As we approach my son’s first birthday, I find myself reflecting on a year of fatherhood. There were certainly ups and downs, and some hard-learned lessons. With this being our first, I was exhaustive in my research and incredibly open to advice during the pregnancy. I wanted to feel ready when our son arrived, but nothing prepares you for the real thing, or the sinkholes.

Upon sharing that my wife and I were expecting, the announcement came with a myriad of freely dispensed advice—which I welcomed. Looking back, I do wish some of that guidance would have been related to natural erosion. When I told one of my coworker Dave, he responded very graciously about how rewarding being a parent was, but he neglected to mention the part where the sinkhole forms. It would have been really helpful if he had.

My parents were elated when they heard the news. Being first time grandparents, both got really emotional. I thought they were tears of joy, but in hindsight, they might have just been remembering all the soluble bedrock issues inherent in child rearing. Then again, when I called them about the “once in generation” trouble with the groundwater tables beneath our home, they seemed surprised. They’ve been wonderful parents to me and grandparents to my son, but they whiffed on the sinkhole thing as I was woefully unprepared.

The pregnancy prompted my sister, who is typically a fountain of feedback and unwelcomed critiques, to pass along the oft-mentioned “sleep when the baby sleeps” mantra—which we tried to adhere to. But, what Danielle failed to mention was that while baby, mother, and father were all soundly sleeping, the limestone beneath us would be nearing the culmination of a millennia-long disintegration process that would result in our home disappearing into the void. Also, she went off-registry for our baby shower gift, and now we have two food processors. Thanks for nothing, Danielle.

The most applicable advice I received was from Danielle’s husband, and my brother-in-law, Dane who said, “Your life will never be the same again.” Right you were, Dane! I assumed he was alluding to the day-in-and-day-out responsibility of being a parent as opposed to the hyper-specific and incredibly hellish situation of a hole opening up beneath your house and swallowing it its entirety while your family is out getting ice cream. Dane always says that people underestimate him, and maybe he’s right. He also told me that I’d, “Better start saving.” Right again, Dane!

After reading a few different books and doing deep dives online, I felt I had a handle on the financial implications of having a kid. What I didn’t have a handle on were the financial implications of having a kid and a sinkhole at the same time. Onesies, diapers, and rattles were well within our budget, but what wasn’t was what an insurance surveyor referred to as “definitive proof that the Devil exists.” That same surveyor later informed me that I had opted out of sinkhole coverage. I must have missed that parenting tip on DadTok.

On a positive note, our son is doing great. He’s a happy, healthy, and good humored young boy. In truth, being a dad feels like a breeze as compared to the whole sinkhole thing. Years from now, when our son is grown and ready to start a family, I’ll be candid with him: fatherhood is the best thing that will ever happen to you, but the sinkhole that comes along with it is definitely the worst.