We didn’t. We were lucky. A life-changing experience for us was seemingly on the easier end of procedures for the hospital staff who were incredible throughout and who I could thank every minute of every remaining day I have and it still not feel enough.

We welcomed our beautiful daughter into the world and left the hospital with a stack of postnatal support information for my partner. Having also been present for what was a roller-coaster of emotions, from calm to panic to fear to sheer joy and elation, all whilst being
utterly out of control, I also thought some support might be useful. I had asked the midwife, who hurriedly printed off a few webpages, unformatted and barely readable. She went above and beyond and I was thankful, although I could have easily found them myself on a Google search. There isn’t a wealth of available support and information for new dads to sift through. I wondered how many dads had found themselves in the same position.

On mental health

Any 4th trimester is hard. Those first few months of not knowing which way is up and what cry means what. Our whole world shaken up like a snow globe of emotions to manage, all whilst keeping a little human alive. Potentially the biggest impact on anyone’s mental health,
at a time it’s likely to be the least prioritised. I count myself so fortunate to be amongst a community of men in the Men’s Table where I can share the avalanche of thoughts and feelings, helping them to settle and evaporate away.

Research estimates that 8–13% of new fathers experience clinical depression in the perinatal period [1], with some studies placing this higher. With so many competing thoughts between my ears and contrasting opinions online, I found it a perfect storm to ruminate.

It’s lovely to hear people say they were head over heels in love with their baby from the first second. But that wasn’t me. Sure, I loved what she represented, the concept of being a parent, the idea of helping someone grow and flourish. But I didn’t know this child yet, how
could I truly say I love THEM. I imagine that can be a slippery slope.

In the past, the thought of “am I feeling this enough?” has been all too familiar for me. But what is enough?

That thought itself actually blocks the very thing you are wanting to feel, leading to more overthinking about not feeling. A vicious loop I suspect sits at the centre of postnatal depression for many. I still struggle with this but try to stay present by acknowledging the struggle rather than fighting it. And I know I’m not the only one in our house navigating who I am becoming. My partner is in the middle of her own profound transformation, one that is no less seismic, and in many ways far more so.

There isn’t a rulebook or guide for the feelings you must feel, or to what extent, at any stage of parenthood. Or life for that matter. It’s personal to the individual, I try to remind myself of that. My thoughts and feelings are all valid.

After a few weeks of learning my daughter’s personality I am absolutely feeling new dimensions of love I never knew existed. I know this was only made possible by not expecting to feel something specific. By sitting with the discomfort of experiencing conflicting feelings, such as having immense love for her, but not loving her yet.

And that hasn’t been the only duality so far. As well as experiencing more anxiety about providing for her future, I’ve simultaneously felt less anxiety around future goals and ambitions.

As well as wanting to be the best version of myself for her, I’ve tried to be kinder to myself when I’ve fallen short of that. It seems to me that being a parent is getting comfortable with holding multiple things that on the surface may be at conflict with each other and accepting
they can all be true.

There are days where that is really hard, especially when I’m low on energy. Trying to reflect on one thought seems like Mount Everest, let alone multiple thoughts, all competing. There are days I struggle with what it now means to ‘be me’. And what it means to ‘be a father’.

On identity

I’ve always prided myself on being calm, collected and, to not be too concerned with anything beyond my control. Well, that’s nowhere near as easy with a newborn around. Sleep deprivation and someone else’s schedule has thrown that all out of whack. Being me
is very different in 2026 to last year, and certainly 10 years ago. And I remind myself that is OK. Accepting things change makes it far easier than clinging on, white knuckled, to a previous unobtainable version of ourselves. And humour makes things easier – like my partner’s rendition of “Tiny Dictator”, sang to the tune of Elton John’s, Tiny Dancer to lighten the fact we are, nowhere near, in control.

A previous version of me was able to invest more time in fitness and going to the gym. The new me simultaneously rues the fact I can just about lift only 70% of the heavy things I could nine months ago, whilst acknowledging that a lack of sleep and even nature is against me
maintaining and building strength at the moment. I take comfort that I am not alone – new fathers can experience a ~34% decrease in testosterone, a hormone known to be important for strength, as an evolutionary mechanism to make way for an increase in oxytocin,
important for bonding [2].

What would I prefer – more strength or a greater bond? For me, that’s not a hard one.

I’ve accepted that, for now, staying tuned in to fitness and nutrition maybe 50% of what I used to is enough. I love food. I love science. And also knowing that sleep deprivation causes our hunger hormone (ghrelin) to rise and the satiety hormone (leptin) that makes us feel full to decrease [3], arms me with the mental ammo to say f*ck it – it’s ok to pick up that burger, order fries, or demolish a pizza.

My point is, in these first 4 months I have found myself both being hard on myself and going easy on myself – and I can say it is the latter of the two which puts me in the best place to be the best I can be for her. She doesn’t care if her dad is lifting less in the gym, she just cares that I am there, as calm and present in fatherhood as possible.

On fatherhood

Fatherhood. Hmm… A word I struggle with. Like many, I didn’t have the greatest blueprint. I have more intel on what not to do than what to do. I do strongly believe we are not bystanders at this stage, we do not suddenly become ‘useful’; for fun, encouragement and exploring the world when a child turns two. As men we have a role not just to support around the house but to get our hands dirty from day one. There is no binary: masculine = providing for the family, feminine = nurturing the family, and men and women strictly possessing one trait or the other. Men have a role in nurturing too, and research has shown that fathers are also biologically primed to parent, undergoing hormonal and neurological changes that prepare them for caregiving even before birth [4]

There are systemic barriers of course, and I can only imagine the long-term positive impact we might see in Australia if we adopted more Scandinavian ways of thinking about parental leave, where countries like Iceland and Sweden reserve 3-months of paid leave specifically
for fathers [5]. But that’s a whole other topic of conversation and out of many peoples’ control. What is within our control is how we show up for our children when we are there. To be present, to hold, to hug, to laugh, to own our mistakes and admit when we are wrong.
Our daughter already has a sixth sense and stern gaze on the occasions that my mind slips,
and I look at a phone screen when I’m with her. And she deserves better that.

I haven’t reconciled my thoughts on the word fatherhood and what it means to be a father. What I have reconciled is that when I think about it too much, it actually takes away from being a present father. At the end of the day, I believe that my role as a father, our role as
parents, all of our roles as humans, is to help guide our little people and future generations with the experience and knowledge that we have.

To guide, not direct. To offer options, not tell. And the word ‘guide’ feels far less of a behemoth of a word to wrap my head around than “father”.

And in our household, there is no hierarchy, we are all guides. My partner and my daughter have guided me to feel versions of love I could never imagine existed and could never conceivably be put into words. I just hope I am giving them at least a fraction of what they
are giving me.

~ Dan Ball
Baldivis and Port Kennedy, WA