We live in a society that's increasingly hostile to the idea of having children.

Scroll through social media and the message hits you like a hammer:

• "A child costs $300,000 to raise - can you really afford that?"

• "Say goodbye to your dreams - kids will drain all your energy"

• "Better focus on your career first - you can think about kids later"

• "The planet is dying - how selfish to bring another human into this mess"

• "Your body will never be the same"

• "Your relationship will suffer"

• "Your freedom? Gone forever"

The narrative isn't subtle anymore. Having children has become something to avoid, delay, or apologize for. A mistake that only the naive or irresponsible would make in today's world.

Corporate culture reinforces it - try mentioning you're planning for a baby during a job interview. Watch how quickly the energy shifts.

Dating apps reflect it - "Child-free and proud" has become a badge of honor, while "parent" often feels like a warning label.

The message is clear: having children is a burden, a sacrifice, a form of self-sabotage that will destroy your finances, your relationships, your identity, and your dreams.

I get it. I used to believe all of it too.

I'd nod along as friends listed all the reasons to avoid parenthood. I'd scroll past the articles about the crushing cost of raising kids. I'd silently agree that maybe the responsible choice was to focus on my career, my freedom, my individual journey.

But that was before.

Here's what nobody is talking about: in their rush to list everything parents lose, they've completely missed what parenthood awakens in you. While everyone's busy calculating the costs, they've forgotten to measure the gifts.

The transformation runs deeper than words can capture. But I'll try. Because this story needs to be told - not to convince you to have children, but to balance the scales of truth.

The Love You Never Knew Existed

I'll be honest - I was never the guy who got excited about babies. Kids weren't really my thing. When people would ask if I wanted children someday, I'd shrug and change the subject. The idea of fatherhood felt distant, optional, maybe even unnecessary.

Then I met my wife.

I watched how she loved our dog with this deep, unconditional devotion that seemed to flow from some ancient spring within her. I'd listen to her talk about her dreams of motherhood - not just having kids, but being the best mom she could possibly be. When she played with my niece and nephew, their pure joy and connection was magnetic. Her energy with children was different - authentic, playful, natural.

Something shifted in me. I began to see the possibility of building something larger than ourselves - a family. Not just because it was expected, but because I wanted to create this profound connection with someone who understood the depth of that commitment.

When we decided to try for a baby, that abstract idea of "family" began transforming into reality. What started as a beautiful possibility became a living, growing miracle. The journey to fatherhood was a gradual unfolding of wonder. Watching my wife's body perform its science fiction magic, feeling those first kicks, seeing those blurry ultrasound images that somehow made everything feel more real.

My wife felt that intense mother-child connection immediately. For me? That moment didn't come until they placed our daughter - Rosie - in my arms and our eyes connected for the first time.

That second felt like an eternity. A switch flipped in my brain, and suddenly I understood what truly matters. Looking into those eyes was like seeing a part of my soul staring back at me. It created this beautiful infinite loop of consciousness that went deeper and deeper until DING - I was forever changed.

This wasn't the love I knew from relationships or family. This wasn't even the deep spiritual connection I'd experienced in meditation or plant medicine ceremonies.

This was different. Bigger. More profound.

It's like your heart grows a new chamber - one you didn't even know was possible. Suddenly you're capable of a depth of love that would have seemed unimaginable before.

And here's the wild part - this expanded capacity for love doesn't just apply to your child. It spills over into everything else:

• you feel more deeply for your partner

• your compassion for others intensifies

• your connection to humanity deepens

• your ability to be present amplifies

It's as if having a child upgrades your entire emotional operating system

A Purpose That Transcends Self

Remember all those deep questions we used to ask ourselves?"What's my purpose?""Why am I here?""What's the meaning of it all?"

I used to spend hours meditating on these questions. Reading philosophy books. Having late-night conversations about consciousness and meaning.

Becoming a father didn't answer these questions - it transformed them.

My 'why' shifted from abstract philosophical pondering to something visceral and immediate. Every decision, every action, every moment gained new weight and meaning. The future wasn't some distant concept to theorize about - it was sleeping in the crib down the hall.

The change happens in waves:

First, it's survival mode. You're just trying to keep this tiny human alive, figure out what different cries mean, navigate the fog of sleepless nights.

