With a new baby, it wasn’t just the exhaustion or the new rhythm of life that came in a big way. It was the quiet, heavy realization that the world now looked to me to be the "steady one." It was unspoken: I had to be strong, I had to provide, and I had to hold everything together. But inside, I started to feel like I was quietly coming apart at the seams.

Growing up, there wasn’t a space to recognise, own, and share my feelings openly. I was conditioned that emotions were something to be managed privately, or better yet, ignored. So when the pressure of fatherhood hit, I did what I knew best: I withdrew. I found myself emotionally retreating, freezing up when things got tense because I simply didn't have the tools to express what was happening inside me. I was present in body, sitting right there on the couch, but I was miles away in spirit, completely disconnected. To make things worse, I had lost my job two months just before the baby arrived. The pressure to provide for the family financially weighed heavily on me.

I lived with an internal monologue that told me I didn't deserve to struggle. I watched my wife go through the grueling rigors of IVF treatments, the intensity of labor, and the relentless pain of breastfeeding and engorgement, the sleepless nights where I just simply couldn’t wake up and didn’t know how to help. Compared to what she had endured, my exhaustion felt small or even selfish. I felt like I didn’t deserve the care or the intimacy that used to be the bedrock of our relationship because her cup was so clearly empty. I didn't want to be another "task" for her to manage, so I stayed silent, and in that silence, I felt the gap between us grow.

The birth of our child brings so much joy, there are moments of pure delight that I wouldn't trade for anything but it also brings about shifts in a relationship that we just don’t talk about enough. The "us" we used to be is suddenly replaced by an endless list of to-dos and the transition can feel like losing your footing. For me, the turning point didn’t happen in isolation. It started when we sought out couple’s counselling to work out the difficult conversations. It was the first time I felt I had permission to speak my truth without feeling like I was "taking away" from her experience. It gave us a shared language to navigate this massive identity shift as a team rather than as two people struggling in separate rooms.

Beyond therapy, what truly helped was breaking the seal of silence with the people around us. We started inviting friends over and talking about our issues openly. Realising that other fathers and couples were navigating the same murky waters took the shame out of it. Reaching out for support and admitting that I was overwhelmed and that I didn't have all the answers was the most courageous thing I could have done for my family. I’ve learned that I don’t have to be all put together to be a good father; I just have to be willing to acknowledge that I don’t have all the answers and I’m still a work-in-progress.