ReHealth Dads

3:30 a.m. changes the rest of your day.

This week, my son woke up at 3:30 a.m. after soiling his diaper. Later that morning, our ten-year-old fridge finally gave out, and two important work projects didn't move an inch.

I knew exactly why they weren't getting done.

What I hadn't accepted was that they weren't supposed to get done that day.

Sometimes the most important work isn't happening behind a laptop. It's taking care of the people and problems that need you most.

I wrote more about the difference between awareness and acceptance in this week's article.

Link in bio.

I walked into my doctor's office expecting a routine prescription refill.

Instead, I walked out with my blood pressure medication doubled.

I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that. Part of me thought we'd be talking about reducing my medication by now, not increasing it. But as the appointment sank in, I realized this wasn't just about me anymore.

I have a wife, an autistic son, a newborn, and a lot of years I still want with them. They don't just need me to love them. They need me to be healthy enough to show up for them.

That appointment became the wake-up call I needed.

I wrote about what happened, what my blood pressure numbers have been telling me all year, and the 90-day challenge I've set for myself.

Link in comments.

Three simple words changed the course of my afternoon.

After an exhausting morning and three appointments with my son, everything unraveled when he had a toileting accident in a waiting room. By the time I got him cleaned up, I could feel my frustration taking over.

Then my mom quietly said, "Remember to breathe."

Those words reminded me that the greatest thing I can bring into a difficult moment isn't a better plan. It's a regulated nervous system.

I wrote more about that afternoon, and how one small pause changed everything that followed.

Link in comments.

One sentence has been bouncing around in my head lately:

"Sometimes I have to remind myself that 'not yet' and 'never' are two very different things."

The last few weeks have been hard. My health has slipped, life has felt overwhelming, and it became easy to wonder if I was falling too far behind.

Then I looked at my son.

For four years, I've never believed "never" when it comes to him. Every milestone has come on his own timeline, and recently he said "Mommy," said the number four, and kissed his baby brother for the first time.

It made me realize I wasn't extending that same grace to myself.

This week's article is about choosing "not yet" over "never." The link is in the comments.

Some of the biggest lessons I've learned as a father happened in places most people would never think twice about.

For months, my son and I walked down six flights of stairs together while he learned to alternate his feet. We also spent more than two years working toward something as simple as using a pair of scissors without frustration.

Those experiences changed how I think about progress, not just for him, but for myself.

Instead of waiting for one big milestone, I've learned to celebrate the smaller victories. A week of consistent workouts. Healthier choices. Getting back on track after a difficult weekend. Those small wins are what make the bigger ones possible.

I share more about what my son has taught me about progress and persistence in this week's article.

The link is in the comments.

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of being a guest on my friend and mentor Zack's podcast. It ended up being one of the most meaningful conversations I've had in a long time.

One question Zack asked me has stayed with me ever since.

He asked me what my son has taught me.

My son has taught me to celebrate progress that most people would overlook. He's taught me that slowing down is sometimes more important than getting something done. More recently, he's been teaching me to put aside my own timeline because, in that moment, he needs his dad more than he needs another countdown.

I think we spend so much time trying to teach our children that we rarely stop to appreciate how much they're teaching us.

I shared a few reflections from our conversation in this week's article, and I've embedded the full podcast episode there if you'd like to listen.

Link in comments.

A few weeks ago, I saw a Facebook post from a father named Justin.

In six months, he had lost nearly 60 pounds.

That caught my attention, but it wasn't the reason I wanted to talk to him.

After hearing his story, I realized the most important transformation wasn't the weight loss itself. It was the community he found, the systems he built, and the example he wanted to set for his son.

In this first edition of ReHealth Dad of the Month, I share the story behind the transformation and why it offers an important lesson for fathers who feel stuck.

Link in comments.

One question has haunted me ever since my son was diagnosed with autism:

What’s going to happen to him when I’m gone?

It’s not something I think about every day, but it’s always there, quietly parked in the back of my mind.

Who will understand him?
Who will advocate for him?
Who will help him navigate a world that isn’t always built for him?

Those thoughts played a bigger role in our decision to have a second child than I realized.

A few days ago, my wife and I welcomed our second son into the world.

In this week's article, I share the story behind his name, the special connection it has to his big brother, and the hope that guided our decision.

Link in comments.