Paternal blues

Niraj Kapur’s life was enriched when he became a father. But having to go to work and be away from his daughter, tore him apart.

When I first held my daughter in my arms, it was not, as the old cliché goes, ‘the greatest feeling in the world’. It was a total and utter shock. My wife, Shweta, endured a 37-hour labour so traumatic that it took me a few days to to get over it - despite the fact that Shweta, the one who experienced all the pain, recovered immediately.

The joy of fatherhood

After a few days of recovery, I felt ready to get to know my daughter, Shreya. She was devilishly cute, had my eyelashes and Shweta’s large brown eyes. I felt so proud of my wife and was enamoured with our new arrival. And yes, I felt on top of the world. During that first week, the three of us made the most of our time with each other - every day we  had a lie-in, when we would stay in bed and cuddle up to each other. It felt like my house had finally become a home.

However, once my week of paid paternity leave was over, it was back to my rigorous eight-to-eight job, with two hours of London Underground commuting on top of that. I had returned to the daily grind and it was giving me the paternal blues.

The pain of fatherhood

I told everyone about Shreya at work, but talking about her made me miss her more. I scanned a few photos onto my PC so I could see her face, but it wasn't the same as holding her. I would work until eight and rush to be home by nine. By then, however,  Shreya was fast asleep and Shweta asked me not to wake her.

In fact, the only chance I got to see Shreya awake was at two in the morning, when she was crying for food. I would rush to pick her up and I enjoyed speaking to her to calm her down. After a few nights of this, however, my boss warned me that he hired human beings, not zombies.

After my long six-day week at work, I looked forward to relaxing on Sunday with my wife and baby. Unfortunately, I was in a queue - it was also the day when friends and relations popped round to see Shreya to shower her with affection. And that was the good news. The bad news was that Shweta wanted to spend a month in India to allow Shreya to spend time with her grandmother and other relatives.

Don’t get me wrong, I like to share but not when it makes me feel bad. As I said goodbye to my wife and daughter at the airport, I reminded Shreya that I loved her immensely and that I couldn’t wait for her to come back. She passed wind and gave me a smile. As the plane took off from the runway, my heart sank.

The frustration grows

No matter how exhausted I was, I couldn’t sleep. Without Shweta and Shreya my home was empty. There was no family to cuddle up to... no warmth, no laughter. 

I decided to visit the library to do some research into paternal leave. I was shocked to discover how lucky some of our European counterparts are. In Germany, fathers get four weeks of paid-for paternity leave. In Scandanavian countries, it’s over six weeks, so why, in a country as advanced as England, are we only allowed a miserly one week of paid-for leave? Many fathers don’t even get that. Those with babies born after 15 December 1999 can at least take unpaid leave, but most can only afford to use up paid-for holiday time.

I wrote to my MP on the subject but I'm still waiting for a reply. Politicians promise us the world, yet they can’t return a simple letter asking about paternity leave. On talking with other men, I realised that I'm not the only one to be annoyed by the minimal time fathers get to spend with their children. 

This is a typical scenario: You work as hard as you can to provide for your family and spend long hours travelling in trains full of rude people. You pay excessive amounts of council tax, income tax and national insurance. Yet despite the hard work and high costs - all to build a better family environment - the time you get to spend with your children is limited. And the less you are with your family, the more distant you become. Bonding with your children becomes increasingly difficult, which leads to lack of communication, and then the real trouble sets in.

I took a close look at my finances to see if I could take time off, but with the costs involved of bring up a baby, I couldn’t afford the 12 unpaid weeks that the government offers fathers.

The resolution

As I waited in the airport arrivals for Shweta and Shreya, I felt anxious. Then I saw them and my heart melted. As I embraced them, I thanked God for the luck that I have. 

As much as I love my friends and relations popping round, we have decided that they can only see our daughter one day a week. New parents need time, not just with the baby but with each other. My family and my in-laws accept this and are very supportive. I have also stopped working Saturdays, which makes a difference.

My best friend recently said how much he envied me. I couldn’t understand why - he is single, handsome and enjoys the dating scene. But, he explained, he has no one to to share his affections with. In addition, I realise now how lucky we are that Shweta became pregnant so quickly. I know that many couples try for years to have children, but I took it for granted how straightforward it would be. 

My outlook is a lot more positive now and in a society that is breaking down, I've realised that I actually have a stability most people crave for.

Where to next?

• Are you a new father? How did you find the first few weeks after the birth of you child? Share your experiences and talk to other dads on our Fatherhood discussion forum.
• Visit our section just for dads for information to help you through the pregnancy and birth experience.