Dads, you're not alone
I’ve never been the most spontaneous person. Sure, impulsive trips and activities can have a place, just not necessarily in my sphere. Alas, where pregnancies are concerned you’re not very often afforded the luxury of planning, even less so when your baby decides they want to make a grand entrance a full two months before due date.
So it was, then, that when my wife’s waters broke at 32 weeks and a day, it wasn’t exactly in the plan – and not much of the 12 months since has been in the ‘plan’ either.
But, you know, where would we be if everything stuck to a plan?
Dads need support
Our journey with our second-born daughter has been a remarkable one and something, as we celebrate her first birthday (10 months adjusted for those in the know!), we’re continuing to process.
I say continuing but if I’m brutally honest it’s probably something we haven’t even started to process. With a two-and-a-half-year-old sister to love and support as well, life hasn’t really given us the opportunity to reflect.
That’s, in part, why I am writing this. It’s something of a catharsis for me to look back on what has been an emotionally and mentally draining period but also because one thing I have noticed is that dads probably need a bit of support.
Even if it’s just this – a few words from someone who has been there and done it, someone who has been roughed up by a situation you didn’t need or want, someone to say ‘you’re not alone, mate’.
Because you can feel alone. You can have friends, family, colleagues who are genuinely brilliant and supportive, helping you as much as you could possibly ask for, but when the front door closes and the lights turn off, it’s just you and your little family.
As a dad, the pressure on your shoulders can be immense. After all, it’s your role to take as much of the strain as you possibly can.
A world you never knew about
My wife had all the trauma of her waters breaking so early and a, quite frankly, terrifying category one C-section to deliver our 3lb 1oz (1.39kg) daughter. She was battered and bruised – physically, mentally and emotionally.
The least we can do is show up. The situation is so not about you, you need to support – your wife, your eldest and your tiny baby who has entered the world needing so much help to just survive.
These are natural feelings and thought processes of any dad in this situation. I’m not saying it’s the same for everyone but I would imagine the majority of dads would feel like this.
But it’s hard. And it’s lonely. Even with all the amazing support you’re offered, pretty much living in NICU for weeks on end while the world gets on with its business is such an isolating feeling.
Calling a ward sister to check your daughter is OK before you go to bed.
Packing your hospital ‘check list’ bag every day. Making the 50-mile round trip every day. Arranging childcare and making sure your eldest still feels safe and secure.
NICU is a world you never really know about until you so desperately need it. You trust the life of the most precious thing to the doctors and nurses there. They are all angels.
However, NICU takes a toll on you. The weary smiles and nods to other parents you see day in, day out. All in a slightly different version of the same boat. All just wanting their babies to be well and to be at home.
And there’s the crux. No-one will ever know what you’ve gone through unless they, too, have walked in those shoes.
When your baby is ‘only’ premature, everyone you know suddenly knows of a premature baby who has grown to be a giant or a genius. It’s all well meaning but it’s irrelevant.
Because it’s not just a case of getting them home and ‘growing’ them. It is so much more. And it all takes time. More time than you’ll realise but you have be OK with that.
The bigger picture
Your little baby is forging their own path, one which will undoubtedly have more twists and turns than most but one which we all hope will lead them to the point of ‘normality’.
I write that in the nicest possible sense, just meaning the point where you stop having to refer to an ‘adjusted’ age, where you stop trying to guess exactly ‘how far behind’ they are.
They’ll get there but it’s hard. You can be the tightest of teams, as we are, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be exhausting. That you won’t snap at each other because only ‘each other’ know what it’s like. Your safe space.
Throughout it all though, dads, don’t lose sight of the bigger picture.
You’re not alone. Utilise the support available to you. If you’re not much of a talker, like me, write down your thoughts. Good and bad. It helps you let go or capture a moment. It helps. You can only be strong for others if you’re kind to yourself.
Thanks to Tom for sharing Florrie’s story. You can read more on his personal blog: https://skippertp.substack.com/