Wine, Sara, and Cyndi Lauper

An evening of single fatherhood, exhaustion, and emotional truth —

A night that began on the day I was more tired than I thought a human being could be.

I did something I never imagined I would do as a parent. Something that, had I heard another parent did it, I might have raised an eyebrow — or even judged.

But it happened.

And it became one of the most beautiful evenings I’ve shared with my daughter, Sara.

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Two Days Earlier: Vaccines, Fever, and Exhaustion

Two days earlier, Sara — two months old — had received her routine vaccination.

The reaction was immediate: a noticeable drop in appetite and a mild fever.

And I — a 52-year-old single father, already prone to anxiety — found myself constantly alert, worried, and deeply exhausted.

Physically and emotionally.

Two days of little sleep.

Endless temperature checks.

Repeated attempts to soothe her.

Complete attentiveness.

I did everything that needed to be done, of course. That was never in question.

But somewhere along the way, both my body and my mind began to give in.

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The Bottle, the Guilt, and the Pour

That evening, as Sara’s condition had already started to improve, I was still completely spent — functioning on autopilot.

Like a screen saver.

It was around seven o’clock, and I knew that if I didn’t find a way to gather myself, I would have nothing real left to give her.

So I went to the refrigerator.

I opened the door and looked at a cheap bottle of white wine — the kind you don’t buy for the pleasure of it.

Even in that moment, my mind went into overdrive: guilt, moral questions, self-judgment.

All the things a “good” parent is supposed to feel.

And still — I poured.

Carefully at first. Then a little less carefully.

Into a mug that usually holds tea.

I promised myself this blog would be unfiltered, so here is the truth:

It was a little more than half a glass.

I took a hesitant sip.

Then another.

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Cyndi Lauper Instead of Baby Songs

After that, I went to Sara, lifted her from the bouncer she had clearly grown tired of, and held her at eye level.

We looked at each other and smiled, as we often do.

And then something happened.

Instead of turning on the usual children’s songs on YouTube — the kind everyone plays (yes, I know, at two months old it’s mostly just noise) — I felt an urge to share something from my own world.

Something that truly moves me.

I connected a small speaker to my phone, and the choice was immediate:

Cyndi Lauper’s ballads.

I sat on the couch, Sara in my arms, and sang to her — quietly, not always in tune, but with my whole heart — True Colors, Heading West, Time After Time, and other songs that have accompanied me since childhood.

I had never sung like that before.

I had never felt so open.

A small confession: Cyndi Lauper has always been my favorite singer.

No other artist has touched me the way she has.

I was ten years old when she first entered my life, and she stayed with me through childhood, adolescence, moments of joy, and moments of pain.

True Colors reached exactly the place where a lonely boy needed to be seen.

That evening, with my daughter in my arms, I felt that I was revealing my true self to her for the first time.

Not the functioning father.

Not the responsible one.

But the human being.

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Formula, Burps, and a Question for You

Sara, for her part, was unusually calm.

She looked at me with bright, attentive eyes — not typical for her.

Maybe she didn’t understand the words, but something in the voice, in the emotion, made its way through.

It felt like a perfect connection.

For a moment, I felt whole.

Connected to myself, connected to the world, and above all, connected to the most important thing that has ever happened to me: Sara.

About an hour later, it was time to eat. Her appetite was slowly returning.

She finished her formula, released a few impressive burps, and I held her before laying her down to sleep.

As I watched her drift off, I whispered a quiet thank-you — for this miracle named Sara, for this evening, and yes, even a small thank-you to Cyndi Lauper.

And now that you know the story, I’ll ask you:

Was I wrong to have that glass of wine?

I don’t regret it.
But I’d love to hear what you think.

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More From Sara & Me

If you’d like to read more about Sara and our life together, here are two more posts you might enjoy:

The Dictator and the Devoted Servant
A Donut Filled with Formula

Beyond the Blog

Alongside this blog, I also give talks about late fatherhood, surrogacy, and the emotional journey of becoming a parent later in life.