As my wife, Sarah, approached the final month of her pregnancy, I found myself in a conversation with my supervisor about paternity leave. This was about three years ago.
“Don’t take too much time off,” Tom advised. “Your students might really suffer.” Sitting at my desk, I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. Tom, with his mid-40s wisdom and years of experience as a single dad, meant well. He cared about our students, and I understood that. However, his comment struck a nerve.
In my role as an academic counselor for underrepresented students, I had about 80 students depending on me. I could easily identify several who might struggle if I wasn’t there to support them, especially since my wife was due right before the end of the spring term—a particularly critical time for students.
But I also knew that my wife and our new baby would need my support just as much. We had recently relocated to Oregon, far from our family back in Colorado. Besides a few helpful friends and my mother-in-law, Sarah and I were on our own. She needed me, and I wanted to be there for her and our child.
I had accrued enough sick leave to take seven weeks off, and while the university allowed up to three months of leave, it wouldn’t be paid for the entire duration. This was my first job out of college, but we were already on our third child. With our first two, I was juggling waitressing and classes, taking only a few days off here and there. I had long vowed to make the most of my paternity leave when the time came.
Yet, suddenly I was confronted with the burden of professional obligation. I felt that if I took too much time off, my students would be let down. Our program was already underfunded and understaffed.
That evening, after the kids had gone to bed, Sarah and I discussed my leave. “Seven weeks would be amazing,” she said. “I could really use your help.” But then I shared Tom’s words with her. “I’m not worried about my job, but my students’ well-being weighs on me,” I confessed.
Sarah paused to think and then said, “I would love to have you around, but my mom will be here to help. I want you at the hospital, but other than that, I’ll manage. We’ve done it before.”
I often tell people I prioritize being a dad over my job, but in that moment, I felt torn. It felt selfish to consider taking time off. I worried that taking paternity leave would make me seem lazy or uncommitted. I was the new guy, and I thought that stepping away for family time was somehow a cop-out.
The reality, however, is that a father’s role during this time goes well beyond simply recovering from the birth. It’s a crucial period for bonding and support, both for the newborn and for the mother. Balancing work commitments with family needs is a common struggle for many fathers.
Ultimately, I chose to prioritize my job over my family and only took two weeks off. Reflecting on that decision now, I feel a deep sense of regret. Just like with my first two children, I lost precious moments with my newborn—moments that could have strengthened our bond and allowed me to support Sarah when she needed me the most.
If you’re an expectant father, I understand the pressure weighing on you. But trust me when I say, if you have the chance to take paternity leave, seize it. Embrace every moment. Your family will benefit immensely, and you won’t regret it. For more insights on family planning, check out this resource.
In summary, taking paternity leave is not just about recovering; it’s a vital time for connection and support. Don’t let workplace pressures keep you from being there for your family.