What 9 Weeks of Paternity Leave Looked Like (Part 2)

Before we begin: This post is the second of a 2-part series. So, if you haven't checked out Part 1, you're about to read the bits that follow after hitting rock bottom.

Week 4

Lifesavers. The in-laws have rescued us.

Our decision to move to a not-so-trendy suburb to be close to family has paid off. They’ve even caught our cold.

But we’re able to catch up on sleep—me more so as my wife still needed to wake up to breastfeed and pump to build up milk supply (more on that topic another time).

It took us 4 weeks to swallow our pride and,

A: accept help even if that meant relinquishing control of how our baby is soothed to sleep, the amount he cried or how he’s fed

B: admit we don’t both need to suffer in solidarity in the pursuit of perfect gender equality—i.e. one of us should sleep if the other is ‘on shift’ .

Our colds had subsided—we made it over that hump and I’m able to get the house sorted, my mind untangled and start to enjoy the parenting journey more.

We also started making mental notes for next time—don’t be afraid to ask for help sooner. And, seriously, don’t underestimate the importance of sleep.

We discover our boy sleeps quite well in the pram—I use that as an excuse to stroll through every grocery store within a 2km radius from home. It gives mum precious rest (though she’s riddled with guilt about not being close to baby). Shame that by the end of the week, he doesn’t like sleeping in the pram anymore—that was a quick adjustment.

Not to worry because at the end of this week, we even made our first road trip down to the Mornington Peninsula—the audacity. But it goes smoothly and we discover we’ve lucked out with our boy not minding car rides. In fact, he sleeps like a log if we time it well enough (spoiler alert: smooth car rides stopped for us by week 10).

Week 5

We hit a new challenge: bottle feeding. Suddenly, he didn’t want to take the bottle. Was it the travel, or had we confused him with too many hands helping feed him? We panicked.

A quick Google search and endless bottle trials later, we figured it was the 3-week growth spurt, not bottle aversion. Crisis averted.

We ended up settling on the Pigeon Super Slow Bottle after trying several options, and while it wasn't a cheap solution, it worked.

We also indulged in some guilt-free comfort food. The Guzman y Gomez Big Brekkie Burrito became an unhealthy obsession (topped with an unhealthy slathering of Cholula hot sauce) during those early weeks.

Week 5 featured a new morning ritual between bubs and me: a morning bottle feed followed by a nap in a Cocconababy with hours of Spanian globetrotting in the background. Maybe one day we’ll be able to visit some of those sights together as a family. 

During one of these morning rituals, I check my phone for the date and notice that if I took just the 4 weeks parental leave I’m entitled to (rather than taking additional leave), I would’ve already been at work by now.

Absurd—no way were we ready for that.

Weeks 6-7

We were starting to find our groove. Our decision to hire the SNOO bassinet was winning us at least 2 hours extra sleep each every night (and not to mention saving our backs from manual rocking).

My wife was more mobile and we were both becoming more confident with knowing how to ensure our baby boy was content.

But the thought of me going back to work was daunting. Mum and bubs was all I’d focused on for the past 50 days. I started trialling ‘office time’: heading to a café in the afternoons to write blog posts. But the separation was hard as I kept finding myself still constantly worrying about them.

Instead, I would cut my ‘office time’ short—justified only by the self-imposed urgent need to dash back home with a pit-stop at the local Chemist Warehouse on the off chance there were clearance sales on Pigeon bottles (love a bargain).

Weeks 8-9

Two weddings in my final week of leave, both with long drives. The first, at Stones in the Yarra Valley, had me MC’ing on minimal sleep. Thankfully, the in-laws came to the rescue—again—and booked a room at nearby Chateau Yering to look after our boy. 

We then cruised through the next day with breakfast, walks in nature and topped it off with an impromptu lunch overlooking rolling hills at Yering Station. I was filled with hope that our boy would somehow realise how special these memories would be—all of us in good health, enjoying each other’s company. 

Meanwhile, sensations of wistfulness struck me as I appreciated how fleeting these moments can be, coupled with the ever-present countdown when my leave would finish and I’d be due back to work.   

The second wedding at Lancemore Macedon Ranges went smoothly…until we had to pull over for a feed—smooth car rides might soon be a thing of the past. 

The wedding reception almost acted as a soft launch for our baby boy. Our initial fears for him over germs and loud noises were quickly overridden by beautiful images of our friends holding and cuddling him by the photobooth and whilst dancing to the celebration of love. 

It was at this moment where my wife and I realised early signs of our boy being an extrovert. 

Last Day (Sunday 30 March 2025)

The final day of parental leave was particularly memorable. After a bottle feed, our boy insisted on continuous eye contact and was smiling like no tomorrow. Did he know that this was our last day together before work would significantly cut down the hours we’d spend together? Was he aware of how much I’d miss him, or was I the only one feeling the weight of time slipping away?

There’s a feeling that settles in your chest as you realise how fleeting this time really is. I couldn't help but anticipate what the next few months might bring—how little time I’d have with him and how much of a struggle it’d be trying to balance everything. 

How quickly I might resettle into the daily grind of work and life—forgetting the monumental changes in perspective the past 9 weeks had brought me. Waking up in the middle of the night thinking more about mundane work events and less about the wellbeing of mum and bubs.

Financial freedom was something dad always said I should strive for, yet here I was: needing to go back to work and losing the ability to spend more time with my son. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame and regret—perhaps I should’ve chosen one career over another or stretched myself and jumped on the investment property bandwagon. 

I didn’t want to miss these moments for anything, but I knew we had to face the reality of a new balance—a new reality of work, parenting, and prioritising the needs of others over my own.

As he kept his eyes locked onto mine with a great smile on his face, tears streamed down my face. 

Well, that marks the end of my 9 weeks of parental leave.

I would love to hear how others found their parental leave and the eventual return to work, so please leave a comment!

-Will

Where was I writing this? 10/5/25 Caulfield Park Lake (while waiting for our dog to be groomed)