Since her birthday—and I mean the literal day of her birth—it’s been a challenge. Not just the sleep-deprived, bottle-washing, diaper-changing kind of challenge, but a deeper, more personal one: holding on to a sense of self while stepping into the role of a new parent.

Becoming a parent is like being handed a new identity without a handbook. One day, you’re who you’ve always been. The next, you’re “Dad.” And while it’s beautiful and life-altering, it also comes with a quiet fear of waking up in the morning, looking in the mirror, and not know who that is staring back at you.

Mika and I have been working very hard to support each other through that. We check in often—not just about baby stuff, but about us. About the people we were before Lyla came along. We’ve made it a point to encourage each other to reconnect with the hobbies and friendships that took a backseat during pregnancy and the whirlwind of the first couple of months.

For me, it’s been a process of trying to merge past Dave—the guy who spent hours tinkering with a 3D printer, deep in the world of CAD models and small, detailed projects—with Dad Dave, who is on burp patrol and diaper duty, and who makes sure the dishwasher gets unloaded and Mika gets a nap.

There’s this ever-present mental buzz now: Be aware of Lyla. It’s like a sixth sense always pinging in the background. But I’m learning that it doesn’t have to be turned up to 11 all the time—especially when I’m not alone in this. Mika is incredible about giving me time and space when she sees I need to recharge. She nudges me toward the things I love, the things that remind me of who I’ve always been.

Take the 3D printer, for example. It’s been sitting silent for months. I kept telling myself it was just easier to leave it off for now. No time, no focus, no energy. Maybe when Lyla is older. But lately, I’ve been feeling that creative itch again—just the tiniest spark of motivation to dive back in.

Gaming is another big one. Gone are the days of blitzing through chores and sinking hours into Minecraft or Call of Duty. Now, Mika and I game in shifts. One of us rocks Lyla while the other sneaks in a match or two. It’s not the same, but it’s enough. We’ve found ways to adapt our hobbies to fit this new rhythm, to keep a connection to ourselves and each other.

Of course, everything will shift again when I go back to work full-time. That thought hangs in the air like an unwritten chapter. But for now, I’m doing my best to blend the old and the new. I’m still the guy who geeks out over tech and games and horror movies. I’m just doing it with a baby monitor in the background and a bottle drying in the rack on the counter.

I’ve come to realize that parenthood doesn’t require you to erase who you were—it asks you to evolve. And as messy and imperfect as that process is, it’s also kind of beautiful.