“I didn’t know who I was as a Dad.”
The “Before”: The 11/10 life
My son is now 4.5 years old, and what a slog it has been. There are definitely more ups than down now, but man it has taken a long time to fully appreciate the ups. You don’t hear of paternal postnatal depression very often. I’d never heard of it, but that’s what I experienced. In fact it was paternal perinatal depression. It hit me pretty much as soon as I found out my wife was pregnant.
Putting this into context, prior to having our son I was incredibly happy. I can’t say I really enjoyed my work, but it gave me flexibility and freedom to put lots of time into my relationships, social life, personal growth, hobbies. Specifically this meant wildlife photography, and for a while I thought I may turn that into a career.
My relationship with my wife was an 11/10. We were always having fun. They were joyful days. We had a social life. We could pretty much do what we wanted. Everything was going so well that I remember having a phone call with a good mate of mine, where I recall saying, “everything is going too well, it’s almost too comfortable. I think I need a new challenge.” And so the challenge began, and continues…
Now having a kid was not what I had in mind. I had never wanted a kid, and perhaps that’s why having one hit me so hard. My wife and I spoke about it, and she was on the fence, but suspected she would want to try at some point. As it turned out we didn’t need to, it happened organically. Or as I would call it an accident, but many people don’t like that term. But it was. And if I’m being really honest, for years I thought it was a ‘mistake’. Which really gets people going.
I wasn’t prepared at all. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who I was as a Dad.
I didn’t know how to be. I guess I never really thought it would actually happen. When having the discussions with my wife I arrogantly had said that I thought I’d handle having a kid better, than she would handle the regret of not having one. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but in the early years of his life, that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
The “Fall”: From High-Performer to Robot
My whole attitude to work and finances changed. It was this profound mindset shift to one of enjoyment, high-achieving and personal growth to… ‘we’re going to struggle’. ‘We’ll have no time’. And throughout the pregnancy I became this robot to work. I buried myself in it. It got to the point near the due date where I said, “you can’t have the baby before this date because I have a big project to finish”.
I started snapping at my wife. Something I’d never previously done before. I turned from this laid-back guy, to this anxious, worried guy, who had outbursts like never before. And this carried on from 2-3 months of pregnancy, to probably when our son was around 3 years old. Something I’ve found is a very common sign of depression in men.
The first couple of months after our son was born was just survival. It wasn’t just the disrupted nights; it was chronic sleep deprivation. Our son had reflux, and I spent most nights marching around the house as the only way to stop it. We had to keep moving to calm him. And with that came the alcohol consumption.
My wife became upset that she didn’t know how to comfort her own baby, and that I was having to do so much, when she wanted me to do as little as possible. This was her idea, not mine. I was stepping up to support her. To be the rock. It was the only thing I knew to try and be. I became the logistics guy.
When the Thoughts Turned Dark
“I had thoughts of harming our son. I had thoughts of ‘accidentally’ dropping him down the stairs…I even had these bizarre thoughts of spinning him like a rugby ball out of our open front windows.“
As this was going on I had too much time to think, and I had all sorts of thoughts. I had thoughts of harming our son. I had thoughts of ‘accidentally’ dropping him down the stairs…I even had these bizarre thoughts of spinning him like a rugby ball out of our open front windows.
It turns out there’s a name for this called ‘harm OCD’, and it’s actually very common. These thoughts brought more fear, that if something did actually happen to him everything would fall on me, everyone would blame me, as it was known I didn’t want a kid. I couldn’t tell anyone about this.
A regular thought was “why the fuck did we have a kid?” We had gone from this blissful way of living to one big headache. Everything was harder. Everything was changed in an instant. We had no time for ourselves, no time for each other, and everything we did revolved around our kid. All my hopes and dreams seemed to be gone. I lost my identity to fatherhood.
And for a long time, I had no positive feelings whatsoever towards our baby. I was just trying to help my wife as best I could.
For months, I’d walk our dog with my sunglasses on every day, whatever the weather, because I was sobbing. I was ruminating about everything my life had turned to. Why everything had changed? Was I not enough? Why was I so pathetic? Who would want to be with anyone like me anyway, when I’m like this?
The rumination was toxic.
And if you ask your brain the wrong questions, it will find supporting answers for you. It spiralled and spiralled, adding more thoughts on as I went deeper into them.
I felt trapped. I couldn’t do anything for myself. My new life was to be just a family. I could see my wife struggling. I felt I couldn’t leave. I didn’t know how this was going to end, and I couldn’t understand how so many people would say “this is the best thing that ever happened to me” and seemed so happy. “Why the fuck is this the best thing that ever happened to you?”
“Why the fuck is this the best thing that ever happened to you?”
I was numb…until I’d rage. I couldn’t handle it. I’d erupt like a volcano. I broke things. I put my fist through a wall.
I never harmed anyone physically, but the toll it took on my wife and my son is undeniable. 4 years on, and I can see how he’s learnt from me, and what he learnt about me.
“I was numb until I’d rage. I couldn’t handle it. I’d erupt like a volcano. I broke things. I put my fist through a wall.”
