I'm taking eight months' paternity leave – and it's changing my relationship with my children | Ilyas Nagdee

2 hours ago 4

When I told people I was taking more than eight months of parental leave, the main reactions I got were: “What are you going to do with all that time?” and “won’t you get bored?” These questions came from every direction – including health professionals involved in my wife’s pregnancy and the arrival of our second child.

More than halfway through my leave, I’ve been reflecting on what good parental leave looks like: leave that allows families to take the time to adjust to the new rhythms of family life. Thanks to a new policy at my work that gives parents six months of paid parental leave, in addition to annual leave, I will be returning to work not when our newborn is still tiny, our toddler is adjusting to a sibling and their mum is recovering from birth, but when our son is eight months old. This is markedly different to when our first baby was born two years ago, after which I was able to take only three weeks of paternity leave – while my partner chose to take the full period of maternity leave and not to return to work.

Three in five dads in the UK take some paternity leave, but the primary reason why leave is not taken or is kept as minimal as possible is financial, with many unable to afford the luxury of spending time with their newborns. Shared parental leave – usually the only way to take more than a couple of weeks – is a headache to understand let alone apply for, and usually relies on the mother giving up part of her own leave. We looked into it with our first child, but it would have left us worse off financially, so we opted not to pursue it.

The period leading up to a child’s birth can feel like a whirlwind of emotions – joy and happiness mixed with worry and concern – but the main thing I remember the first time around is feeling overwhelmed. This was made even worse by looming deadlines and a mounting workload before I took time off. Working from home blurred boundaries even more, with me working into the early hours of the morning trying to meet my deadlines and not fall behind. The due date loomed over the other deadlines and tasks on the to-do list like a big red countdown rather than the special day when our baby would be born. An extended hospital stay for my wife meant I was spending time working by the hospital bed, tallying up time off in lieu to be able to have more time once my wife and child were at home.

For our second child, my wife opted for a caesarean section, a decision informed by the fact that I would not be expected to get back to work but would be fully present, supporting her recovery and our kids. Thinking back to those first few weeks, amid the sleep-deprivation delirium were the small things that aided recovery, which might not be possible if your partner was not there. As well as the usual changing of nappies and feeds, it gave breathing space for important steps such as remembering when to give medication and focusing on mobility exercises, rather than rushing into tasks that risk infections and rehospitalisation.

Our first child used to go to “stay and play” – playgroups for babies and toddlers often hosted at libraries or churches – with his mum every day. The one time I took him, he point-blank refused to play for a while, as if unsure or apprehensive about my presence there. It felt like one of those small jabs your child gives you when you wrestle them into pyjamas, but delivered to the heart. But I’m now regularly re-enacting the storylines from Gecko’s Garage with him and his toy trucks and I’m able to assist him in some of the many repairs he carries out every day. Being able to be present every day means my wife and I can tackle challenges together, rather than being told of another biting incident at the nursery after work. I now keep myself updated on the weather, scouring for dry days to make a trip to the zoo, rather than working on public policy and legislative proposals.

It has been heartening to see momentum for better paternity leave in both the government’s review of paternity leave and day-one rights for parents delivered in Labour’s employment rights reforms. Yet these measures still leave much to be desired. For parents in low-income, insecure jobs, worries about financial security may mean they don’t even take the minimum statutory leave given they’d lose 10% of their pay over the two weeks. This is where government protections are most needed; ensuring well-paid, extended and enhanced parental leave allows parents to better focus on caring for their newborn. Campaigns such as The Dad Shift have highlighted the inadequacy of current paternity leave, particularly for births involving C-sections.

After bedtime, when my wife and I steal some time for ourselves to doomscroll through TikTok and Reels, I’ve been served content that suggests mums who are asking for more support with raising kids are weak; and men who are overly involved in childcare are denigrating their role as the head of the household. This content seems to emanate from the manosphere, where content is ever-morphing to prey on people during those periods of their lives when they are more likely to fall for these harmful ideas. But it’s not just from male creators – some of those messages are also coming from “tradwife” influencers. When juggling work, children and all the economic difficulties of today, it can be seductive for young men to blame the demands of parenthood on shifting societal roles – an easier target than the real economic and social conditions we find ourselves in today.

Thinking back to those questions I got before my parental leave started, I now say that being at work is less tiring than parenting all day. But being exhausted from parenting is many times more fulfilling than being exhausted from a work deadline. Catching as many “firsts” for your child as possible with your own eyes can never be boring. And now, as we enter the months where my wife and I catch one another singing Ms Rachel’s The Mama Song (“Can you say Dada/Mama”) to the baby, I say: game on.