Going back to work

You’ll never feel more thankful to be leaving the house—even on a Monday morning—and heading to the office. Closing the door on a crying baby, tired partner, and messy house, you’ll find yourself wondering how on earth you’re going to remember how to do your job, and how your poor partner is going to cope doing the parenting thing solo. You’re going back to work, and you’re feeling guilty for it.

Depending on your employment situation you’ll either have a couple of weeks of paternity leave (whether state-funded, or if you’re very lucky like I was, employer-funded), or you’ll snatch a few days as your child is born and then you’ll be straight back to the grindstone. You may even be one of those rare unicorns: the stay-at-home dad, whose partner is the one going back to work instead. In which case, stop reading this now because you’re almost certainly too busy.

For most of us, though, the initial euphoria of new parenthood wears off to reveal the slightly unwelcome reminder that you still have bills to pay (plus one or two new expenses), and therefore need some form of employment to fund them. Back to the office with you, in your slightly-vomit-stained clothes and generally-dishevelled appearance.

I had a month off work – two weeks of paternity leave followed by two weeks’ holiday. I can’t imagine taking anything less – the first two weeks (as I documented here) were extremely challenging and it was only after this point that I could even begin to feel like we were getting into the swing of things. By the time week four rolled around, though, I was feeling a bit more ready to return. If I’m really honest, I was looking forward to it.

Caring for a newborn is a bit like Groundhog Day. Feed them, change them, comfort them, repeat. If you’re lucky they’ll sleep for a bit, then you can begin the cycle of chores (laundry, sterilising things, tidying up and perhaps replying to a text message or two). After a month of this I was more than ready to go back to an environment where my time was—comparatively—my own, I wouldn’t be interrupted mid-thought by someone urgently needing a cuddle, and I could have entire conversations with fellow adults without discussing poo consistency. Of course I was also acutely aware that this choice wasn’t available to Maddy, who was still at home with the baby, only this time she didn’t have me to at least share the load (and poo chat) with.

One thing that helped was to make sure we’d figured out stuff for her to do for her own sanity: meeting fellow new mum friends, going to cafes/shops, and generally trying to get out of the house and speak to other people besides the baby. I made an effort to phone her every lunchtime and check in, reassuring her and listening to whatever new thing Ted had done that day. Maddy was, as ever, brilliant at adapting to this new challenge, and by the second week was sending me daily WhatsApp videos and photos of Ted’s latest discoveries and achievements (the snoring clip was a highlight).

As for work: I’d be lying if I said the first week was productive, as I caught up with emails, worked out what I’d missed while I was off, and tried gamely to write some code despite having forgotten how to type in the previous month.

I tried to keep baby chat to a minimum, although my workmates were keen to hear how the first month had gone. I’ve found myself wanting to tell people “I’ve had a baby!” and show them the photos on my phone of Ted, something I could never imagine myself doing just a few months ago (for reasons of introvert anti-socialism, not because I didn’t think I’d be proud of my son). I’ve even planned to put up a little photo or two of me and Ted together on my desk so I can gurn fondly at his picture when I think of him. This is what parenthood has done to me.

By the Friday I felt like I could at least contribute something meaningful once more at work, but more importantly, I felt energised and refreshed when coming home, which I didn’t expect.

I assumed that after a sleepless night followed by eight hours of work, I’d crawl through the door at 6pm unable to think, let alone be handed a baby by Maddy who’d been “on shift” all day. But no: I’d usually feel comparatively rested, recharged even, and feeling the weight of responsibility (and love) for Maddy who’d been doing this all day and needed some “me time”. I’d take Ted, feed/change him, go for little walks around our neighbourhood and play/sing with him while she showered, got dressed(!) or just had a bit of downtime. I was amazed at the difference it made.

Before I went on paternity leave I was finding work stressful: a large project was kicking off and I was concerned about its direction and implementation. Coming back, though, I found myself less and less concerned. Everything else felt much less important in the context of my parenthood. I left these issues at the office door at 5pm and picked them up again the next day. I’d never even entertain the idea now of pulling a late evening session to wrap something up – it can all wait. I’m very lucky to have an understanding employer with good parental policies (I get an extra week’s paid holiday now I have a kid!) – and I still feel committed and empowered by my work. But my work stays there now: at work. It’s all so I can come home and be with my son and my partner.