turned to me, and said that she was sure there was something. So, I helped her turn to one side, and I felt the mattress: at the bending point for one of the adjustable joints, the mattress had worn so thin that one could feel the frame underneath! I called the nurse over and showed her what I found. This resulted in two outcomes: first, they put a pillow under her bottom to alleviate the pain, and second, they realized that her epidural had been improperly administered.

The day after giving birth (which I am aware is not “in the delivery room” anymore, but the story bears telling), my wife was transferred to a different room. The student nurse who was assisting her primary nurse got a couple of her friends and they wheeled her (while she was holding our daughter in her arms) into the hall while I followed with the bags. They tried to enter the room. Bam! My wife winced. They backed up and tried again. Bam! Again, my wife winced. They started to try a third time. “Stop,” I said.

“No, no. It’s OK. We’ll get it,” the student replied.

“Step away from the bed. Now,” I said through gritted teeth.

They complied. I put down the bags, and pulled the bed away from the door. I lifted the bottom of the bed slightly, and, steering it like a wheelbarrow, got the head of the bed through the doorway. I turned to the three nursing students, “Think you can handle it from here?”

Both of these anecdotes illustrate my role in the birth of our daughter: I was not the one doing the actual birthing, but I was my wife’s advocate. I stood up for her when she needed someone to stand up for her because she was too exhausted, too weak, or just being disrespected. I was her partner, just as I said I would be when we got married.

While some fathers may find the delivery difficult to handle, ultimately I think their presence is more beneficial than harmful, not just to the mother but to the family unit as a whole. As I say to my daughter all the time, fathers are parents too. Establishing that bond as early as possible benefits everyone. If I had been in the waiting room, as this doctor suggested, my daughter would have spent her first hour of life in a bassinet in the operating room. Instead, she was swaddled and cuddled and was able to stare at me, bewildered, while I spoke softly to her, telling her everything was going to be OK.

What are your thoughts on this issue? Were the fathers present at your births, or do they plan to be there for your future ones?

When our fathers were kids, their fathers were held to a different standard of what made a “good” dad. At that time, a good dad was one who didn’t beat his kids, or get loaded every night of the week. He provided for his family financially, and maintained the larger scale projects around the house. In return, his kids rarely “bothered” him, depending instead on their mother for most non-financial, non-labour-intensive items.

Not much changed when our fathers began to raise us as children. They were still the “primary” breadwinners, and were expected not to be abusive. In exchange, they expected (and generally got) their “man time” to do what they wanted. The primary parenting came not from them, but from the mothers.

The above paragraphs are admittedly generalizations. Some dads of both generations I mention above were not like this. Some were worse, and some were better. But for the most part, this is a reasonable depiction of how the family dynamic played out.

In today’s world, fathers are so much more than they ever were in the past. Some are still the primary breadwinner with a wife who stays home and takes care of the children, while others are part of a dual-income partnership where neither is primary and instead both are equals. Some are even the at-home parent, leaving their wives to the previous generation’s “father” role as breadwinner, choosing instead to be the primary caregiver.

Regardless of which situation a father finds himself in, his responsibilities no longer end once the paycheque is in the bank. The father who works out of the home is expected to come home, take off his tie (or work boots) and be just as much of a parent as the old-school mothers were “back in the day”. The modern dad cannot get away with being an emotionally unavailable authority figure like those before him. Instead, he must tread the line, balancing between being a kind and loving man whom his children feel close to and believe they can confide in, and the strong, proud “manly” authoritarian of old.

Personally, I have embraced this deviation from what I learned. It was almost intuitive to me, to become a better father than the one I had. For a long time, throughout my adolescence and into young adulthood, I felt angry at him for being so distant. As I grew up, I came to understand the social pressures that pushed him into that role. That is not to excuse his behavior, but rather to explain it.

I swore that if I ever had children that I would not be that kind of father to them, and so far, I have been a very different dad. My daughter and I have special dates that are just for her and I to socialize. Sure, I take her to stores on weekend mornings while my wife sleeps, but we also go out for breakfast, just the two of us, and talk. I try to spend as much time as I can with her during the week, even if it is only a few short hours between the end of my work day and her bed time.

And yet with every passing day, I am aware of the fact that while I may be doing what I can to provide for my daughter’s emotional, physical, and financial needs, I may not be meeting them from her perspective. It’s not like my father knew he was disappointing me, right? So who is to say that 15 years from now I won’t have a daughter who feels as I did?

What do you think of how your father parented you? Were you satisfied, or did you want more? How do you (or your husband if you’re a mom) parent? Is he (are you) more emotionally involved than fathers of previous generations? How do you (does he) feel about it?