Between a Nightmare and Reality | A Dream About Blood, a Memory from Surgery, and the Strain of Single Fatherhood at 52

A disturbing nightmare in which I was urinating and spitting blood continues to trouble me weeks after I woke up. Trying to understand its meaning leads me to an old physical memory from a surgery I once underwent—and to deeper reflections about the emotional weight and responsibility of being a 52-year-old single father to a six-month-old baby. Somewhere between dream and reality, I try to understand what my body and mind might be telling me—and find the strength to keep going, for Sara.

Violence Between Children – Every Parent’s Nightmare | A Father’s Thoughts at the Playground

A violent argument between two young girls at a neighborhood playground unexpectedly stirs deep memories from my own childhood and raises troubling questions about parenting. Watching the scene unfold beside my infant daughter, Sara, I find myself confronting every parent’s fear: will my child one day become a victim of violence—or could she become the one who causes it?

Sara Cast as John Lennon | A Single Father, 52 Years of Loneliness and the Surprising Discovery of Love

After 52 years of emotional isolation and a life largely disconnected from the world, I became a single father through surrogacy. Sarah’s birth forced me to confront everything I had spent a lifetime avoiding — love, emotion, responsibility, and connection. In an unexpected way, she ended up teaching me the same simple truth John Lennon once shared with the world: All you need is love.

What Is Love? | A Single Father’s Answer After 52 Years Without It

For most of my life, love was something I felt disconnected from. When I decided to become a father through surrogacy at the age of forty-eight, I was forced to confront a question I had avoided for decades: was I even capable of love? Six months after my daughter Sara was born, I am beginning to understand the answer.

Infantilism | Growing Up at 52, Together With My Daughter

In this personal reflection, I admit something I’ve never been ashamed of: emotionally, I’ve been stuck somewhere around the age of twelve. Strangely enough, that same childish side now helps me connect deeply with my baby daughter, Sara. But years from now, when she reaches the age of twelve herself, will that still bring us closer—or will she be embarrassed by the father who never quite grew up? Maybe, just maybe, that moment will become a turning point for both of us.