By Dr. André Stein, Ph.D. and Dr. Peter Samu, M.D.
Excerpt from Father's Milk: Nourishment and Wisdom for the First-Time Father
There is a nasty myth out there that men are not nurturers. And yet, millions of women enter into long-term relationships with men. Could all these women have been led astray?
I'd venture to say that a large majority of women do get a good measure of the warmth, understanding, sensitivity, generosity, strength, affection, and security they crave from their partners. Which can only mean that somewhere inside us we possess those qualities, even if we have to dig deep to find them. And if we are able to give those qualities to another man's daughter, we can certainly do the same for our own children.
Nature, in designing men and women as specialists, has not seen fit to grant man the role of primary nurturer. It befell us to be the hunters and protectors. Hence our arms bulge with bigger muscles and our brains can calculate the trajectory of a missile to bring down the woolly mammoth. Men may start as the same glob of tissue inside the womb, but when bombarded with testosterone pellets they become little Sherman tanks. But don't count out the heart of a warm, wet puppy beating inside. It's just that if we show too much sensitivity it gets pummeled out of us at school, or by our siblings, or by our dads and yes, even our moms. And if we still haven't learned our lesson, there's always the military.
The downside of specialization is that we have allowed ourselves to be locked out of the nursery. And we are still hanging out there to dry. The Bible hasn't helped, either. As I have alluded to in another chapter, Abraham, the quintessential model of wisdom and maturity, had his blade unsheathed and poised to execute his son—an action some mothers would interpret as lacking in sensitivity. There are other examples in the Good Book of male characters whose nurturing attributes could be called into question. In the context of today's mores, a mother might have difficulty with the concept of human sacrifice, especially of her child. What I know for sure is that the Bible has set the tone for a steep, uphill battle for fathers as nurturers.
We are prejudged as heartless and calculating. It's as if each father had to reinvent fatherhood in order to prove himself worthy. So, what can we do to put "daddy" back into father? I can tell you a little something that's worked for me and many of the men I've counseled in my practice.
It involves using the part of our makeup with which nature has endowed us generously: the power of reasoning and carrying out a preconceived plan. Men are best at effecting change once they have consciously identified the problem. No amount of outside nagging and cajoling is as effective as insight.
In this case the problem might be stated like this. Our rough exterior (speech, manner, and appearance) makes us appear unlikely nurturers. Something must be done to change this perception. The next step is to develop a plan of action. If this sounds calculating, it's the way our testosterone-driven brain is designed.
If we think of the time we spend with our kid as a personal sacrifice, it only means we haven't been spending enough time alone with him or her. There is a temptation (I've been there) to use the time we're spending with our children as an occasion to catch up on the tasks we would be doing otherwise, hoping they will amuse themselves or, even better, fall asleep. This is not only cheating but counterproductive. The idea is to use every opportunity to get closer to our children. For only then does the magic begin; only then can we genuinely begin to enjoy.
Women tend to know a lot more about babies because it's their specialty. They are groomed for nurturing from the word go—by moms, nurses, teachers, and the rest of humanity. They're given dolls to play with. They read stories about families and relationships. There are hundreds of mothering books for each fathering title. But it's not too late for us to learn. All we need to do is declare it a priority.
One of the most significant times I've ever spent with my son was when he was seven and come down with a nasty case of strep throat...high fever, huge tonsils, the works. We were supposed to be attending a wedding in Vermont and had been talking about the trip for weeks. I swallowed hard and declared that I would stay home with my son. I have to tell you that this was not without a sense of sacrifice.
What I gained during those five days was an unexpected glimpse of what motherhood must be like. My son sat in my lap for a long as he wanted. I alone had to attend to all his needs.
While the experience made me feel competent and life-sustaining, it was initially an exhausting and lonely task. I was even feeling resentful, which came as a bit of a shock, that my wife was out there having a carefree time. It's a peculiar mix of being stranded by one's own volition and at the same time yearning to be free, if even for a moment. It's the way I imagine moms feel much of the time.
But toward the end of the weekend as my son started to improve, we both began to have a close and wonderful time. We laughed, played games, read stories, and never even turned on the TV. The initial sacrifice paid off in droves.
When my family came back, I could honestly tell my wife that the weekend had been just great and I wouldn't have swapped it for five Vermonts.
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