First-Born Energy vs. Tenth-Book Energy: What Discernment Looks Like as a Dad and Creator
It’s okay if your parental or creative fire isn’t always at maximum. Here’s what I’m learning.
I used to think I’d always show up with the same white-hot energy I had when my first child was born or when my first book baby was released into the world.
That version of me stayed up until one a.m. to google baby sleep regressions and took 200 photos of every milestone. I attacked every creative project like it was the one that would finally matter, or win the Oscar.
Now that I have two kids (and a puppy) and a shelf of books behind me, I’ve noticed something: the tenth-book energy is completely different.
It’s not worse. It’s not failure. It’s discernment.
I’m learning to trust that this discernment might be one of the most important things I’ve done as both a dad and a creator. (Though I still take 200 photos).
Recently, I’ve started asking myself a set of gentle questions that have brought real freedom.
8 Gentle Questions for Discernment as a Parent and Creator
Copy and paste these Qs into your Notes App or bookmark this page for those moments when you’re starting to feel the burnout, have a creative opportunity you're unsure about, or receive an invitation as a family that sounds fun but will take up a lot of energy.
Here are the Qs:
Is this something that requires the first-born fire, or can it be stewarded well with tenth-book steadiness?
Am I doing this out of love and calling, or because I assume others think “good parents” or “good creatives” should do it?
What does my current capacity (with family and home life, work, and creative goals) actually allow?
If I say yes to this, what will I have to say no to?
Does this project or parenting moment need my excellence, or simply my faithful presence?
Am I trusting God with the outcomes, or am I trying to control results through my own effort (again)?
Will my future self (and my spouse and my kids) thank me for the pace I’m keeping right now?
What small, consistent act of kindness or creativity is being whispered to me right now?
What This Looks Like In Real Life
These questions aren’t theoretical for me.
Last month I almost jumped head first into a new creative project (which I often do because I love spontaneous creativity when the idea strikes hot). It would have required the kind of white-knuckle intensity I used to bring projects—that fear of missing out on a future opportunity because I’m not leveraging the present creative flash.
When I asked question #7—Will my future self (and my spouse and my kids) thank me for the pace I’m keeping right now?—the answer was pretty clear: it would mean more early mornings busy with something unnecessary, and evenings in the summer distracted while the weather’s warm and my kids want to play outside, not to mention the quiet time I protect for prayer and reading. I put a pin in the project. It stung for about 48 hours (What am I missing? What about the potential Oscar…or, in this case, Webby or Emmy?)
It would have taken up lots of time in a space I don’t know well, while putting proven side-hustle projects that bring real value to my family by the wayside. After shelving the idea, there came a deep relief.
It’s not like I’m not still creating. It’s not like I don’t have a hundred ideas. The time for this one wasn’t right.
Something else I’ve done recently was an answer to question #4—If I say yes to this, what will I have to say no to?— that ended up freeing my time to allow room and outlet for some of the creativity I desire to pursue.
I was saying yes to X (formerly Twitter) a lot. Doomscrolling at night, reading an endless stream of posts. Keeping tabs on seemingly everything going on in the world. It was hours in a week that I could use to seek quiet, find solace, engage with friends or family, to create.
I realized that I was saying yes to the wrong thing and decided to say no to it instead. I check very infrequently now, and have been refreshed by leaving the churn and swirl of X on the periphery. It’s opened up precious time; it’s also decluttered my brain.
How to Know When to Use Each Energy
By starting to ask questions like this intentionally, I’m quietly changing how I show up in both fatherhood and creativity.
Recently I watched my 9-year-old son sit on the couch and willingly read one of my books. I played it cool until I didn’t. He wasn’t born yet when I first wrote the book, so this was an out-of-body moment for me. A surreal thrill to see him get pulled into a world I’ve imagined.
When I was writing the book, perhaps the only thing I wanted to do or to be known for was to be a writer. But over time that’s changed.
Writing still really matters to me, but titles like author, screenwriter, producer, are further down the list, below husband, dad. Not because I don’t love those titles, constantly write things down, or imagine ways to bring the words to life. I love creative output, but it’s not everything. And that shift is freeing me up to not take everything so seriously.
Can you relate?
Are there things in your life—ways of describing or naming or understanding yourself— that no longer take up all the space, or have shifted and changed shape?
When First-Born Energy Is Still Needed
Sometimes our kids (and our work) need the full, Oscar-worthy first-born energy. I have two kids and many books (both books and kids take work!) When I look back at what it was like to leave the hospital with the firstborn versus the second, I recall a big difference.
With our son, I remember the moment when the doctor cleared us to leave the hospital. My wife an I looked at each other like deer caught in the lights and asked, “What do we do now?”
We had to just leave, with a new life in a rear-facing car seat, out into the world: a family. It was all kinds of excitement and overwhelming. Every single thing about it was new.
Because we had that lived experience with the first, leaving the hospital with our daughter a few years later was completely different. We still had all the wonderful new firsts with her, but because we’d walked through a few years of parenting, it was a different kind of overwhelming.
Things we spent energy worrying about as first-time parents didn’t take up as much energy or space. We had the baby things, a baby-proofed house, we knew how to bathe and swaddle (with the right temperature of water), had figured out a routine.
First-Born vs Tenth-Book Energy in Real Life
As creatives and faith-filled parents, I think we grow in discernment and learn when to give first-born energy (polished, high-effort, debut-level) to things and when to give tenth-book energy (honest, sustainable, rooted).
Both are holy. Both are needed.
Don’t get me wrong! I’m not saying reserve the best care for the first child and ignore the second. As a second child in my family’s birth order I speak for all second children everywhere and say: Pay attention to us!
What I mean is that not every parenting moment or creative endeavour can or should have the same level of output. Some moments are more foundational, require deep planning and work, special attention and care. Other moments as a dad and as a creative demand less.
Thank God!
Why Most of Life Happens in Tenth-Book Territory
As writers (and especially as someone writing regular sketches for 231 Worship), it’s easy to think every project needs first-born energy. The polished debut. The big effort. The pressure to make it perfect.
But most of life, and most of the best work, happens in tenth-book territory:
The sketches written between the grocery aisle and the car ride home.
The sweet dadlife moment that happens on ordinary Taco Tuesdays.
The poems that emerge while carrying both kids’ backpacks up the hill on the way to school like a human coat rack.
I’ve noticed that God doesn’t demand perfection from us as parents or creatives. He doesn’t stick us with an output meter like a master chef uses a meat thermometer to ensure we’re sizzling with maximum parental or creative enthusiasm.
He works with us wherever our energy level is at.
At every moment. Whether we’re taking the inspiring first steps into something new, or walking out at a steady, staggered pace for all the miles that follow.
Where Are You Right Now?
Where, in your parenting or creative life, are you currently giving (or needing to give) tenth-book energy?
Where should you be pushing with first-born effort and where can you simply show up honestly?
I read every reply. These moments are better when shared. Drop a note!
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Thanks for being here on this journey of turning real dadlife chaos into poems, reflections, and church sketches.
If you’re a Christian dad or faith-filled creative and haven’t yet, grab your free Author Dad Codebook— it’s waiting for you as a welcome gift.
Looking forward to hearing from you,
Andrew
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P.S. New Poetic Dadlife moments and the next Code drop soon. Visit my Instagram to see if the squirrels are still winning, and if I’m learning to laugh about it.