THE JOURNAL

France, 2001. Photograph ©Harry Gruyaert/Magnum Photos
Father’s Day has been an annual fixture in the calendar since 1910. But in the intervening years, the meaning behind this holiday is shifting. We all understand the Hallmark card version of our Old Man – the kind of guy who likes real ale, fishing expeditions and gardening on his one day off from being dad. However, just as parenting is evolving, so is the definition of who a dad is and what their roles and responsibilities must be. Last year, MR PORTER asked new dad Mr Alex Godfrey to write about his changing perspective as he entered fatherhood for the first time. This year, ahead of Father’s Day for many of us, we spoke to three new dads, with vastly different experiences, to get their perspectives, in their own words, on parenting in 2022.
“Day-in, day-out, parenthood is the biggest shock, no matter how you identify”
Freddy is a trans man and solo dad to two children
“When people hear about a transgender man becoming a dad, their whole focus immediately lands on one question: ‘How?’ I know this because I am one of these men. I came out as trans in my mid-twenties. I paused my medical transition in 2016, to start a family by becoming pregnant and a solo dad by choice. My first was born, bonny and blithe, in 2018 and we welcomed a sibling in early 2022. In between pregnancies, I was able to restart testosterone therapy.
“I have always wanted to be a parent. For as long as I can remember, I pictured my grown-up future full of muddy children swinging from trees in a garden that would be ours. Coming out as trans at university felt like progress, but it also complicated things. When I started attending an NHS gender identity clinic, I was told that testosterone makes trans men sterile. It felt like doctors were cutting me a very binary deal: I could become a ‘real man’ if I gave up on the idea of children.
“A couple of years into medical transition, I chanced upon a YouTube vlog by a pregnant trans man in the US. After a year of soul searching, I paused medical transition and began my journey to pregnancy. It was a gruelling experience; the reappearance of gender dysphoria tested my resilience. Thankfully, birth itself went to plan. Throughout, my trans male identity – my sense of self – remained fixed.
“On the other side, with a tiny baby in my arms reflecting my eyes and meagre hairline back at me, I cried happy tears. ‘Mission accomplished,’ I thought, like the basic guy I suspect I am. ‘Now we can get on with being a family.’ Little did I know that adjusting to day-in, day-out parenthood is the biggest shock of them all, no matter how you identify or what parenting role you play.
“Parenthood is everything I wanted. I love it even more than I hoped I would or knew I could. Besides the gym, which was where I first learned to love and listen to my body, there’s nothing I miss from life before. I love my kids’ company, learning about who they are and making them laugh. They push me to my limit on an almost daily basis but when I zoom out, I see this as a process of learning and growing that I’m privileged to be part of.”
“Hair styling was the first thing that sprang to mind, because that’s something a mum does, right?”
Sam is a solo parent to his daughter, Molly, since his wife died in 2020
“There are things about Molly not having her mummy that I simply can’t change. But after my wife Lauren died in August 2020, I wanted to do anything that I could to reduce the practical impact on my daughter. Hair styling was the first thing that sprang to mind, because that’s something a mum does, right? Before Lauren died, I could do a rubbish ponytail at best. I’ve been learning how to do Molly’s hair from YouTube videos. We’ve mastered buns, bunches and plaits. I hoped I could stop her feeling different if she went to school with a bun or a plait like the other girls.
“Before, I saw myself in the traditional mould of dad. I’d always really valued my career and Lauren enjoyed being a stay-at-home mum. So, we were primed for that. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer in summer 2017, I thought I could deal with the parenting. I underestimated how challenging it is to be solely responsible for a small person.
“So much has changed since. Solo parenting is a tough gig, especially when you’re battling grief, too. You feel for yourself and your child’s loss. The biggest pressure has been decision making – anything from filling out Molly’s primary school application to choosing her new bed. Every decision feels meteoric. I think, ‘What if I get it wrong?’ or ‘What if she doesn’t like it?’ and ‘Would her mum have done it like this?’ There’s no back up.
“The pressure of being Dad and Mum is intense. But without Molly, I’m not sure how I’d have survived losing my beloved wife and the person stitched into the fabric of my every day. Lauren did an amazing job in preparing Molly for what was to come; her strength and resilience has shone through in our daughter. And I have found ways to cope, using my blog to connect with others, sharing my feelings with my new partner Jess, family and friends.
“Previously, I was always the working parent, who would then be involved in Molly’s routine – nighttime feeding, nappy changing – as much as possible. Now I build work around Molly. I started my own marketing consultancy to give me flexibility; I can pick Molly up from school, her dance and gymnastics classes, I can attend school events. This is my proudest achievement.
“Molly tells me she loves me every day. That said, she pulls me up for being inconsistent or grumpy; I’m grateful that she feels comfortable enough to tell me these things. For my birthday, she drew me as a superhero on a card. It reminded me of a meme about trying to see yourself through the eyes of your children. You’d see yourself differently.”
Sam blogs at: stillmakinglemonade.co.uk
“I suddenly was responsible for had these living, breathing, little people”
Stu and his husband are adoptive parents to a daughter and two sons
“The early days of being a family were magical. After 12 years together with only the dogs, my husband and I suddenly had these two living, breathing beings in our house, and we were responsible for them. The weirdest thing was how normal it felt. On their first night, my daughter and son went to bed, as good as gold; my husband and I sat on the sofa and looked at each other going, ‘Oh my word’.
“The adoption process can be long and have many challenges, but for us, it was quite speedy. It took a year, to the day, from our first interview to when our children moved home. We adopted our daughter, then aged two, and our son, then six months, in summer 2018. I had always dreamed of becoming a parent. I never thought that it wouldn’t be a reality for me.
“Then 18 months later, we got a call telling us that another brother had been born and that he was in care. Our lives changed again in that moment. There was no decision to be made. He was part of our family the moment we knew he existed, and we worked quickly – it meant going through the whole adoption process again – but we got him home for his first Christmas.
“I struggled after that. I was going through a seismic change in my career and then Covid hit. My mental health was not in a good place, and I sought help from my doctor. I’ve since been on treatment for anxiety and stress, and I feel a better parent. It was important that I was well to look after these little people that depend on me.
“My husband is ‘Dad’ and I am ‘Daddy’. They’ve just started realising what we are called and have a great time winding us up. I hope my kids see me as fun and not just nagging Daddy, but sadly I think it’s the latter. I’ve become the rule setter. Being a queer parent allows my husband and I to not follow any set ‘traditional’ rules. There is no standard mother or father. We are parents, together.
“I see myself as a parent, rather than a father or dad. I think the terms mother and father are outdated in the stereotypes they enforce. I co-host a podcast on queer parenting. I’ve loved getting to understand the many ways our community can have children and the challenges, stories and love involved. But universal parenting challenges outweigh anything that either being an adoptive or LGBTQ+ parent can throw at you.
“I’m just trying to enjoy each day. My son turned three this week and I was so emotional. I thought, where is my little two-year-old going? Many more years of love and fun together – that’s what I’m most looking forward too.”
Stu co-hosts the podcast Some Families with Ms Lotte Jeffs. Their queer parenting book From Gay To Ze is out next year
