I don't feel like a dad. I feel like high school student who has to look after an egg for a week.

"Don't drop him"
"Lay him down gently"
"Don't swaddle him too tight"

The words of wisdom I was given have quickly been drowned out by his cries, to which I have no answer.

He was just fed
He has a fresh diaper
He has a clean clothes on
He wrapped in a cozy blanket
Why are you still crying?

This isn't fatherhood
There are no meaningful interactions
I am uncertain he can even see or hear me

But he needs me or rather mom needs me, because he needs her more

I didn't carry him for nine months
I didn't birth him into this world
Hers was the first touch he knew
I don't have *******
I feed him through plastic; cold and indifferent
I am not a dad yet.

I am in between who I was and who I going to be and it is agony
I am being torn in two and it doesn't even seem like it's the right time
Being asked to shelve myself for a life that doesn't need me yet feels harsh

This has to be price of admission
The cost of a lifetime of memories with my son

But the more I think about it, the more I realize I might have it easy

Mom was ****** into the necessary
Instantaneously the center of his existence

I get to wait until hard part is over
Until he can see me and at last make the connection; I am dad

It doesn't make the tearing of myself any easier but at least it shows  a glimpse

That limbo won't last forever;
That I will be a dad