Ser “Papá”/Being “Dad”

-Te voy a decir una cosa. Aprovecha ahorita que tienes tiempo y duerme todo lo que puedas, porque cuando nazca tu hijo….ya no vas a poder dormir igual!!!- Con estas palabras que resonaron en mis oidos como si del augurio de una terrible maldicion se tratara, varios de mis compañeros de trabajo acompañaban sus respectivas felicitaciones para con mi persona al enterarse de que pronto seria padre. Que producian estas palabras en mi persona?… Miedo! un miedo que al mismo tiempo me cuestionaba si podria realizar correctamente dicho papel. Sin embargo, cada vez que acompañaba a mi esposa a los ultrasonidos y podia ver a travez de estos, como crecia nuestro pequeño, una terrible alegria dibujaba una sonrisa en mis labios mientras pensaba: -Ya quiero que nazcas!! Y cuando nacio, fue la experiencia mas hermosa que he vivido.

Afortunadamente pude acompanar a mis esposa ese 25 de diciembre de hace 9 años y entrar al momento del alumbramiento y poder cargarlo recien nacido. Sin embargo el reto fue llegando a casa, ya que aquel “terrible augurio” se cumplio. Yo entendi que las responsabilidades no eran solo de mi esposa sino que tambien eran mias con todo y sus respectivas desveladas. Sin embargo sus ojos viendome fijo mientras trataba de dormirlo al ritmo de folkmetal (aunque no me crea regularmente se dormia ante el poder del metal) y su pequena risa simbolo de que disfrutaba de aquellos intensos arrullos, hacian que el esfuerzo valiera la pena. Era tanto el gozo que tenia que escribi una cancion para el, una cancion con la cual bendecir su vida, una cancion que alternaba cada noche antes de acostarle y contarle su cuento…ese era nuestro ritual, nuestro tiempo especial. Un tiempo que se mantuvo incluso cuando nos separamos por cerca de un año.

Cuando decidimos probar suerte en este pais, mi familia se quedo en Mexico mientras yo buscaba aqui un trabajo que me permitiera lo suficiente  para poder traerlos a mi lado. Yo le hablaba cada noche para contarle su cuento y cantarle su cancion sin importar que yo estuviese regresando de mi trabajo en el tren o en el autobus publico, mi labor de padre no terminaba hasta que mi esposa me decia que ya se habia dormido. Ahora mi niño con sus 8 años de edad me dice emocionado que a los 9 va a ser un preadolescente y yo le escucho con cierto temor todavia y orgullo al mismo tiempo. Y es que no ha sido facil: Muchas veces he creido que mi labor como padre no ha sido la mejor y que puede y debe mejorar: hay ocasiones en que deseo dormir o descansar un rato y justo entonces escucho se vocecita:- Vamos a jugar!!! Ser padre ha significado para mi todo un reto, un reto que tomo cada dia que despierto y me dirijo a tomar uno de sus peluches a fin de despertarle con este para que se aliste para la escuela; un reto que tomo cuando me dejo llevar por el estres y le grito para luego decirle “lo siento” y explicarle que me siento cansado y que no estoy enojado realmente con el; un reto que tomo cada vez que me acompaña a la tienda y me pide que le cuente un cuento mientras llegamos a la misma; Un reto que tomo cuando cada fin de semana me pide que tengamos nuestra pijamada y juguemos, hablemos o veamos una pelicula hasta las 3am….; un reto que tomo y agradezco a Dios y a la vida cada vez que le escucho decirme “Te amo papi”. Muchos fueron los años que vivi sin el…, pero desde que supe que mi pequeño Iker Yazid iba a nacer…,no pude, ni puedo imaginar mi vida sin el. (See translation below)


“I’m going tell you something: take advantage now that you have time and sleep as much as you can, because when your child is born you will never be able to sleep the same!” These words accompanied my coworkers’ congratulations to me when they found out that I would soon be a father. They resounded in my ears as an omen of a terrible curse. What would their well-meaning advice produce in me? FEAR! A fear that made me question whether I could perform the role of a father correctly. Even still, every time I accompanied my wife to her appointments and watched the ultrasounds seeing how our little one grew, I found myself smiling.  I thought, “I want you to be born! I want to be your dad!” The moment my son was born was the most beautiful experience I have ever had.

Fortunately, I was able to accompany my wife that December 25th, nine years ago, to be present at the time of delivery and hold him as a newborn. The true challenge was coming home. We found that “terrible omen” would be fulfilled. I understood that to raise this child would be to equally share all responsibilities with my wife – even the sleepless nights. However, his eyes staring at me while I tried to put him to sleep to the rhythm of folk metal (you may not believe it, but I could not get him to fall asleep until I discovered the power of metal) and his little laugh, a symbol of which he enjoyed those intense lullabies, made the effort worth it. The joy was so great that I wrote a song for him. A song with which to bless his life, a song that we sang every night before his bedtime story and tucking him. That was our ritual, our special time. A time that remained even when we parted ways for about a year.

When we decided to try our luck in this country, my family stayed behind in Mexico while I worked to find employment that would allow us all to thrive here together. I would call him every night to tell him his story and sing his song. It did not matter if I was on the train or the public bus after work, my work as a father was not met until my wife told me that he had fallen asleep.

Now my eight-year-old boy tells me excitedly that at nine he will be a pre-teen. I listen to him with some fear and pride at the same time. Raising him has not always been easy. There have been times I have questioned my work as a father – thinking about where and how I could improve. There are times when I want to sleep or rest, but then I hear that small voice, “Let’s play!” Being a father has been a challenge for me. A challenge that I take head-on every day that I wake up. A challenge that I take when I teasingly take his stuffed animals from him in the morning to get him to wake up and get ready for school; a challenge that I take when I get carried away by stress and snap at him and then have to apologize and explain that I’m just tired and that I’m not really mad at him; a challenge that I take every time he accompanies me to the store and asks me to tell him a story while I try to get the shopping done; a challenge that I take when every weekend he asks me to have our sleepover and play, talk or watch a movie until 3:00 in the morning; a challenge that I take and thank God and life every time I hear him say “I love you, daddy.”  I lived my life many years without him, but from the moment I knew that my little Iker Yazid was going to be born, I could not, nor can I imagine my life without him.

Comments

One reply on “Ser “Papá”/Being “Dad””

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.