u/Timely-Coat-1487

Today is not the Father’s Day I had ever imagined.

I looked forward to a future of handmade mugs that leak, macaroni pictures, crayon drawings and little presents that probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone except me.

I looked forward to those things eventually turning into coffees together, bike rides, shared hobbies, talking shit, watching sport and motorsport together, and whatever interests Parker would have found for himself along the way.

I imagined watching my little boy grow up.
I imagined Father’s Day changing as he did.

But instead, today I celebrate Bereaved Father’s Day.
A day to remember the dads who have lost children.

Every dad, every child and every experience of grief is different and unique.
But today we share something none of us ever wanted to have in common.
Today is a day to remember all of those imagined Father’s Days.

A day to remember the things we thought we would get to do.
And most importantly, a day to respect, remember and honour our little lost souls.
For me, today is for my son, Parker James, who passed away on the 15th of August.

Whether you’ve experienced loss yourself or not, I’d love for you to find and experience one small slice of joy in memory of Parker.
It doesn’t have to be anything profound.
Go for a walk.
Enjoy some sunshine.
Have a good coffee.
Take five minutes for yourself.
Read a few pages of a book.
Go for a drive or a bike ride.
Listen to a song you love.
Light a candle.
Sit outside and do absolutely nothing for a while.
Whatever that little bit of happiness looks like for you, find it and enjoy it today.

You don’t need to be sad for Parker.
I’d much rather you be happy for him.

And for the dads going through Bereaved Father’s Day today, please look after yourselves.

Talk to someone if you need to talk.
Be angry if you need to be angry. Cry if you need to cry. Laugh if something makes you laugh.
There isn’t a correct way to do this.
But amongst everything else, try to put a little bit of good back into the world today.

To all;
We’re all here trying to survive together.
Release some of the anger and distrust towards the world.

Help a stranger.
Say hello to someone.
Ask the cashier how their day has been and actually listen to the answer.
Send someone a message you’ve been putting off.
Tell a mate you appreciate them.

If you have kids, hug them tight today.
Tell them you love them.
Tell them you’re proud of them.

Spend some time doing whatever stupid little thing makes them happy.

And if you have children but, for whatever reason, you’re not currently in their lives, maybe today is the day to reach out.
Put the ego, arguments and history aside for a moment.
Send the message.
Tell them you’re thinking about them.
Tell them you love them.

You never know how many opportunities you’re going to get to say it.

And to every dad carrying the memory of a child today, whether you had a lifetime with them, a few years, a few months, a few hours, or never got the chance to hold them at all:

They mattered.

They are remembered.

And so are you.

Happy Bereaved Father’s Day.

Find a little bit of happiness today.

And if you can, have that little moment for my boy, Parker.

Love from,
Matt — Parker’s Dad

I’m Matt and I really have no idea how to post something like this, but after reading comments and posts from some other dads here, this seemed like the right place to have a shot at opening up.

Last Friday the 14th, my firstborn son Parker was delivered via emergency C-section after around 13 hours of attempting a natural labour.

Everything throughout the pregnancy had been incredibly normal and healthy. We went in for a planned induction at 41 weeks, one week past our due date.

The labour itself was beautiful for my wife, but unfortunately it never progressed far enough. Eventually a C-section was recommended, we agreed, and we were taken away to finally meet our boy.
Parker arrived looking perfect and fully formed, but he never cried.

He was immediately put on oxygen while they tried to clear fluid from his lungs. I stood beside him, spoke to him, held his little hand and told him that Dad was there with him.
That’s the last moment I remember feeling like everything might still be okay.

He was taken to NICU and I followed while my wife went to recovery.

What happened over the next few hours is something I’m struggling with a lot. I witnessed everything as the doctors tried desperately to save my son. Two doctors became a room full of what felt like 15 or more people working around his little bassinet.

His condition deteriorated incredibly quickly. He began bleeding internally, they struggled to clear his airways and eventually his heart stopped.

For nearly three hours they tried everything they could. Resuscitation, intubation, frozen plasma, donated blood and everything else they could possibly do to give him a chance.
His heart stopped multiple times.

At one point I had to leave him, walk back to my wife’s recovery room and somehow find the words to tell her that our son was extremely sick and that he might not make it.
Then I rushed back to Parker.
They managed to resuscitate him again, but eventually we reached the point where he’d been without oxygen for too long and there wasn’t anything more they could do for him.
I had to go and get my wife so we could say goodbye to our son.

We got to hold him.
I can still hear the way my wife cried and said **“my boy”** when she held him. I don’t think that sound will ever leave me.

Parker was a beautifully big boy.
41 weeks, 3.5kg and 52cm long. He had a full head of brown hair and somehow looked like a perfect 50/50 mix of his mum and me.
And he was our boy.

We now know that an infection led to sepsis and ultimately multi-organ failure. An autopsy is being performed, but at the moment we still don’t understand how his bacterial load became so high or how a completely normal pregnancy turned into severe sepsis seemingly within minutes.
I’m struggling with what I witnessed. I know there are parts of those hours that are going to stay with me for a very long time.

