In a small, dimly lit room, a man cradled a newborn, his newborn, feeling the weight of the world in his arms. The baby was helpless, completely dependent on him for everything. Overwhelmed by his new role as a father, the man was seized by a surge of panic.

The baby's cries were incessant, each wail cutting through the man's heart. He tried everything to soothe the child, but nothing seemed to work. The room felt as if it were closing in, the walls echoing the baby's relentless cries. Pacing back and forth, his mind was tormented with thoughts of inadequacy. "What if I can't do this?" he wondered desperately.

But he could, and he did. I know because I am that baby, now a father myself, holding my own newborn son in my arms. Pacing in my living room, I am gripped by the same wave of panic that once consumed my father, continuing the unbroken chain of love, fear, and hope that connected my father to me and his father to him.