GUILT AND SHAME
I felt guilty. I should be happy. We have a healthy baby. How can I be so ungrateful? Some people have it way worse. I felt shame for the way I felt. That I didn’t love my son. That when he reached out to cuddle other people, I’d never had a cuddle myself, and it didn’t bother me.
My relationship with my wife suffered for years. We became roommates who barely spoke. If we had any nights off, we’d get drunk to feel some semblance of our normal selves. But our disconnected relationship lasted 4 years, and is very slowly coming back.
It affected my work. I didn’t know what to do. I knew what I didn’t want. I had ideas of what to do, but I didn’t know how to get there. I couldn’t take a risk with a baby or even a child. We needed the money. I was stuck in work I hated, and became bogged down by indecision as to how to get myself out.
I thought I could just work through it. I could man up. I could tough it out. I could develop some resilience. I could apply some of these principles that all the self-help / personal development people have and tell you to do, and that has become expected of men. And in a couple of weeks, it’ll all be fine. Those couple of weeks never came. Those weeks became months. Those months turned into over a year before I sought help.
THE ‘TURNING POINT’ AFTER 20 MONTHS IN THE DARK
It took me 20 months.
“I’d drive back from work along a high-speed road, thinking of turning my car wheel into oncoming vehicles.”
This wasn’t a one-off; it was a regular occurrence. Then one day I realised if I can’t control my thoughts, what if I can’t control myself at the wheel?
As soon as I got home, I called a Dr. I was diagnosed with “Paternal Postnatal Depression.” A condition that affects 1 in 10 men but remains largely invisible in our culture.
It was still a couple of months before my therapy would start, but just knowing I was getting help lifted a weight for those couple of months. Though I still didn’t tell my wife.
I was signed up to a Father’s group CBT course. I wanted solo therapy, but as soon as I was in the group, I realised it wasn’t just me. This was a thing. The other guys in the group were having similar struggles. They had similar signs of male depression. They’d felt the identity loss in fatherhood, and the disconnected relationships were all too common.
This helped, to a point. But it didn’t correct things overnight. It was a very slow, gradual, and deliberate process. It took until my son was 3 and a half for the rages to stop, although they happened less frequently as the time went on. There were still dark moments, some very low points. And the relationship with my wife is still a work in progress.
What it did do was make me learn a lot about male psychology and male mental health. I looked into perinatal and postnatal depression, and learnt about how it looked, and the signs of depression in men. I spoke with people. Healthcare experts. Other dads. I was vocal about what I’d gone through, and with that, there was a big shift. My friends no longer mocked me for how I felt about having a kid; they realised it was serious, even if they couldn’t understand it.
It was as if everyone I spoke to about it had something to say on it. One person I spoke to even said that a friend of hers had killed themselves because of it.
“If you’re looking for the 1 in 10 men amongst your group of friends and you can’t see who it is that has it… it’s because it’s you.”
A SPACE WITHOUT SHAME
And that’s why I’m creating this. A space for men to have this conversation without shame. A space for those who don’t want to share to listen. To realise that it’s not uncommon.
The research says 1 in 10 men experience paternal postnatal depression. If you’re looking for the 1 in 10 men amongst your group of friends and you can’t see who it is that has it…it’s because it’s you. I felt that, and it took me a while to realise it.
I’m still on this journey. I don’t have all the answers, but I’m finding them, and I’m building a resource I wish I had. One Dad, John, who is now a friend, and with whom I speak on this podcast, was a high-achieving father, who, whilst isn’t certain he experienced paternal postnatal depression (because he hadn’t heard of it), he recognised that the signs of it were there, and said “just speaking with you about this helped me”.
There are many men out there who don’t feel they have anyone to speak to. They may not think they are suffering from depression, parental burnout or other mental ill health. If having these conversations can help one person, and then another person, to relieve these feelings, then this is a win. And whilst my experience was with paternal perinatal depression, many other mental illnesses affect men, and there are often similar signs of depression in men, that looks different to those women experience.
There is a stigma attached to male mental suffering. There is a stigma attached to men being aggressive. Leaning into addictions. But how often do we look deeper and ask why? What’s the cause?
Who is this podcast is for? It’s for me 5 years ago. It’s for a dad, who’s successful in his career. The dad who has lost his identity in fatherhood. The dad who feels shame and guilt for missing his old life, or for raging, numbing out, becoming addicted. The man that feels disconnected from his family and who’s hopes and dreams are gone. It’s for the fathers that thought they had it all figured out, but now feel lost, and feel like a failure as a man, as a partner and a professional.
And the man who wants to learn and grow through this. Or perhaps it’s for a partner or family member looking to understand what someone they know might be going through.
THE ROAD AHEAD
I am building the resource I wish I’d had five years ago. A space for men to have this conversation without shame.
If you’re ready to start naming the weight you’re carrying, you can grab a copy of my 10-page guide, ‘The Silent Load’, which breaks down the 7 things we (dads) carry but rarely talk about.
Join the Conversation on the Of Minds & Men Podcast, where we drop the bullshit and talk honestly about the reality of being a father and a professional.