I’ve heard it from friends, seen it in parenting groups, and honestly, I felt it myself in those early weeks with my son. That strange paralysis when you’re holding your own baby and thinking, “What am I supposed to do now?” It sounds absurd when you say it out loud.
But it’s real. And it’s more common among dads than anyone wants to admit.
Here’s what I’ve learned: that feeling isn’t about incompetence. It’s about not having a clear entry point. Moms often get pulled into caregiving through feeding, through recovery, through the sheer biology of postpartum life.
Dads can feel like they’re standing at the edge of something, waiting for an invitation that never comes. The good news? You don’t need an invitation. You need rituals. Simple, repeatable moments that become yours. And once you have them, the bond builds itself.
1) The morning pickup
This one changed everything for me. When the baby wakes up, be the one who goes in. Not every day if schedules don’t allow it, but as often as you can.
That first moment of the day, when they see your face and realize the night is over, is powerful. You become the signal that a new day has started.
There’s no technique here. You just show up. Lift them out of the crib, say good morning, maybe narrate what you see out the window. “Look, it’s still dark. The birds aren’t even awake yet.”
It sounds small. But over time, it becomes a ritual they expect and look forward to. And that expectation is the foundation of attachment.
Research supports this kind of consistent, responsive caregiving. According to the CDC’s early childhood development guidelines, predictable routines and responsive interactions help infants develop secure attachments.
The morning pickup is both of those things wrapped into one quiet moment.
2) The diaper station takeover
I know. Diapers aren’t glamorous. But hear me out. Diaper changes happen constantly in the first year, which means they’re a massive opportunity for connection that often gets overlooked. If dad becomes the diaper guy, even just during certain windows of the day, something shifts.
You’re not just cleaning up a mess. You’re making eye contact. You’re talking to them about what you’re doing. You’re being gentle with their body in a way that teaches them they’re safe with you.
My son used to kick like crazy on the changing table, and I’d narrate it like a sports broadcast. “And he’s going for the double leg kick! The crowd goes wild!” Ridiculous? Sure. But he’d laugh, and I’d laugh, and suddenly we had a thing.
Own a caregiving task completely. Not as a helper, but as the person who handles it. That ownership matters more than you might think.
3) The neighborhood walk
Babies don’t need entertainment. They need presence. And one of the simplest ways to offer that is a walk. Strap them into a carrier or stroller and just go. Around the block. To the coffee shop. Nowhere in particular.
I started doing evening walks when my daughter was a few months old, partly to give my wife a break and partly because I didn’t know what else to do.
But those walks became sacred. I’d point out trees, dogs, passing cars. She didn’t understand a word, but she was absorbing my voice, my rhythm, the feeling of being close to me while the world moved around us.
As noted by Dr. Jack Shonkoff of Harvard’s Center on the Developing Child, these kinds of “serve and return” interactions are critical for brain development.
When you talk to your baby and respond to their coos or expressions, you’re literally building neural pathways. A walk is the perfect setting for that back-and-forth.
4) The bath time ritual
Water has a way of resetting everyone’s mood. Babies included. If bath time can become dad’s domain, even a few nights a week, it creates a predictable pocket of connection that both of you can count on.
You don’t need to make it elaborate. Warm water, a washcloth, maybe a rubber duck. The goal is presence, not performance. Sing a little if you’re comfortable. Talk about their toes. Let them splash. The sensory experience combined with your calm attention creates a kind of intimacy that’s hard to replicate elsewhere.
I’ll be honest, bath time with a slippery baby used to stress me out. But once I relaxed into it, it became one of my favorite parts of the day. There’s something about a baby in warm water, looking up at you with total trust, that puts everything else in perspective.
5) The bedtime story (even before they understand words)
You might think reading to a newborn is pointless. They can’t follow a plot. They don’t know what a bunny is. But that’s not what storytime is about at this stage. It’s about your voice, your closeness, and the ritual of winding down together.
Pick a book, any book, and read it to them before bed. The same one every night if you want. Repetition is comforting for babies. They start to recognize the rhythm of the words, the cadence of your voice, the feeling of being held while something calm and predictable happens.
The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends reading aloud to children from infancy, not because they understand the content, but because it supports language development and strengthens the parent-child bond. When dad is the one holding the book, that bond grows in his direction too.
6) The solo outing
This one takes some courage, especially early on. But taking the baby out alone, even for thirty minutes, is a game changer. To the grocery store. To a park bench. To grab a coffee while they nap in the stroller.
Why does this matter? Because it forces you to figure things out without backup. You learn what’s in the diaper bag. You learn how to soothe them in public. You learn that you can handle it. And that confidence feeds back into everything else you do as a dad.
I remember the first time I took my daughter to the farmer’s market alone. She was maybe three months old. I was terrified she’d have a meltdown and I wouldn’t know what to do. She did fuss a little.
I bounced her, talked to her, and we made it through. Walking back to the car, I felt like I’d climbed a small mountain. That feeling stays with you.
7) The comfort role during hard moments
This is the one that takes the longest to build, but it’s the most important. When the baby is upset, really upset, can dad be a source of comfort? Not just a placeholder until mom arrives, but a genuine safe harbor?
This doesn’t happen automatically. It happens because of all the other rituals. Because you’ve been there in the mornings. Because you’ve done the walks and the baths and the stories. Because your presence has become familiar and trustworthy.
When my son was teething badly a few months ago, there were nights when only I could settle him. Not because I had some magic trick, but because we’d built something. He knew my smell, my voice, the way I held him. That knowing is the bond.
And it came from showing up, over and over, in small ways.
Closing thoughts
If your husband says he doesn’t know what to do with the baby, don’t hand him a parenting book. Hand him a ritual. One simple, repeatable thing that becomes his. Then another. Then another.
Bonding isn’t a single moment of connection. It’s the accumulation of hundreds of small moments that tell a baby, “This person is safe. This person shows up. This person is mine.” Dads are fully capable of being that person. Sometimes they just need a way in.
And here’s the thing about these rituals: they don’t just build a bond with the baby. They build a dad who knows he belongs in his child’s life.
Who doesn’t feel like a backup parent. Who has his own relationship with his kid, separate from mom, rooted in his own presence and care. That’s the bond that lasts a lifetime. And it starts with something as simple as being the one who walks in when the baby wakes up.