Then comes the awareness. You start to notice how this little person watches everything you do. How they mirror your expressions, copy your gestures, absorb your energy. You realize you're not just living your life anymore - you're showing someone else how to live.

Finally, the expansion hits. Your sense of time stretches. You start thinking in generations rather than years. The choices you make today create ripples that could touch lives decades from now.

I'm not just building a business - I'm creating a legacy. Something that might inspire my daughter, support her dreams, or show her what's possible when you follow your heart.

I'm not just working on myself - I'm modelling what's possible. When I meditate, I'm showing her how to find peace within. When I face challenges, I'm teaching her about resilience. When I pursue my dreams, I'm giving her permission to chase hers.

I'm not just trying to make the world better - I'm actively shaping the world my daughter will inherit. Every choice, from how I treat the barista at my local coffee shop to the content I create online, contributes to the world she'll grow up in.

This isn't about pressure. It's about clarity. About having a north star so bright and clear that everything else comes into focus. The small stuff that used to bother me feels trivial now. The big decisions that used to paralyze me have a new framework: Will this help create a better world for her?

Those existential questions haven't disappeared. But they've evolved from intellectual exercises into practical guides for daily living. Purpose isn't something to find anymore - it's something I'm actively living, breath by breath, moment by moment, choice by choice.

And here's the beautiful part: this sense of purpose doesn't weigh you down. It lifts you up. It's not a burden to carry - it's a light that shows the way.

The Ultimate Mirror

Want to face your shadows? Have a kid.

Every trigger, every unresolved issue, every pattern you've been avoiding - it all comes to the surface. Your child becomes the most powerful mirror you've ever encountered. More revealing than any psychedelic journey. More honest than any therapy session. More direct than any meditation retreat.

Think you've mastered patience? Watch how you react when your 10-month-old decides that diaper changes are the perfect time to practice her rolling skills.

Think you're emotionally regulated? See what bubbles up when your baby won't stop crying at 3am and nothing you do seems to help.

Think you've dealt with your childhood wounds? Watch how your parents' patterns emerge in your own parenting, almost like muscle memory.

The mirror isn't always comfortable to look into. Sometimes it shows you things you've spent years trying not to see. Like how your mood affects the entire household's energy. Or how your relationship with your phone might be deeper than you'd like to admit. Or how that temper you thought you'd tamed is still there, just beneath the surface.

But here's what makes it beautiful: this mirror doesn't just show you what needs work - it gives you the motivation to actually do the work. When my daughter mirrors back my impatience or anxiety, it's not just about me anymore. It becomes an opportunity - almost an obligation - to grow, to heal, to become better.

Each reflection becomes an invitation to evolve:

• her fear becomes your chance to master true courage

• her frustration becomes your opportunity to embody patience

• her joy becomes your reminder to stay present

• her trust becomes your call to be trustworthy

This is personal development with stakes. With purpose. With immediate feedback and profound rewards. It's one thing to work on yourself for yourself. It's another thing entirely to work on yourself because this tiny human is watching, learning, and absorbing everything you do.

The beautiful paradox? The more you accept this mirror, the more it transforms from a source of judgment into a tool for growth. Your child isn't here to point out your flaws - they're here to help you become the person you're capable of being.

And sometimes, in those quiet moments when you least expect it, this mirror shows you something else: glimpses of your best self, reflected in your child's unconditional love and trust.

These moments remind you that you're not just working on your shadows - you're also nurturing your light.

The Joy You Forgot Was Possible

Remember when simply blowing bubbles could fill you with wonder?

When a cardboard box could become a spaceship?

When jumping in puddles was the height of entertainment?

Parenthood gives you a second chance at this kind of pure, unfiltered joy. But it goes deeper than that - it introduces you to an entirely new spectrum of happiness you didn't even know existed.

Let me share a moment:

My wife and I were giving our daughter a bath, one of our favourite nightly rituals. I was twirling one of her bath toys when it happened - our baby girl started laughing. Not just any laugh, but a full-body, straight-from-the-soul belly laugh that seemed to contain all the joy in the universe.

