Last minute nerves

My feelings, just days before I go on Shared Parental Leave

I can’t deny it. I’m anxious

In less than a week’s time I’ll be on shared parental leave, not returning to work until July.

I’ve been looking forward to this since my wife and I first agreed we would share leave and full-time parenting responsibilities early in her pregnancy. The chance to spend quality time parenting (what I now know to be) my daughter is something that very few fathers, for various reasons, are able to take.

Good employer = good parental leave and pay policies

We’re really lucky in that respect. Whilst the laws around shared parental leave are now in place, it is not always easy in practice. I’ve had friends and colleagues who wanted to take it, but the terms on offer meant it didn’t make financial sense. It becomes a luxury not everyone can afford.

That’s not the case for us.

As a civil servant (albeit one on secondment at Waltham Forest) I’m eligible to share almost all of my wife’s leave, up to six months of it at full pay. The charity where my wife works gives staff up to six months of their leave at full pay. In both cases, this is a ‘top-up’ of statutory pay: legally a couple (or individual) can only claim statutory pay for nine months, so of the 12 months SPL split between us, my wife will be at full pay for six, and I will be at full pay for three. We will have three months unpaid.

It’s overly complicated, but this is as good as it gets in terms of a family SPL scenario. It’s a scenario we’re incredibly grateful for, and one which, if we’re to empower mothers to be able to return to work, promote active fathers, and tackle gender stereotypes, should surely be the norm.

Careering out of control?

So if not finance, why am I anxious?

Firstly, something that most mothers must worry about during every pregnancy: how will this impact on my career? What will four and a half months away from my job mean for me?

Does this feel harder as a father?

It shouldn’t of course, but I do wonder if the relative novelty of it, the perceived optionality of it makes it feel, if not harder, then different. As a Mum, there’s a cultural expectation that I’d be going off on leave for months; as a Dad, I worry people think I’m taking liberties rather than looking after my child.

There’s probably something unique about my situation too. I’ve spent over two years now at Waltham Forest, the last seven months of which have been some of the most rewarding of my life, working to reduce violence across the borough. An inspirational boss, passionate team and engaged lead member are hard to find.

My pride in the progress of the programme, the strength of the partnership, and the incredible relationships I’ve built over recent months makes it hard. I really enjoy (most of) my job.

It feel as little like I’m walking away.

No obvious signs

And it must look to others more like I’m walking away than it must look for a Mum-to-be. I do not have an increasingly protruding and back-breaking human in my stomach (though my Christmas-in-the-Midwest fuelled stomach is doing its best).

I do not have people worrying about my health, holding open doors, offering seats, and wondering if today will be the day they don’t see me again for many months.

And obviously, I am not about to go through the most unimaginable pain and physiological magic that my wife did.

So (a) the reason for my starting parental leave is different, based on choice not biological urgency, and (b) the nature of the build-up to the leave is different, with no obvious discomfort (other than occasional sleepless nights or vomit covered suits) to give the game away.

End of work, start of work.

Then there’s the work I’ve still got to get done. In the weeks preceding my paternity leave, around my daughter’s birth, I was careful to ensure I could leave at any point and it wouldn’t cause issues for my team. I also knew I’d be back shortly to solve anything that needed me (of course nothing did).

This time is different. Less than a week and I’m off. A few days to hand over the programme, hit a couple a milestones, tie off lots of loose ends. Lots to do, not much time left.

And then there’s the real work to come. By which I mean, the parenting.

Last weekend my wife went to a conference, putting me in sole charge of our daughter from 9 till 6.

It was one of the hardest nine hours of my life.

Some caveats: our daughter was recovering from illness, and particularly needy. I was recovering from illness and particularly grumpy. None of us had slept for the week. I needed to do a bit of work. The rugby was on. I was excited about impending Bowie karaoke that evening.

But the nine hours destroyed me.

Style, substance and sustainability

My parenting style to date has been high energy. Lots of singing and playing in an hour before work, an hour after work, and at weekends in bursts when with my wife.

This style is not sustainable for a full day as lead parent.

Baby shark cannot be sung all day.

I cannot bounce, dance, and laugh all day.

And even if I could — real parenting gets in the way: it is hard to go from the trauma-inducing sucking out of nose snot, to fun dad.

The nine hours were brutal.

Doing that, back to back, day after day, it struck me how much of a responsibility and role these four and a half months will be.

So, after months of excitement, as shared parental leave approaches, and in full acknowledgement of how lucky we are and how brilliant it will be, I admit to being anxious.

Anxious about the last few days of work, about how I will cope as lead parent, and about what it might mean for my career.

I wouldn’t change anything; it will be the best.

But my GP has diagnosed me with ‘mild hypertension’.