I’m a dad of two. I’m also someone whose professional life is spent talking about culture, inclusion, and what it means for companies to support people beyond the words in their policies. Becoming a father forced me to confront how much of what I thought I believed about care, work, and masculinity lived beneath the surface.
Taking paternity leave didn’t just change how I parent. It changed how I lead, how I set boundaries, and how clearly I now see the gap between entitlement and experience. I’ve taken paternity leave twice, in two different companies, under very different circumstances. What surprised me most is that the first time, when the policy was most generous, I felt the most guilt. The second time, with less leave available, I felt far more confident.
2021: Generous policy, quiet guilt
When my first son was born, I was working at a professional services firm with what was an exceptional parental leave offering. I was entitled to four weeks of paternity leave at full pay. Because my wife was teaching at the time, I was also able to take an additional eight weeks of shared parental leave, again at full pay.
On paper, it was everything advocates of shared care argue for. time, financial security, and permission.
Despite knowing I was entitled to that leave, I felt a low-level guilt I couldn’t quite shake. We were just starting to plan a conference I was expected to coordinate, and I worried about being absent or seen as less committed, even though the policy was clear.
I found myself hovering. Dialling into calls. Checking emails. Trying to stay visible while telling myself I was present at home. Eventually, the Partner I was working for had to tell me, very clearly, not to dial into meetings. Not as a suggestion, but as an instruction.
That moment stayed with me. It made me realise that policy alone can’t undo years of conditioning about availability, productivity, and what men are expected to prioritise.
That first period of parental leave was still transformative. Being home in those early months allowed me to build routines, confidence, and a deep connection with my son. It also showed me how intense and relentless early care really is, and how much we underestimate it when paternity leave is framed as a “nice extra”. It exposed how much cultural permission still matters, even when the formal conditions are right.
2025: Less leave, clearer priorities
By the time my second son was born, a lot had changed. I was working in a completely different industry, construction, at Balfour Beatty. I was still entitled to four weeks of paternity leave at full pay, which I recognise isn’t a given everywhere.
My wife had also changed careers, which meant we no longer had access to the same level of shared parental leave. If I wanted more time at home, it would need to come from somewhere else. I was able to buy an additional two weeks of annual leave as part of the benefits offering, which was needed as I’d only joined a few months before the baby arrived.
On the face of it, this was a constrained experience. Smaller entitlement, more financial considerations, more logistics to manage, and a 4 year old already in the mix.
And yet, this leave was far easier for me.
I didn’t feel the same pull to stay connected to work. Not because I cared any less, but because I no longer felt the need to justify my absence or reassure people that everything was under control. I was clear this time mattered and that I wouldn’t get it back.
What had changed wasn’t the policy. It was me. The first experience had taught me what full presence looked like and why it mattered. I’d seen the difference it made to my wife, my son, our shared sense of responsibility, and my own confidence as a dad. I was no longer willing to compromise that because of optics or unspoken expectations.
What taking paternity leave gave me
Across both experiences, paternity leave gave me a deeper understanding of care as a daily, continuous responsibility rather than an abstract idea. The exhaustion. The repetition. The learning curve. The moments of quiet joy in between.
It fundamentally changed my relationship with my children. I didn’t feel like I was “helping” or stepping in temporarily. I felt fully responsible, capable, and involved from the very beginning.
It also changed my relationship with my wife. Sharing care early set a tone that has carried through our parenting. We figured things out together, rather than falling into default roles based on who was at work and who was at home.
It changed how I show up at work too. Nursery drop offs and pick ups go in my calendar without apology. I’m open about leaving early when needed, and honest when I have to step away because someone is sick. Rather than smoothing over those moments, I name them as part of my working reality. That honesty hasn’t reduced my commitment, but it has changed expectations around availability, for me and for others.
I’m clearer now about what deserves urgency and what doesn’t. I’m a better leader because I took paternity leave.
What I would say to other dads
If you’re unsure about taking your paternity leave, however long it is, feeling conflicted doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful or uncommitted. It means you’re navigating a system that still sends mixed signals about men, care, and work.
If you can take the leave, take it. Even if it feels uncomfortable. Especially if it feels uncomfortable. You don’t need to earn the right to be present in your child’s early life. The confidence comes from doing the care, not from waiting until you feel ready.
What I would say to employers
If employers want dads to take paternity leave, policy is essential, but it’s not enough.
Dads need to see other dads, especially senior ones, taking leave without penalty. They need explicit encouragement, not quiet acceptance. They need leaders who say, out loud, that being fully offline is expected.
The impact of paternity leave goes far beyond fathers. When dads take meaningful time away from work early on, it benefits women. It reduces the assumption that mothers will be the default carers, and makes it easier for women to sustain their careers without carrying the full weight of care alone.
From a business perspective, this matters. More evenly shared care supports retention, reduces burnout, and builds more sustainable talent pipelines. Normalising men taking leave breaks the pattern where flexibility is treated as a “women’s issue”, with hidden career penalties.
Paternity leave isn’t just a cost. It’s a lever for cultural change.
What I wish I had known
I wish I’d known the first time that guilt wasn’t a signal that I was doing something wrong. It was a signal that the culture still had work to do.
I’ve taken paternity leave twice, and those experiences have shaped how I parent, work, and understand care. I’m done having children myself, but I’m not done talking about what that time taught me. Taking paternity leave wasn’t just a benefit I used. It was a decision that aligned my values at home with the ones I claim to hold at work. If sharing this helps one dad feel more confident about taking leave, or one employer realise that permission matters as much as policy, then it is worth saying out loud.