I remember when we found out that she was pregnant. I felt two kinds of feelings that didn't mix: an euphoria that wasn't just joy, it was a kind of confusing ecstasy - and along with that a kind of mourning, because I knew that the Arthur I was before would necessarily have to die.

 

I was so scared when I first saw the meconium. I knew what it was, but I'd never seen that substance, which was in the baby’s belly after having been digesting amniotic fluid for 9 months. It was a sticky black tar, it didn’t look like anything I've ever seen in my life. I was so scared when I opened the diaper. I thought there was something very wrong.

 

I had a masculinity crisis when she was born that had nothing to do with me. It had to do with how I was going to be an important male figure for her. I'm worried about being the male referential for her - which is a figure that comes with many historical problems and processes. I don't want to be oppressive.

 

The greatest difficulty was to create a network of empathy with the people around me. I hthought this would happen naturally. I saw that our female friends were always available, asking questions, had a genuine interest. The male friends, however, not so much. It was a bit difficult to go through that process without that support.