In that moment, everything else disappeared. The to-do lists. The work stress. The background noise of life. All that existed was this pure, perfect sound of our daughter's laughter echoing off the bathroom walls, my wife's eyes meeting mine in shared amazement. In all my adventures with meditation, psychedelics, and seeking - I've never experienced anything more pure or perfect than this.

You can have career successes, travel the world, achieve great things - but nothing quite compares to these simple moments of pure connection and joy with your child.

Through my daughter's eyes, I'm rediscovering the magic in the mundane:

• snowflakes falling become tiny miracles drifting from the sky

• her excited squeals and wiggles at the sight of our dog

• a simple game of peek-a-boo becomes an adventure in connection

• coming home to her smile makes me feel like the most important person in the universe

• her excited wiggle when she hears her favourite song turns any moment into a dance party

This isn't about regressing. It's about remembering. About reconnecting with a part of yourself that got buried under years of "adulting." It's about learning that maybe those simple moments of pure joy we experienced as children weren't childish at all - maybe they were glimpses of what life is really about.

The beautiful part? This joy is contagious. When you witness your child experiencing something for the first time - feeling rain on their face, tasting a new food, discovering their own reflection - you can't help but see the world through their eyes. Everything becomes new again. Everything becomes possible again.

And sometimes, in moments like that bath time laugh, you realize that all those things you used to chase - success, achievement, recognition - pale in comparison to the simple, pure joy of making your child laugh.

The Truth About Time

Having a child transforms your relationship with time in ways you never expected.

Before my daughter, I could waste hours scrolling on my phone or binge-watching Netflix without a second thought. I'd fall into YouTube rabbit holes, play video games, fill my days with endless "content consumption." Always feeling busy but rarely feeling fulfilled.

Then came fatherhood's unexpected gift: the pressure of less time made me better at using it.

Work has this sneaky way of expanding to fill whatever space you give it. Before fatherhood, I could always find "one more thing" to do, one more email to send, one more task to complete. Now? I've learned the art of essential productivity - getting what NEEDS to be done and nothing more. Because every minute spent on non-essential work is a minute away from my daughter's smile.

This new relationship with time isn't about scarcity - it's about clarity. Every moment feels precious. Every decision about how to spend time becomes intentional. No more mindless consumption, no more "killing time." Time has become too valuable to kill.

My life might look boring to some now. Less late nights at bars, no marathon gaming sessions, no spontaneous weekend trips. My world has narrowed to what matters most: family, food, exercise, reading, writing. But in this simplicity, I've found a depth of satisfaction I never knew existed.

Time hasn't become more scarce - it's become more sacred. Each moment carries more weight, more meaning, more potential for joy or growth or connection.

The greatest irony? By having more constraints on my time, I've never felt more free. Free from the endless scroll. Free from the constant consumption. Free to focus on what truly matters.

This isn't a story about having less time - it's a story about finally understanding what time is worth.

A Few Words for Future Parents

If you're preparing for parenthood, here's what I wish someone had told me:

1. Get all the sleep you can now. Having a baby is absolute magic, but your sleep will get completely reorganized. There's no way around it - embrace it.

2. Raising a child is a two-player game, and it's the most intense game you'll ever play. Make sure you find a partner who is truly committed and genuinely wants children. This journey requires teamwork, patience, and unwavering support for each other.

3. Do what you need to feel prepared - set up the nursery, buy the tiny clothes, research the best strollers. But understand that nothing will truly prepare you for what's coming. Be open-minded, let go of rigid expectations, and take it moment by moment, day by day.

4. Trust your instincts, especially the mother's. We've evolved for thousands and thousands of years to have and raise children. There's ancient, mystical knowledge locked in your DNA about how to be a parent and care for your offspring. Listen to this inner wisdom - it's often more valuable than any article, video, influencer, or sometimes even doctor's recommendation.

Remember: The fact that everyone has an opinion about parenting doesn't mean you need to listen to all of them. Your journey will be uniquely yours.

Any of my readers also parents? Or interested in becoming a parent? If so, I would love to connect.

Just hit reply to this email and drop me a note.

Cheers,

Darren.

P.S. This one is dedicated to my two forever Valentine's, my wife Dunia and our beautiful daughter Rosie.