Becoming a father, I think it inevitably changes your

Hugh Jackman, known to the world as a man of strength and art, once spoke words not of fame but of fatherhood: “Becoming a father, I think it inevitably changes your perspective of life. I don’t get nearly enough sleep. And the simplest things in life are completely satisfying. I find you don’t have to do as much, like you don’t go on as many outings.” In this humble confession lies the universal truth that the arrival of a child alters not only daily rhythms, but the very lens through which a man sees the world.

The first lesson is that fatherhood brings with it sacrifice. Jackman admits to the loss of sleep, the exhaustion that weighs upon the body. Yet this weariness is not without meaning—it is the cost of love, the price of being present in the fragile hours of a child’s early days. Where once a man sought rest for his own sake, now he stays awake for another’s. The sacrifice that might seem heavy becomes light when borne out of devotion, for in the sleepless nights, a father discovers the depth of his own endurance.

But beyond sacrifice, Jackman speaks of a profound shift in perspective. Where once a man may have sought grandeur, adventure, or endless activity, the child teaches him that the simplest things are treasures. A smile, a small hand resting in his own, a moment of laughter at the dinner table—these become riches beyond measure. The child awakens in the parent a clarity of vision: that joy is not found in the extravagance of outings or the chase of distant pleasures, but in the nearness of love itself.

History, too, remembers such transformations. Consider Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher. Though he bore the burdens of empire, in his Meditations he wrote tenderly of the lessons he learned from those who raised him and of the responsibilities he carried as a father. For him, the discipline of empire was vast, but the discipline of parenting was deeper still, reshaping even the thoughts of a ruler. Like Jackman, he discovered that greatness is not measured in conquests abroad but in fidelity to the simplest acts of care at home.

Jackman’s words also remind us of the paradox of contentment. To the world, reducing outings, doing “less,” may seem like loss. Yet in the presence of a child, doing less outwardly becomes doing more inwardly. The parent who stays home, who exchanges grand adventures for the daily rituals of care, discovers a quieter, richer fulfillment. This is the secret of fatherhood: that by narrowing the scope of life, one deepens its meaning.

The lesson for future generations is profound: let not the sacrifices of parenting be counted as burdens, but as sacred offerings. If you lose sleep, know it is because you are awake for love. If you do less of the outward activities, remember you are doing more of what matters most. Let your heart delight in the ordinary, for in those ordinary moments you are building the extraordinary foundation of a child’s life.

Therefore, let Hugh Jackman’s words echo as wisdom: to become a father is to be remade, to trade old pleasures for new satisfactions, to lose certain freedoms yet gain a deeper freedom—the freedom of knowing what truly matters. Walk this path with courage, embrace the sleepless nights with patience, and cherish the smallest joys with reverence. For these are the treasures that endure, long after fame, outings, and worldly pursuits have faded away.