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BEN AND ESME
BEN AND ESME

ParentsOctober 28, 2016

About to become a single dad? Here’s the first thing you should do

Guest writer
BEN AND ESME
BEN AND ESME

Becoming a single parent can be scary and confusing. Ben Tafau shares his lessons from his journey as a solo dad in the hopes that it might help other fathers going through the same thing.

Becoming a single dad was by far the biggest challenge I’ve faced to date. Separation can be a devastating event during which it’s easy to be overwhelmed by emotions – heartache, pain, confusion, panic, fear, feeling like a failure, and more. But it’s important to stay focused on what’s important, and for me that’s confirming parenting arrangements for your child(ren) with your former partner as soon as possible.

If you can work out the parenting arrangements outside of court it will be best for everyone involved, saving a lot of time, stress and money. If the timing isn’t right to have that discussion straightaway, think about how you want to approach sharing care of your children and start working towards that immediately, while waiting for the right moment to discuss it with your former partner.

Ben and his daughter as a baby
Ben and his daughter as a baby

Shared parenting: my primary objective from day one

I always knew that in the event that my relationship with my daughter’s mother ended I would want 50/50 shared care of my daughter, and I made my intentions clear from the beginning of the separation process. I was fortunate that I did not have to go through the court system to confirm this, so for those dads who are about to go through separation it is important to state clearly what you want from the beginning.

Hint: Find the secret support ‘power ups’

Find out what services and support you are eligible for when going through a separation process, and take advantage of these where appropriate. When I went through the separation process at the start of 2013, the Family Court provided separating couples with a number of free sessions with a counsellor for final reconciliation attempts, or to help them come to an agreement on final terms of separation and care/co-parenting arrangements. At the time of publication of this article, the Family Court provides a Family Disputes Resolution mediation service which provides an impartial mediator to help you reach an agreement regarding ongoing parent arrangements (this service may be free if you qualify for funding), and free Parenting through Separation courses to help you plan for caring for your child(ren) after separation.

You might also be eligible for free and confidential counselling sessions or other forms of support through your employer via programmes such as EAP or Vitae, so talk to your manager or human resources department to see what you are entitled to (or check out your company’s website/intranet for direct contact details if you don’t feel comfortable discussing this with your colleagues).

Even if you aren’t entitled to any support, you may want to pay for or share the costs of a professional who can act as a mediator to help determine final agreements which are fair and agreeable for both parents. It would be wise to find out as much as you can about what support you can access and make full use of it where possible.

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A word of warning about counsellors Make sure that you find a counsellor that you’re both happy with, otherwise you run the risk of a less than satisfactory outcome for one or both parents. I’ve had experiences with both good and bad counsellors, and the ones that aren’t working can actually make things worse rather than better.

You won’t always have the luxury of time to shop around for counsellors (as was true in my case), but this is such a crucial part of the separation process that it’s important that the right person is involved.

If it’s possible to do some research on potential counsellors beforehand I’d highly recommend it, because the wrong person can add significant layers of stress to an already stressful process, and can have a significant impact in your life moving forward. Some things you might want to look at:

  • If they have experience working with separating couples involving children
  • If they use any particular counselling techniques or methods, and if you think these will be appropriate in your situation
  • How they structure their counselling sessions, and what their plan may be for your sessions.

Why shared parenting?

For me, a shared parenting arrangement was a no-brainer but a lot of people were (and still are) surprised when I tell them that I have shared care of my daughter – especially those who believe the stereotype of men avoiding responsibility for their kids. In situations where there are no safety concerns or ongoing conflict between the parents, children can benefit from having significant contact with both of their parents. I wanted to make sure that I was always there for my daughter as she grows up.

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‘Dad up’ now to prevent future heartache

I’ll be honest: working full-time and having shared care of your child(ren) is no walk in the park! The easier option might be having less contact time with your kids so that you can get back on your feet. However, keep in mind that the choices you make at the beginning of your separation may affect your future access rights. It may seem like a good idea to have less access to your child(ren) initially so you can get through that tough transition phase, especially if you have other responsibilities such as a full-time job or finding a new place to live. However if you end up having to go to court to decide the care arrangement for your child, any initial care arrangements (even if intended to be temporary), may affect the final decisions by family courts/authorities.

A friend of mine, one of the first people I turned to for advice during my separation process, went through the court system to decide the care arrangement for his daughter. Unfortunately, his lawyer told him (incorrectly) that he could forego custody of his child initially (as he was living and working in a different city from the child’s mother) and change the care arrangement at a later date. When he tried to make changes to the care arrangement later on, he found out that he had in fact given up custody of his child permanently, and it was entirely up to the mother’s discretion whether the care arrangement could be amended.

So when it comes to care arrangements, it’s best to start an arrangement you intend to carry on in the future, even though it might be tough in the outset while you’re going through the transition into ‘1 Player parenting mode’ and taking care of your other responsibilities.

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Can you do it? As Parappa the Rappa says, ‘You gotta believe!’

