Fatherhood

"From the moment of conception, men go from 'best actor' to 'best actor in a supporting role'." New dad Paul shares an honest, must-read tale of modern fatherhood.

As Paul's wife Nic became pregnant with their first baby and then went on to suffer multiple miscarriages in coming years, Paul re-evaluated his role - as a father-to-be, as a support for his wife, and as a man. An honest, compelling tale of modern fatherhood.

Up until fairly recent times the whole job of being a parent was secret women's business. Sure, fathers have always been around and have always had a role to play. But it is only our parents' generation that has changed the role of a father from being the 'boss of the family', 'the breadwinner' and 'the disciplinarian' into something far more rewarding and uplifting. I am not saying that fatherhood is equal to motherhood now (Mum will almost always be number one as far as children are concerned) but at least we can now feel that we are part of the parenthood team, working together to make our own little contribution to evolution. We are now Mum's 'wingman'.

Fathers became relegated to 'Best actor in a supporting role'. But of course this wonderful revolution in the role of fatherhood does have its own problems. We hear so often in the media about the difficulties of being a modern mother; women trying to balance career and family. However, fathers also have their own 'clash of civilisations' to deal with. From the moment of conception we are relegated from being the 'best actor' to 'best actor in a supporting role'. This does take some getting used to and I know from my own experience (I practice primarily in family law) it is a sad truth that having children is one of the leading causes of marital breakdown. Fortunately my story has a happy ending (at least it has so far) although it did take a while for me to get there.

I had it all mapped out
I am someone who plans and is very logical. I thrive in an environment where there are rules with predictable outcomes. In that way I am a typical male - we compartmentalise. I had always planned that I would study hard, get a job, go overseas and at 27 I would have sufficient prospects to find the girl who would want to keep me around for a while, marry her at age 30 and have kids. I also figured she would take a year off work, then I would take a year off work; looking after our children before we played 'pass the parcel' sharing the parenting roles with grandparents and other family members. We could still keep our careers burning away. I met my soul mate the day I finished my university studies and was married by the time I was 27. Everything was going swimmingly. Then we decided to start working on having children. I just figured it would be simple as a few rolls in the sack once the pill had worn off, and nine months later the baby pops out. I was sadly quite wrong.

I cast myself in the role of 'provider' and forgot to enjoy our first pregnancy. My wife (who I will henceforth call Nic for that is her name) has always told me that we would probably have difficulty getting pregnant because she has PCOS. Much to our surprise however we actually conceived almost as soon as she went off the pill. I was filled with three emotions at the time - joy that I was going to be a father (and Nic was going to be a mother - I knew it was such an important thing for her), pride that my little swimmers had gotten through first go, but also (and at times overwhelming the other emotions) fear that I was not going to be able to cope financially. While in my heart I was ready to have a baby, my subconscious had rationalised that it would take a while to have children so it was so far off that we would be able to cope with the financial burden. I know it seems cold but I was more worried about how we could afford to eat and pay the bills than enjoy the fact that we were pregnant. 

I needed time for my head to catch up to my heart
I thought I had been able to mask that fear well. But after we lost our first baby through miscarriage Nic told me I had really hurt her by my constant worrying about money. And she was right. It was not my intent, but I had become obsessed with the traditional father's responsibility to feed and clothe their family; I felt I would not be up to the task without getting a second job and working 25 hours a day. By doing that I had taken away some of the joy that Nic deserved. I still feel guilt about that. 

However, while it seems heartless, in some ways it might have been for the best to have gone through the next two and a half years of emotional struggle, pain and stress - losing pregnancy after pregnancy (which I refused to count for the sake of self preservation) - as it has tempered our relationship and made it even stronger. It allowed me the time I needed to let my head catch up to my heart.
 
Of course it does not stop me from feeling sometimes that I have been cheated out of three years of fatherhood when I see my niece who was born three months after we were supposed to have the one we lost, and who is now two turning three.

I suppose that while I always wanted children it wasn't until we had lost so many pregnancies that I came to appreciate what I had missed out on. When you are a man trying to become a father, you start to notice other dads and their children in sharp focus; playing with their children and pushing them in prams around the shopping mall.

Men tend to bottle up their grief
With every failed cycle, a man is put in a very difficult position emotionally. The old stereotype is 'Man the protector, the Rock'. When the cycles failed, or even worse, the pregnancies failed, there is a self-imposed expectation that you will step into that role and to support and comfort your partner. While I believe that the pain that a woman goes through - because it is so personal, both physically and emotionally, is greater than that experienced by a man, we forget that men do have emotions sometimes. When we are in the role of protector, we believe that we can't express how we are feeling and we focus on assuaging the pain of our partner. 

That is stupid. We should allow ourselves to grieve. In hindsight I wish I had. I bottled up the pain of loss. After two and a half years it can become a bit of a burden. It doesn't help that men, unlike women, tend not to have friends who they can open their souls to who can talk about how they are feeling. Being the first one of my circle of friends to be in the family game I did not have anyone to talk to who could really sympathise with what I was going through, although some did try.

If there are any men out there reading this who are going through the trials and tribulations of trying to fall pregnant I urge you to talk to your partner about it. It will not take away from your partner's own feelings. Your feelings have just as much worth as theirs. 

If I had allowed myself to connect emotionally much earlier in the piece, then the two and a half lost years would have been much easier to deal with.

Being a parent is about investing love in a child At some point during the years of failed pregnancies, I can't remember when, I had a Damascus conversion (a biblical 'about face.') and realised that it does not matter how much money you have; you can always find a way. Being a parent is about investing love in a child, it is not about the money. A child when he is 18 is not going to say, "Dad, you never invested enough money in me. I feel like I have not met my potential as a human being because you did not clothe me in designer labels, send me to the best schools and had me enrolled in every extra-curricular activity under the sun". However, when he is 18 he can say, "Dad, you did not love me enough. You were too busy working trying to have the time just to be there." 

It is funny but when we became pregnant with Alex my heart said (and I am sure you are rolling your eyes thinking everyone says this) that this was 'the one'. Despite the difficulties we had in falling pregnant, once we were it was the perfect pregnancy. And the best thing about it was I was ready on an emotional level to become a father. I remember with clarity the last few very, very, very long days as we approached the due date. The labour itself was pretty easy (Nic will confirm that - I am not the one saying that because I am not the one who had to pass a small watermelon). The biggest thing going though my mind was a sense of impotence. This was the biggest event in my life (thus far) and all I could do was wipe Nic's forehead and hold her hand while she did all the work.

Alex plays the starring role
And then Alex was born and the world suddenly became bright and glorious. As soon as I saw Alex slide out and cry for the first time my soul sang (I know it sounds corny but it is the best description I have for the most overwhelming rush of love and emotion I have ever felt). And as soon as it happened the cool, calm, collected exterior, which I had so carefully built up around me through the years, was shattered. I burst into tears of joy. I have only had an emotion close to that once and that was my wedding day, but this was far, far more overwhelming.

Being a father is the most wonderful experience. It adds purpose to your life. I have friends who are adamant they won't have children and I feel sorry for them. They see only the hard stuff - the crying, the expense, the cramping of style. They don't see and cannot know until they experience it, how complete it makes you feel. To have someone who becomes the centre of your universe. Who gives you purpose. I find it hard sometimes as my job involves a big commitment and long hours. But it makes it easier to deal with knowing that my family, Nic and Alex, are waiting for me at the end of the long drive home.

- Paul

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