There’s a brand-new little being in my life, and she’s forever changed who I am and how I see the world.

The first time I held my daughter, the world shifted on its axis. As a writer and a language snob, I tend to scoff at cliches.

People drone on about the acute joy you experience when you look into that little face the first time – the feeling of crossing an invisible barrier.

They tell you it’s almost impossible to explain. Turns out they’re right. Psychologists call this a “peak experience” for a reason.

But alongside the joy, there is a new level of gravity to every choice I make. The first time I watched my wife breastfeeding this brand-new being, I was painfully aware of how tiny and helpless she was, but also how she was perfectly formed.

A whole other person now depends on me earning enough money to keep her safe, healthy, and fed. An entire human being needs to be educated and nurtured.

Suddenly, all of those concerns about the effects of climate change in 50 years seem a lot less abstract.

At 42, I’m a bit older than most newly-minted fathers, even by the standards of the 21st century. The average age of people having their first child is a full decade older than it was in the 1970s, but most men are still fathers by the age of 33 or 34.

As such, I’ve had to start thinking more seriously about the end of my life, however much discomfort that causes me. I’ll be in my 60s by the time she finishes her education, and in my mid-70s by the time she’s likely to have her own children.

My default tendency would be to avoid thinking about that reality and to try to get through the day in front of me. I’m incorrigibly resistant to confronting discomfort.

Over the years, I’ve gotten much better at it, but it costs me a lot of emotional energy.

But with the arrival of my baby girl, these confrontations became a non-issue. The very morning my wife received the call from our IVF doctor, her face lit up with joy and relief, and I simultaneously bought life insurance for the first time.

I started running again after quitting for more than a decade. I lost a chunk of weight and began to focus on growing my business in a way I never had before. I started saving more. I started thinking seriously about political stability, both here and abroad.

As with my experience of watching our baby be born, holding my exhausted wife’s hand tightly as we shared tears at hearing that first plaintive cry, there’s nothing particularly miraculous about a new father suddenly realising he needs to step up.

Having a baby is not a panacea for my flaws or my problems. I’m the same guy, just with some additional responsibilities. But I have a new feeling of purpose.

I want to be there for those grandchildren, and I’ll be damned if I don’t go down fighting.

More than 2000 years ago, Seneca wrote, “Nothing is ours, except time. We were entrusted by nature with the ownership of this single thing, so fleeting and slippery that anyone who will, can oust us from possession.”

The most precious thing I can offer my baby girl is my time and attention. I am lucky enough to be able to run my business out of my home, and so I am present for a lot more moments than many other working parents are able to be.

She has even joined me in a few video calls, out of necessity rather than choice, much to the amusement of my (fortunately) tolerant clients and partners.

The future is, by definition, uncertain. I cannot control it, as much as I want to. But I can control my own actions.

I can be a model for her of how much she deserves to be loved and how men should treat her (even if, like her aunt, she turns out to prefer women).

I also need to accept that I cannot control my daughter’s choices. All too soon she will be walking freely around the world – a piece of my being, but beyond my control – probably doing many of the same kinds of stupid and dangerous things I did.

Seneca was a leading stoic philosopher, and he taught us that to live a good life requires consistent practice, wisdom, justice, courage, and self-control. I’m hoping to raise a good stoic – someone who values goodness for its own sake.

I’m hoping I can be a good enough example to her. Her mother certainly will be – she’s the best person I know. But whatever happens, I know my place now.

I have found my home, and this is exactly where I am meant to be.