One of the barriers to men assuming shared responsibility for raising their child is that men are generally seen as not being as ‘natural’ parents compared to women. Sure, there are differences in the way men and women do things, and men don’t usually spend time talking to other men about becoming parents and choosing baby names, but I believe that this is a limiting perspective that disempowers fathers from their roles as parents, and short-changes children from benefitting from their father’s love and guidance.

When my daughter was on the way, to be honest I was pretty much clueless. My friends laughed that I didn’t even know how to hold a baby properly, and I looked ridiculously awkward trying to hold other people’s babies! But the funny thing is that I found I adapted to my new role as a dad very quickly, basically because I had to. There was no time to muck about – right from day one you have to get stuck in and just do it. Yes, you’ll make mistakes and many things will be awkward initially, but you learn and adapt, and things get easier.

So don’t underestimate your ability to be a great dad on your own. Yes, it’s tough, it takes a lot of time and effort, and you’re constantly learning as your child grows. You may have to sacrifice time spent on other things like sports and socialising, at least in the short term. But I found that the rewards far outweighed the costs, and that when I eventually got the hang of parenting in ‘1 Player Mode’, I was able to work out ways to work those other things back into my life.

My advice is: Talk to your parents, talk to other parents, read books, go online and do the research, but most of all, believe in your ability to become a great dad.

More Reading

    Here are a few online resources to help you in your parenting journey:

    • Solo Parents NZ Trust – A non-profit organisation with the aim to support, educate and connect solo parents in New Zealand
    • Life of Dad – celebrating the adventures of fatherhood with entertainment, humour and discussion on the world of fatherhood
    • The Dad Network – UK based website looking at parenting from the dad’s perspective
    • 1 Player Dad – and of course a little plug for my blog, where I share my journey playing the two-player parenting game in ‘1 Player Mode’ and practical advice for other dads going through similar experiences.

    The best power up you can have in 1 Player Mode

    Finally, I found that one of the most significant benefits of sharing parenting is that it’s your child(ren) that will help you get through this time the most. At the end of the day, all of your efforts are for them, and no matter what I went through in those early stages of my separation and transition into 1 Player mode, my daughter’s smiles, hugs and kisses made everything worthwhile. And even though it was a mission and a half working full-time, travelling for work, and looking after my daughter four nights a week, I treasured the time with my daughter then and now, and wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s possibly one of the toughest things you’ll ever do, especially if you are still learning to be a parent yourself, but it’s definitely worth it in my book.

    Ben Tafau is a single dad with shared care of his daughter, playing the ‘two player parenting game’ in 1 Player Mode. You can read more about his experiences at his blog 1 Player Dad and on Facebook. This post is based on an excerpt from his free ebook The 1 Player Dad Strategy Guide

    Keep going!
    Photo: Jacky Lam / Getty Images
    Photo: Jacky Lam / Getty Images

    ParentsOctober 27, 2016

    Birth trauma is real – and we need to start talking about it

    Photo: Jacky Lam / Getty Images
    Photo: Jacky Lam / Getty Images

    Giving birth can be a traumatic experience for some women and when that happens recovery can take a long time. Dana Chandler-Brown writes about her personal experience of birth trauma, and why we should be doing more to support mothers going through it.

    This post talks about birth trauma, a very real issue in New Zealand. I hope that this post will give voice to women who have suffered from this or are currently working through their journey and will raise awareness of the topic. Please be aware that this article may be triggering for mothers who have survived traumatic births.

    When I decided I wanted to write this post I did not want it to just be my story. I wanted it to be the collective voices of other mothers who had lived through birth trauma – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) that occurs after childbirth. If a mama reading this is going through something similar, please know this:

    You are not alone.

    Your experience is valid.

    You are so entitled to feel what you’re feeling.

    Before I had my son, I had never been frightened of birth. In fact, I was in awe of it. Being a student midwife, I had been lucky enough to watch the power of mothers in their birth zone: deep within themselves, swaying rhythmically with their contractions. I’d had the privilege of watching elective caesareans. I’d seen the joy on the faces of parents as their baby was lifted above a surgical curtain and they met for the very first time.

    I lived and breathed birth and I could not wait to experience it for myself. I held my birth plan lightly; I knew from my studies that birth rarely goes as planned and I was happy to ride the waves of the journey. I was ready for change and adaptation.

    I was not ready for the loss of power and autonomy, or the physical disconnection from my baby.

    Photo: Jacky Lam / Getty Images
    Photo: Jacky Lam / Getty Images

    I chose a midwife who I had met while on midwifery placement. I saw her in practice – fierce and passionate about protecting her women – and I knew she was the person I wanted to deliver my baby. I often wonder how different my birth story would have been if it had only been her.

    I want to be clear, that this is not another article attacking midwives. I still admire and hold deep respect for our midwifery system in New Zealand. As an autonomous feminist profession founded in partnership with women, I feel that midwives, like the women they care for, still suffer under a misogynistic system.

    It seems there is a deeply ingrained fear of women’s knowledge, whether it be the knowledge of a birthing woman, or a midwife who has completed a gruelling four-year degree and gone on to provide world-class, women-centered midwifery care.

