Dear Dad: Michael Venutolo-Mantovani
The fifth edition of Dear Dad where Michael Venutolo-Mantovani writes a letter to himself.
Welcome to Dear Dad
"Dear Dad is a space where fathers reflect on their journey, sharing the wisdom they wish they had before becoming a dad. Each week, a different dad opens up about his experiences, lessons, and insights. This week's letter is from Michael, who reflects on Fear, uncertainty, transformation and imperfection. If you could go back and give yourself advice before fatherhood, what would you say? Share your thoughts in the comments."
Introduction by Gareth Wall
Hey there, friend,
I’m so glad you’re here, taking the time to have a read. You know, when I first became a parent—when my wife and I brought our daughter home—I had this massive, sobering jolt. It hit me square in the chest: “Wow, I really have to grow up now.” Gone were the days of coasting on the easygoing, free-spirited version of adulthood I’d been enjoying. Suddenly, I wasn’t just looking out for myself (or even just for my wife)—I had this tiny, incredible human who needed me for absolutely everything. It was exciting and it was terrifying, all at once.
That’s why I love what Michael’s written in his letter to his future self. He’s completely open about the fears and worries that practically all new parents wrestle with. Becoming a dad (or mum) can be messy and imperfect, and Michael reminds us that we don’t have to pretend otherwise. Heaven knows there’s already enough pressure on us to be “perfect” parents without us piling more onto our own shoulders.
It’s so refreshing to read something where a fellow parent just lays it all out, saying, “Yep, it’s magical, but it’s also bloody hard, and sometimes my kids drive me crazy.” We need more of that honesty. We need spaces where we can admit that it isn’t all rainbows and bedtime stories—where we can own up to the fact that sometimes we have those fleeting moments where we doubt ourselves or even feel like our child’s nappy is out to get us.
Michael’s writing is the perfect antidote to the polished, picture-perfect fantasy of parenthood that can leave us feeling like we’re failing at every turn. And I’m all about that honesty too. If we talk openly about how exhausting, confusing, and occasionally maddening raising children can be, we make it safer for other parents to say, “Yeah, me too.” That sense of connection and acceptance is invaluable.
So if you’ve ever felt that nagging fear—“Am I cut out for this?” “Am I doing any of this right?”—or if you’ve simply had one of those days where you’ve hidden in the kitchen for two minutes of peace, Michael’s words will feel like a breath of fresh air. Check out his Substack. His no-nonsense, keep-it-real style resonates deeply with anyone who's waded through the ups and downs of parenthood. I promise you’ll see yourself in his letters, no matter how old your kids are.
Thanks for being part of this conversation and for giving yourself the space to reflect. You’re not alone in the wonderful chaos of it all. That’s one of the best gifts we can give each other as parents—just showing up and saying, “I get it, and I’ve been there.”
So grab a cuppa, settle in, and let’s jump into Michael’s awesome letter. I think you’ll find it’s the comforting, encouraging nudge you didn’t even know you needed.
Gareth
P.S. Look after the mums in your life today. They sure are the best of us.
Dear Dad,
Hey man,
You’re pretty fucking terrified right now.
First kid coming in a few weeks. You know your life is going to change, you just don’t know how. And, as we both know, not knowing is where the fear lives.
You’re worried that you’re going to be a shitty father. You’re worried that you’re going to be a failure in life, that you never should have left your stable, amazing job to hit the road with your fledgling rock-and-roll band. You’re worried that having a baby is going to hurt your wife, the person you love most. You’re worried that you’re going to be too selfish to be a good father. You’re worried about the exhaustion that every parent has promised you is coming.
Notice how that first sentence is a statement, not a question? It’s a statement because I know how fucking terrified you are.
I know because it’s me. You. I’m us. Well, at least, I used to be you. Now I’m me. We’re the same. But we’re also different. Actually, we’re very different. In fact, the man writing this letter is, in many ways, nothing at all like the man reading it.
The man writing this letter is way more patient in many ways. But he’s also way less patient. Mostly, he doesn’t have time for bullshit. Because, if having kids does anything to and for a person, it’s help them to abandon the anchor of bullshit, to only focus on what really matters.
But enough about me. I’m doing great. We’re actually didn’t become a total failure like you’re worrying right now. We’ve actually been quite successful over the last seven years. I won’t tell you how or why. I’ll let that be a surprise. But just know that we’re doing just fine.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. There are so many things we need to get better at. There are so many ways we can be a better father, a better husband, a better man. But the gulf between the person you thought you might be and the person I am is pretty fucking wide. And so, in that sense, we’re doing great.
But let’s get back to you. You’re pretty fucking terrified right now. But, if I remember correctly, you’re not really showing it. Maybe you’re saying it, which has always been your style, open book and all. But you’re good at not showing it.
Let’s get into it.
