This one’s from a dad.

I’ve got two girls. Two under two. And if I’m honest, nothing really prepares you for what that does to your head, your heart, or your sense of responsibility.

Watching Anna (my wife) give birth, twice, is still the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. It honestly felt like watching her step into something she was made for. Her moment. Her Champions League final.

Suddenly the baby is here and you can be a little more hands-on compared to the 9 months before that. Changing nappies. Burping. Holding them. But the reality is… in those early days, mum keeps the baby alive.

And you keep her alive.

The bit nobody sees

Those first couple of weeks feel like a bubble. You’re running on adrenaline. You’re in it together and nothing else really matters.

But then week three hits and life starts creeping back in… work, food shops, laundry. Suddenly you’re trying to balance everything while your baby is still completely dependent on your partner. That’s where it got hard for me. There’s this weird guilt.

You’re leaving the house, going back to “normal life,” while your partner is in the thick of it. And no one really talks about what that does to your head.

The low-level anxiety.

You stop thinking about what you can prove to the world…and start thinking about what you’re responsible for.

That weight can sit quietly on you.

You can’t fix everything

One of the hardest things for me was feeling like I couldn’t take the weight off Anna. Every instinct in you says: fix it, solve it, make it better.

But you can’t always. And trying to can sometimes make it worse.

There’s a frustration in that.I’m learning that the most helpful thing isn’t always practical. It’s being there, really there. Listening. Letting things be said out loud without rushing to correct them, that’s harder than it sounds and still very much a work on.

Your relationship changes (but not forever)

With a newborn and especially with a toddler in the mix you can feel like passing ships. One parent per child, tag-teaming life.There were definitely moments where I thought, is this just how it is now?

And if I’m honest, that thought lingers more than you expect. What helped was hearing other dads say the exact same thing and remind me that it doesn’t last forever. As the months go on, you start to reclaim time together again but it doesn’t just happen. You have to be intentional because the default becomes the kids.

And while they need everything from you… your relationship is still the thing everything else flows from.

No one tells you about the second child

With our second, I expected it to feel easier and in some ways it was, but in other ways, it was harder. The thing I didn’t expect? How much I’d think about our first.

Making sure she still felt loved and that she didn’t feel replaced. You can’t sit a two-year-old down and explain everything over a coffee and that’s the tricky part. I remember lying awake some nights thinking about her. But now the girls are nearly 1 and 3 and they love each other fiercely. So I think we did okay.

What actually helps

For me, a few things made a huge difference. Talking to other dads was big. They could name things I was feeling but didn’t have words for yet. Anna checking in on me and saying, “your feelings matter too.” That stuck with me more than she probably realised. And learning I’m not going to be able to fix everything, but I can listen.

Final thought

Dads don’t always talk about this stuff, It can feel like your role is just to get on with it in a boomer sort of way. To be strong. To keep things moving.

But there’s a lot happening quietly under the surface. Pressure. Overthinking. And just because you’re not the one recovering physically… doesn’t mean you’re not being shaped by it too.

So if you’re feeling it, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to just park it for later.

Talk about it. That’s a good place to start.