If we want fathers to be active participants in the lives of their children, we need to include them in the conversations leading up to that child’s birth.
—
We were sitting in the doctor’s office, a seasoned and slightly exhausted nurse holding one hand as my partner held the other. Our doctor was standing directly in front of me, looking at me as he explained the possible complications one of our babies could be facing. There was a troubling ultrasound and the results could be as simple as a false alarm or as devastating as an unavoidable loss.
I was scared.
I was crying.
And I was the only person in that room being tended to.
Much of the same happened in the days, weeks and months followed. As we underwent procedures and endured a painful loss and continued with a pregnancy that would end with the birth of a healthy baby and a deceased baby, I remained the focus. I was asked questions and I was given the opportunity to vent and I was the one being talked to.
I was the one who received hugs and I was the one who received condolences and I was the one who as offered counseling or a trained ear or a selfless shoulder.
My partner, by my side through every procedure and enduring the same painful loss and watching the birth of a healthy baby and a deceased baby, faded into the background.
It was as if he wasn’t there.
It was as if he wasn’t hurting.
It was if he wasn’t scared.
It was as if he wasn’t important.
We seem to only stress the importance of fathers once they are gone. When they’ve disappeared or become violent or perpetually unfaithful, we go on and on about the differences they can make and the impact they have and the gravity of their influence.
But when they’re in the room, holding your hand and wiping away the tears and being steadfast in their love and support and dedication, we ignore them.
We tell them the mother should be the only focus, then wonder why so many fathers believe the woman should be doing the majority of the parenting.
We tell them the mother has a stronger connection and a deeper understanding and a flawless instinct, then wonder why men feel ill-equipped and inadequate and lost.
We focus on the pain a mother feels when she loses a child; in utero or at birth or on any day that follows. We comfort her and cry for her and listen to her, ignoring the pain the father feels, and then wonder why men don’t express the very real emotions they experience or carry or, unfortunately, ignore.
We stress a bond between mother and baby, ignoring the importance of skin-to-skin contact with the father, and wonder why men feel unattached or unimportant.
We want fathers to be involved and active participants in their children’s lives or their family’s existence, but we don’t stress their importance or the role they play as partners in parenthood.
We don’t pay them any attention until they are gone or dangerous or hurtful or capable of untold damage.
It’s time to stop.
We need to involve fathers in the conversations we have with pregnant women.
We need to highlight the obvious: that parenthood is a partnership.
A partnership in which one is no more or no less important than the other.
A partnership that is anything but 50/50—for sometimes one individual will need more time or attention or love or care than the other—but a partnership of give and take, in which focus will shift when it is necessary.
If the mother needs the majority of the attention in a particular moment, she will receive it, but not without an eventual turn that leaves the father in the spotlight as well.
Most importantly, it will be a partnership that values both parents, and the power they have to evoke real change in the life of another human being before one leaves or falters.
If we want fathers to be active participants in the lives of their children, we need to include them in the conversations leading up to that child’s birth.
I’ve asked my partner how he felt the day we lost our son. I’ve asked him if he was hurt or upset when no one seemed to look at him or speak to him or even ask him if he was okay.
His response:
No. I’m used to it. The pregnancy, the birth, and everything in between. It’s about you.
In that moment, my heart broke.
It should have been about us.
Next time, growing our family will be about us.
—
Photo: Courtesy of the author
When my ex-wife was a stay-at-home mom, she never even thought to ask me if I wanted to help out at the kids’ school and a bunch of other things. When our finances forced her to go back to work, I had a lot more vacation time and a more flexible work schedule, so I was able to do a lot of those things. And when I brought the topic up when we saw a counselor during our divorce, she was shocked that I wanted to be involved. It never crossed her mind. And then she accused me of being… Read more »
Trey, as I say, men were elected, although I don’t recall standing for office. But, if we don’t, who does?
I’ve been on the receiving end of that treatment…….First Kid was a textbook pregnancy, then 5 miscarriages in a row over 2 1/2 yrs ……. Somewhat dangerous surgery and a second health child 4 1/2 yrs after the first. My feeling of loss were beneath notice while I jumped through hoops to help her manage/deal with/ Process her feelings of loss…… and it was everywhere that My pain was seen as inconsequential. DD #2 is a teen now and I still bear emotional scars from all of it
You had a rough go. Problem is, somebody has to be competent and able to cope regardless of their situation or their loss, potential or actual. Men were elected.