Holy shit! I mean: Ho-lee shee-it! According to some doctors, it turns out that possibly 4 percent of new dads suffer from “clinically significant depressive symptoms within eight weeks of the birth of their children.” Just like their wives! (Only less so.)

Apparently, some combination of starry-eyed enthusiasm, lack of sleep, and financial burdens is pushing literally dozens of new dads to the point of maybe possibly considering suicide. Because, like, who hasn’t just wanted to off himself when faced with another blown-out diaper at 3 a.m.?

I’m being sarcastic because this all just seems obvious, especially given the rosy fantasy of parenthood perpetrated by our culture. We have this growing sense that parenthood should be something wonderful, filled with bonding and warm moments and hilarious accidents—something that, despite the hiccups and tears, is, on the whole, good.

When actually it’s just something normal. I mean, it can be great, but it can also suck. (That’s what we at Dadwagon call: Insight!) But that’s no reason to surround ourselves with images both heavenly (Brad Pitt and his hip brood) and devilish (the innumerable failings of Jon Gosselin) and imagine that we have to be one or the other. Just kind of muddling through, with no expectations of how well it should all go, is the best kind of thing to aim for. Because if you think you’re supposed to be super-dad and then you drop the baby on her head—again—because you were distracted by the TV or the credit-card bills or the chapters of “What to Expect” that you should’ve read two months ago, well, then, yeah, you’re going to be depressed.

Which is exactly what you should expect. And that’s when you should realize it’s normal, and that even if you fuck it all up, it’s okay—there’s always someone out there doing it worse than you.