What 9 Weeks of Paternity Leave Looked Like (Part 1)

Disclosure: above does not accurately depict first 3 weeks and is not my child.

Before we begin: Prior to my son’s arrival I was working for the Victorian Public Service which entitled me to 4 weeks that I could take off concurrently with my wife being on leave.

I instinctively thought 4 weeks was too short given we’d very much have our training wheels on. So I took my 4 weeks leave at half-pay and added an extra week of annual/recreation leave. This enabled me to take 9 weeks off in total. 

As you’ll soon find out, this was a very good move.

Week 1 (Monday 27 January 2025)

Our boy was due Wednesday 29 January 2025. But as that day passed by there weren’t any signs that he’d be entering the world anytime soon.

With a labour induction booked for a week away, we made the most of our final week of ‘just us’—yum cha at Chef Wong, Hawthorn East, dog walks, midday cinema sessions and even attending an Olympian's retirement party. 

But the stress of waiting kept us on edge, especially at night.

I embraced the Latte Dad life—daily café trips (thank you Nigel) for a free newspaper, a mental unwind from work (though with some guilt for taking time off before the baby arrived). 

It was an optimal week to tick off back-burner tasks: disinfecting our fake lawn, getting a guitar restrung by the Colonel himself, and returning an old work laptop.

Notably, it was the last week in 11 years where my wife and I had each other’s complete, undivided attention.

Week 2

The big day came with stress and chaos, but thankfully mum and baby were safe. Our obstetrician and a team of midwives got us through a near 24-hour marathon. 

Seeing our son for the first time was surreal. And in that moment, I couldn’t help but think about my own parents, who did all this with far fewer resources.

That first night in hospital? Brutal.

We clung to the midwives for help with changing nappies, breast and bottle-feeding and swaddling (hot tip: bring your own sleep sacks—hospital ones suck).

Hospital life was intense, with round the clock check-ups on mum and bubs making it impossible to catch up on sleep—a sign of things to come. 

Feeding regimens and sleep schedules were savage—no sugar-coating it.

Solidarity helped: dads pacing the halls at midnight trying to keep bubs asleep while mums recovered; the communal cries during late-arvo witching hour, with all of us sweating through the hospital’s overstretched cooling system.

The hospital food was surprisingly decent, though the kitchen had a limited repertoire. Thankfully hearty hainanese chicken and rice and char siu was just across the road. And my UberEats account got a solid workout. (Did anyone else demolish a family-sized Schnitz chips a few hours after childbirth? Just me?)

I reckon I made 100 teas in 6 days. And, given the small hospital room, I was pretty chuffed with my Tetris skills when flowers and food from loved ones started piling in.

Then that morning swings around when we’re due to check out. We’re relieved to be going back home but immensely terrified to be alone with the baby—no more magic button that calls in midwives to help us.

Cue the delirious, sleep-deprived drive back. My eyes couldn’t handle the blistering sun that shone through the windscreen—the light contrast feeling like that scene where Batman climbed out of the pit. I was half-blind, navigating Melbourne’s most treacherous roundabout while anxiously darting glances at our silent baby in the backseat.

Somehow—thanks to sheer luck and driving 20km under the limit—we made it home safely. Baby didn’t make a peep.

Week 3

Shocking. Absolutely shocking. Nothing prepared us for this.

We were sorely missing the hospital’s night nursery. No more expert midwives to give us a break. Just us now.

Enter: the triple feed routine—a demonic cycle designed to build up milk supply by simultaneously removing the baby from mum so she can be strapped to a mechanical breast pump (they all suck, but the Spectra is probably the best).

Triple feed =

1. Breastfeed (my role required deft precision to help line up the baby and mum in a horizontal side lying position because my wife was still recovering from the birth—here’s a visual to illustrate said deft precision).

   
   

2. Bottle-feed formula (my moment to shine—oh and it turns out that most Australian babies have formula even though there’s still immense pressure on mums to solely breastfeed).

   
   

3. Nappy change and soothe baby back to sleep while mum spends quality time with the mechanical breast pump.

   
   

See, all that above takes time—about 60-80 minutes for first-time parents.

And it’s not like the baby goes straight back to sleep—you could be stuck on step 3 with a stroppy baby who is more tired and schnitzy than you.

Then by the time the baby’s asleep, you’re wired and filled with cortisol which only seems to subside just before baby’s due to wake again at the end of their 40-minute sleep cycle.

Then you’re up again to soothe the baby, rock the bassinet, shush white noise sounds to help the baby connect sleep cycles and roll into their 2nd cycle. By the time you’re back down you then have to try and sleep through newborn baby grunts (‘sleep like a baby’ is a horribly misleading phrase!).

But you’re really just counting down the minutes before you need to get out of bed to do the ‘triple feed’ all over again.

We’re showered with gifts and food delivered by family and friends. This creates a new problem: the cardboard builds up and the fridge and freezer are packed to the brim. Who would’ve thought one could actually receive too much food? Guilt piles on as we desperately try and respond to messages of well wishes and requests to visit.

And then wham—we’re hit with a cold. There is nothing worse than spending hours settling a newborn, only to let out a rogue cough and wake them. 

No wait—there is something worse: hearing your baby cough and struggle to breathe through tiny, mucous-filled airways. 

I burn out. 

Time to bring in the big guns: the in-laws.

Originally, I thought I’d cover all 9 weeks in this post… but clearly I had more to say about weeks 1 to 3 than expected.

I promise—it does get better from here.

How did my first 3 weeks land for you? If you’ve had kids, how did your first few weeks compare?

Let me know in the comments!

-Will

Where was I writing this? 20/4/25 Merchant & Maker ($8.11 large almond cappuccino, including 17.5% public holiday surcharge—nutty, bold, rich)