First, let’s get back to that shitty father thing.
Yeah. You’re going to be a shitty dad We’re all shitty parents. Sometimes. But sometimes, you’re going to be a great dad. Sometimes, you’re going to be the best dad in the entire universe. Here’s the thing: most days, you fall somewhere in between. Why? Because most days we all fall somewhere in between. The key is to have most days closer to the great dad than the shitty one. Because we’re all shitty parents sometimes.
Our father once told us that the widest gap in the world is the gap between how easy it is to be a bad parent and how hard it is to be a good one. He was right.
It’s going to be so easy to stay the course of who you were, so easy to not strive to be better. So easy to accept mediocrity in your fatherhood, your husbandhood, and your work.
But you know what else is going to be easy? Way easier than you can possibly imagine right now?
Putting them first.
In fact, that might be the craziest part about it, the part that no one tells you. The part where, all of a sudden, you don’t care so much about you. All of your selfishness just disappears and in its place is the need to keep this new creature of yours quiet, calm, and happy. And, in a way, that makes everything so much easier. But don’t worry. That part of you comes back. The part that wants to focus on your own shit. Slowly and then all of a sudden. It seems like it takes about seven years. By then, you can shift a little bit of the focus back to yourself.
But here’s another secret: you won’t. You’ll still be fascinated by them (oh, right. Spoiler alert: you have another one in a few years) and still want to include them in every single thing you do and every single thing you experience.
Next, let’s talk about the pain. I don’t want to get into the nitty gritty but yeah, it’s gonna hurt her. And not just the pain of labor. The hurt lasts for years and years. Her body changes and it won’t go back to what it was and that hurts her emotionally as much as it does physically, despite you telling her constantly that you love her no matter what she looks like. But for her, it’s not so much looks as it is feeling and she feels like a stranger in her own body. All I can tell you there is to shut up and listen but don’t stop reminding her how much you love her body, no matter what it looks like. But yeah, man. It’s gonna hurt. Women are way tougher than men. But you already knew that.
What about failure and success?
Well, like I said, I don’t want to spoil it for you but rest assured, you’re going to be fine. And even when you’re the most fine, even when you’re doing things you never thought possible, you’ll still wonder whether or not you’re a failure. I think that’s part of what makes us good at what we do. We’re always trying to outrun the failure. It’s why we’ve enjoyed our successes. I don’t want to spoil it. But it’s coming. And it’s amazing.
Now let’s talk about the exhaustion. Yeah. Dude. You’re gonna be tired. And you’re not going to sleep for years. And by the time you do sleep, guess what? Your second kid is going to be here.
But you’ve been tired before.
Hell, you were tired for a decade, driving around the country like a jerk, drinking too much and not sleeping enough. Rock and roll, and all. You know what tired is. You know how to handle it. You’re prepared for it.
But the one thing you’re absolutely not prepared for is your capacity for love. It’s pretty wild, man. You have these things, right, these creatures that have totally redefined your life, and you love them more than anything you’ve ever loved in the entire world. And then, this amazing thing happens.
Somehow, every day, you wake up and you love them more.
And you wonder when your love cup is going to be full. Because it feels full. It feels like you can’t possibly love any more than you do right now.
And then, somehow, every day, you wake up and you love them more.
You’re gonna be fine, pal. It’s gonna be hard. But you’re gonna be fine. I promise you.
We’re gonna be fine.
Love,
You
Meet Michael Venutolo-Mantovani
🧑 Who they are: Michael Venutolo-Mantovani is a freelance writer and musician who has contributed to the New York Times, National Geographic, GQ, Wired, and several others. He's also a dad to two amazing kids. He publishes the weekly Substack Being a Dad is Hard as F*ck, which fosters honest and earnest conversations about and around fatherhood. Michael lives with his wife and their children in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.
🌍 Where to find them: Being a Dad is Hard as F*ck
💬 What did this letter make you think about? Drop a comment below— Michael will be here to reply!
Want to Write Your Own ‘Dear Dad’ Letter?
✍️ I’d love to feature your story in an upcoming ‘Dear Dad’ post. If you’d like to write a letter to your past self before becoming a dad, drop me a DM.
📩 Make sure you don’t miss future letters—subscribe here to ‘Be a Super Dad’ on Substack.
Reflections on Fatherhood & Coaching
"Fatherhood is a journey, and we all figure it out as we go. Through my coaching, I help dads build stronger relationships at home, communicate better, and feel more confident in their role. If you're looking for support in your fatherhood journey, check out my coaching sessions here. Let’s build the kind of dad you want to be." Book a free Dad to Dad session.
🔹 Want more dad-focused insights? Read another ‘Dear Dad’ letter or explore my latest blog posts.
Please share Be a Super Dad with a friend or family member. Let’s build our dad community.
 | A guest post by
|