Of work and parenthood

Our daughter is now three weeks old, and I really can't believe that the time has passed so quickly. In such a very short space of time, not only have our lives and routines gone out of the window, but Seren - our precious little girl - has changed so much. She already seems stronger, longer and more settled, and is fascinated by the light passing through windows or through banisters. She's also started smiling genuine smiles rather than indicating that daddy needs to get ready to change my nappy soon, and seems to be getting interested in her activity mat and other toys.

Everyone who's ever had kids will tell you that it changes your life forever, but a naïve part of you really believes that this is just poppycock, that you'll be more capable than them, able to assert some sort of upper hand over your child. You genuinely think that you'll be able to sit down of an evening, for example, and enjoy your evening meal - baby, after all, is such a small thing; how can she possibly rule the roost? But of course, no sooner has fork touched plate than baby also wants feeding. Oh, and that old adage about letting babies cry until you're ready to attend to them? Nice (if slightly cruel) idea, but totally impractical.

The first couple of weeks, with the benefit of two weeks of paternity leave, was really good. I'd get up at 7.00 or 7.30 and get the house organised, while my wife Michelle and Seren would generally sleep in until around nine when the latter, suddenly cognisant that she was starving would scream into life, the stomach and vocal chords seemingly awake earlier than the eyes, which seemed to stay resolutely closed.

Fast forward to my first day back at work. Few of the variables had changed - Seren still didn't sleep through the night without two or three feeds and nappy changes, we still didn't get to bed until midnight - but I suddenly had to balance the night's disruption with getting up two hours earlier and therefore experiencing two hours' less 'sleep'. And not only that, but with this start, I then actually had to work. Work which is, of course, less strenuous than 24 hour childcare or breastfeeding, I hasten to add before inadvertently offending my own wife and other mothers, but is pretty tough to do on bugger all sleep.

Worse still (from a work perspective) is that having a child really re-focusses your priorities, built up over many child-less years. Work is no longer the most important ruling influence in your life, thus you feel resentful of this all-consuming daily event that cruelly separates you from your newly-expanded family. Work, you realise, is that necessary thing that you need to do to support your loved ones, and you can't help but approach it in a different way.

But work doesn't quite see it that way. There's no concessions simply from having a baby. You are not able to work any less hard, you still have to show 150% commitment and there is no allowance for tiredness or lateness after your poor, defenseless, unknowing baby has been sick all down the back of your suit. You can't afford to coast, no matter how much you want to. And for those people who say you need to separate your work and home lives? Well, tell me how to do that and I'll give it a try, but right now I can't see the appeal.

Aside from the financial means to provide for your loved ones, the grey cloud of work does provide but one silver lining - holidays. I've never been so keen in all my life to book all my holidays in, to know when I can next spend more than just the all-too-brief weekend with my family. And finally, after nearly five years of working in the City, with its compelling financial attractiveness and my intense pride and love for our capital, the hour and a half commute now feels like a further factor separating me from my baby, a further thing to be resentful for. But I'm not about to go jacking in work just yet - my daughter looks like she is going to have expensive tastes.

Despite tieing myself up in great big bloody reef knots about going back to work, as it happened my first day back was fine. The hour-long train journey each way turned out to be a perfect means of catching up on sleep, while when I actually arrived at work all people wanted to do was talk about Seren (my specialist subject), her birth, how Michelle was and how I was coping. So I didn't get much done anyway. But that excitement of rushing out the door at 5.00 to get home has never been so welcome, and that first night coming in to see my wife and baby was one of the nicest evenings of my life.