In the newborn trenches, my definition of fathering took on new meaning

My favourite thing about Mother’s Day is how much it’s changing. We’ve abandoned the ridiculous notion that supermarket slippers and badly made breakfasts in bed are the only things that make mum happy. We’ve embraced the reality that many mothers crave nothing more than a day outside their children’s company.

Fathering is an important part of how we experience life, and often emerges in surprising moments.Credit:iStpcl

And we’ve firmly established that “mother” isn’t only a noun but very much a verb as well. While I have a truly excellent mum, I’ve also benefited from the mothering of many incredible women – be they aunts or friends of my parents, mentors or managers, bosses or babysitters – who have nurtured, consoled, celebrated and loved me.

A solid hundred words into this column about Father’s Day, I suppose I had better stop talking about mothers and make my point. It’s this: why hasn’t our celebration of fathering evolved? Why, in the era of Bandit from Bluey, do we still fail to properly acknowledge the fathering roles played by so many people in our lives, and the lives of our kids?

When I was eight, my dad became briefly but seriously unwell. During the rare hours my mum left the hospital, Dad’s best mates took her place. They even managed to talk their way into the ICU as his “golf partners”. They visited us at home, bringing giggles and presents for my sister and me, at
a time we craved fatherly attention.

Fast forward to year 12, and I found myself in a maths class well beyond my natural abilities. My friend Gurleen refused to let me fall behind. He gave up his lunchtimes and shared copious instructional notes, making space for me to have fun and learn. I never would have got through without his patience and humour.

After moving to Sydney as a 20-something, I lived with Camden and Josh, two uni mates. I was single and dating up a storm, counting down the days to each Friday and Saturday. Those glorious blokes would always check I got home okay at night, help me choose an outfit for a date and console me if I ended up broken-hearted. They were protective and dependable, and they made our share house a home.

Being a father and engaging in fathering behaviour is about so much more than initial biological responsibility.

Human beings are among only 5 per cent of mammals with fathers that invest in their young for more than a passing moment. A change in brain chemistry means the new father’s focus is redirected from his search for a mate because it’s being rewarded for the (tiny) human connection he’s formed. It keeps him coming back for more.

While studies in this space are limited, adoptive fathers appear to demonstrate similar hormonal changes. More activity and connectivity have been observed in the part of the brain associated with empathy and problem solving. Being a father and engaging in fathering behaviour is about so much more than initial biological responsibility. Fathering is an important part of how we experience life, and often emerges in surprising moments.

When my son was born, a male midwife taught my husband Jeremy how to breastfeed using a pillow. The seriousness with which they approached the task was both heart-warming and highly useful. A day or two later, at home in the middle of the night with a newborn who wouldn’t latch, it was my Jeremy who calmly and methodically talked me through the mechanics of my own body.

Four months later, Jeremy and I were sitting at an inner-city Melbourne cafe. We were exhausted and reminiscing about our “old life” when a mate of ours, Nick, then single and childless, wandered past. He made polite noises about the baby and then, perhaps realising how bone-tired we were, offered to take our son for the evening.

Perhaps it was sleep deprivation, but we handed our son over and went out for wine and meatballs. Hours later, when we arrived at Nick’s apartment, he confessed that he’d never looked after a baby before – but that they’d had a ripper of a time. I remember watching our beautiful son, sleeping in the middle of a queen-sized bed, lovingly surrounded by a fort of pillows so he wouldn’t roll over and fall.

I have struggled since to find the words to describe Nick’s whimsical act of generosity. It was more than an act of mere friendship or kindness – it was fathering.

I’m so grateful for the men in my life, and the men in my son’s life, who have shared their care, affection and guidance. They complement the steadfast love and support of my own dad and my son’s father. I wish each one of them a happy Father’s Day, however confusing they might find it.

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