    Due to complications, I ended up with a registrar obstetrician in the room whose fear was palpable. Her distrust of my body and disregard for my rights and consent left me damaged and confused. She performed a vaginal examination without consent and told me to wait when I asked her to stop.

    I lost autonomy, undergoing further invasive procedures done against my will. I was angry for a long time: at the obstetrician for her actions, at myself for allowing it to happen, and at my husband for not stopping it.

    My son was born prematurely and was taken to the Special Care Baby Unit, known as SCBU. I would walk across to SCBU every three hours to have skin-to-skin contact with him and to attempt a breast feed. I would give a top-up and then go back to my room to pump. My body would ache with after pains and I wasn’t even allowed to hold my son for comfort.

    My birth trauma stole away the empowering birth I had longed for. As I struggled to come to terms with what had happened to me, I felt isolated and lost.

    I had my healthy, beautiful baby yet I carried so much anger. I would stand in the shower for months after, going over and over the events in my head.

    I felt violated and stripped of my rights. I felt alone and isolated. I felt guilty for the way I felt.

    It wasn’t until months down the track, when I began researching why I might feel this way, that I stumbled across the term ‘birth trauma’. Birth trauma is a very real issue. It is not spoken about enough, let alone given the validation that it needs and deserves.

    Along with a dawning realisation that my experiences were real and identifiable as birth trauma, I found an online community where my feelings of disempowerment and lack of consent were echoed. When I asked mothers on a private birth trauma Facebook group to share with me their experiences, I got dozens of private messages:

    It’s the loss of control that’s hard aye, all those things that are done to us even when we, or our advocates, are saying no.

    It’s like we suddenly cease to become human beings while we are giving birth.

    I was in a lot of pain, had to be given lots of morphine. I kept asking if my baby was ok, and no one could tell me anything…

    …next minute a male specialist comes into the room… then he asks me to open my legs, which I duly did. The midwife said “oh he’s the obstetrician, he does this part” when I looked a bit confused. I was thinking “gee thanks for letting me know beforehand that a man was doing this part…

    Caring for your baby ‘under the microscope’ of staff and the suffocating NICU ‘rules’ and being aware you’re not making the decisions for your baby as you normally would – when to feed, when to bath etc really undermines your parenting confidence.

    The trauma was not being able to trust the one person you’re meant to.

    New mums are quite literally told that we should “leave our dignity at the hospital door.” We are taught as mothers that at the end of the day all that matters is the result: a healthy baby. But what about the mental health of us as mothers?

    There seems to be a major disregard for the mental safety of new mothers. Perinatal suicide is one of the leading causes of death for pregnant women, yet despite numerous experts and professionals urging the Ministry of Health to launch a government review of the mental health services in New Zealand it’s just not happening. That leaves us with mothers who are struggling to access free, supportive counselling with medical professionals who understand birth trauma and its effects.

    Women have spoken to me about how their GPs have brushed off their request for counselling referrals because they weren’t “depressed enough”. One mother recounted how her counsellor “had never heard of birth trauma”.

    There needs to be a shift in our health system, but we also have a responsibility as a community to surround each other with love and support.

    Some wonderful women have already stepped into this void, like Carla and Jenni Sargent, two New Zealand sisters with backgrounds in midwifery and new mother support groups who founded Voice for Parents in 2015. Carla and Jenni’s experiences had shown the need for an organisation focused on the emotional needs of parents who were struggling to come to terms with a traumatic birth experience.

    Last year Voice for Parents published a survey which shared the stories of parents who had been traumatised by birth. The survey outlined what those mothers believed would have been most helpful to them in aiding their recovery: the informal support of talking and writing about their experiences. Voice for Parents went on to provide a range of services, including a safe online forum for women to share their stories. This online community was so healing for me; it was there that I was able to share my experience and be validated by a community that lifted other women up.

    Dana Chandler-Brown with her children.
    Dana Chandler-Brown with her children.

    I went on to have another birth that was cathartic and healing. Although it wasn’t the home birth I had hoped for, I felt in control the entire time. It does not seem right to me that I considered myself so incredibly lucky to receive a basic human right.

    To help women move past their trauma we need to provide them with a safe community willing to listen without judgement. We need to get back to our village mentality. Our mothers need to be treated as people first and foremost, whose thoughts and feelings matter.

    To mothers who have survived traumatic births I would like to say this: Please know that it often will get better. The start is hard, so hard. But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Accept every single piece of physical help people give you.

    It’s so important to remember that it’s not your fault. You did your best. And if you find yourself not coping, or unable to come to terms with your traumatic birth, for the love of God don’t hide it. You’re not alone.

    Dana Chandler-Brown is a veterinary nurse, writer, and adoring, often exhausted mother to two. She uses writing to help her make sense of the world she’s raising them in.

    This content is entirely funded by Flick, New Zealand’s fairest power deal. In the past year, their customers saved $358 on average, which would buy enough nappies for months… and months. Please support us by switching to them right now.