The joys and pain of being a father and loving husband

My son turns 30 tomorrow. I can still remember how I took him in my arms minutes after his birth. My, how 30 years can fly! In those years – probably considerably more than a third of all the years I’ll spend on this fascinating planet – he stood central in my decisions, my dreams, my actions.

I had him in my arms when we sat half-naked in front of a fan when he was feverish when his tonsils acted up when he was two. I paced the hospital hallways when his four-year-old little hand was shattered when the children were far too rough at my sister’s wedding.

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I was there when he received a huge trophy as his school’s best athlete; I wiped away the tears when he started university. I was part of a small group of people when he got married last year and I’ll smoke a cigar when his wife gives birth to my first grandson next month. I’d say he has made me the proudest father on earth over 30 years. Just short of 11 000 days of fatherly love – I can’t imagine my life without it.

Yes, I have another child – the eccentric little Egg, and I love her to bits. But my son will always have a very special place in my heart.

Sadly, my joy isn’t shared by everyone. The lovely Snapdragon, my present wife, is not as impressed by her stepson as I am. The two of them don’t see eye to eye, to put it mildly.

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He didn’t invite her to his wedding, he didn’t attend our wedding, he didn’t call or visit when she was fighting for her life in hospital, and she wasn’t invited to next week’s stork party.

“Uhm… his mother organises the stork party,” I tried to explain. “First wives tend to dislike second wives. It’s got nothing to do with him.”

She didn’t say anything, but her thin lips are a great reason to believe I haven’t heard the end of it. I presume she won’t congratulate him tomorrow. And I don’t think she will be invited to my grandchild’s first birthday.

Sometimes, being a loving husband and a proud father can be the greatest joy on earth. But there are times when those things can shatter your heart into tiny pieces.

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In the coming weeks, I’ll need the wisdom of Solomon. Keep me in your thoughts, dear reader.