Processing the Birth Experience as a Dad: Love, Fear, and Finding My Place

Alongside falling in love, becoming a parent is arguably the most profound experience a human can have. For me, the birth of my daughter was not only the most significant moment of my life, but also one of the most intense. Nothing could have prepared me for it. It was traumatic and beautiful all at once.

After a tricky 18-hour labour, my daughter was born at 11:30am via c-section. The initial joy didn’t last long as she was immediately rushed to intensive care. My fiancé, numb from the waist down and heavily medicated, was taken to a recovery room and we were left waiting for updates.

When I was allowed to see my daughter, I felt both relief and guilt. My fiancé wasn’t allowed to move, so I had to go alone but I knew my role in that moment was to be there for our little girl.

Seeing her properly for the first time was surreal. For months you imagine this baby… then suddenly they are real, yet still feel like strangers. Her head was swollen and tubes ran from her little nose. It wasn’t what I imagined but as I held her, it all sunk in. I warmed to her. She was no longer just a dream.

Later that evening, my fiancé and I were finally able to visit together. Watching her, exhausted and in pain, breastfeed for the first time was emotional. Seeing the love of my life nurture our daughter in such a natural, intimate way moved me deeply. I then got to share skin-to-skin time with our daughter and in that moment I knew nothing would ever matter more than this little family of mine.

As time passed by reality hit home. As ‘dad’, I was considered a visitor. I wasn’t allowed to stay overnight and I had to leave my partner and newborn behind. Driving home that night felt wrong. I had just experienced the biggest moment of my life, yet not being able to stay with my family made me feel unimportant and expendable. Not by one person, but by a system that subtly tells dads they don’t matter that much.

This needs to change. So many fathers already feel out of place during pregnancy and labour. Policies like this only deepen that.

I can’t really explain the feeling I had the next morning. I woke up and found myself crying my eyes out. Despite our intermittent relationship, I felt like I wanted to call my own father. 

I wiped the tears, packed a bag, and went back to the hospital.

When I look back now, I see just how emotionally heavy those hours were. Labour is labour. It's intense, unpredictable, and deeply human. For me, it came with a lot of uncertainty and some difficult moments, and as a dad I didn’t really feel supported through it. I coped, I got through it, and today my daughter is healthy and loved beyond measure, but I don’t think dads should have to figure it all out alone.

This isn’t about taking anything away from mums. They absolutely deserve every bit of support they receive and more. But when dads aren’t supported at all, it quietly sends a message that we matter less in that moment. 

My experience only strengthens my belief that future dads deserve to feel supported, valued, and included right alongside mum. Because when dads are supported, families are stronger.