But I’m also struggling with something I don’t really know how to explain.
I spent the pregnancy becoming a dad.
I had all of this excitement about meeting my son and this entire future in my head. Things I wanted to teach him, things I wanted to show him, stupid dad stuff I couldn’t wait to do.

Then I finally became his dad and only got a few hours with him.

Now I don’t really know what being a dad is supposed to look like for me.

I know I’m Parker’s dad. I always will be. But I don’t get to raise him, and I’m struggling to understand what fatherhood looks like when your child isn’t here.
At the moment I’ve mostly thrown myself into home improvement projects because keeping my hands and brain occupied seems to help. I’m finding it much easier to focus on looking after my wife than looking after myself.

Honestly, I don’t even really know what I want or need for myself yet.

My wife is physically recovering exceptionally well from the C-section, which I’m incredibly grateful for, but mentally this has obviously been incredibly difficult for both of us.
One of the main reasons I’m posting is because I’d really like to hear from other dads who have lost a baby or a young child.

How did you look after your partner while she recovered physically and mentally?

What did you do when you couldn’t concentrate on looking after yourself?

How did you deal with the memories of the hospital and watching people try to save your child?

How did you deal with coming home without them, their things being around the house, and grieving not only your child but the entire future you’d already imagined with them?

And how do you still feel like a dad?

There’s another thing I’ve been thinking about a lot.
I have this enormous amount of love for my little guy that I was ready to give him for the rest of my life, and suddenly I have nowhere for it to go.

I’d really like to find somewhere positive to put some of it.
I’ve wondered about volunteering with kids who don’t have dads around, mentoring, helping families, coaching or getting involved with organisations that support kids. I don’t know what that looks like yet or what’s even available, but I’d love to hear from dads who do anything like that.
I’d also like to find some “dad-tivities” where maybe I can be a positive person in another young person’s life.
For whatever it’s worth, outside of all of this I’m a pretty normal bloke. I’m heavily into sim racing/iRacing, motorsport, most sports, technology and tinkering with things, I’m also quite handy and build small wooden things, furniture etc and live in the northern suburbs of Melbourne.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m hoping to get from posting this.
Maybe I just need to talk to some other dads.
I’d especially love to hear from anyone who has been through losing a full-term baby or a young child.

What helped you survive the first few weeks?
What helped months or years later?
How did you look after your partner without completely forgetting about yourself?

And most of all, how did you figure out what being their dad looked like afterwards?

Because I got such a short time with Parker.
But I have a lifetime’s worth of love for him, and I don’t know where to put it yet.

Thanks🤍

I’m Matt and I really have no idea how to post something like this, but after reading comments and posts from some other dads here, this seemed like the right place to have a shot at opening up.

Last Friday the 14th, my firstborn son Parker was delivered via emergency C-section after around 13 hours of attempting a natural labour.

Everything throughout the pregnancy had been incredibly normal and healthy. We went in for a planned induction at 41 weeks, one week past our due date.

The labour itself was beautiful for my wife, but unfortunately it never progressed far enough. Eventually a C-section was recommended, we agreed, and we were taken away to finally meet our boy.
Parker arrived looking perfect and fully formed, but he never cried.

He was immediately put on oxygen while they tried to clear fluid from his lungs. I stood beside him, spoke to him, held his little hand and told him that Dad was there with him.
That’s the last moment I remember feeling like everything might still be okay.

He was taken to NICU and I followed while my wife went to recovery.

What happened over the next few hours is something I’m struggling with a lot. I witnessed everything as the doctors tried desperately to save my son. Two doctors became a room full of what felt like 15 or more people working around his little bassinet.

His condition deteriorated incredibly quickly. He began bleeding internally, they struggled to clear his airways and eventually his heart stopped.

For nearly three hours they tried everything they could. Resuscitation, intubation, frozen plasma, donated blood and everything else they could possibly do to give him a chance.
His heart stopped multiple times.

At one point I had to leave him, walk back to my wife’s recovery room and somehow find the words to tell her that our son was extremely sick and that he might not make it.
Then I rushed back to Parker.
They managed to resuscitate him again, but eventually we reached the point where he’d been without oxygen for too long and there wasn’t anything more they could do for him.
I had to go and get my wife so we could say goodbye to our son.

We got to hold him.
I can still hear the way my wife cried and said **“my boy”** when she held him. I don’t think that sound will ever leave me.

Parker was a beautifully big boy.
41 weeks, 3.5kg and 52cm long. He had a full head of brown hair and somehow looked like a perfect 50/50 mix of his mum and me.
And he was our boy.

We now know that an infection led to sepsis and ultimately multi-organ failure. An autopsy is being performed, but at the moment we still don’t understand how his bacterial load became so high or how a completely normal pregnancy turned into severe sepsis seemingly within minutes.
I’m struggling with what I witnessed. I know there are parts of those hours that are going to stay with me for a very long time.

But I’m also struggling with something I don’t really know how to explain.
I spent the pregnancy becoming a dad.
I had all of this excitement about meeting my son and this entire future in my head. Things I wanted to teach him, things I wanted to show him, stupid dad stuff I couldn’t wait to do.

Then I finally became his dad and only got a few hours with him.

Now I don’t really know what being a dad is supposed to look like for me.

I know I’m Parker’s dad. I always will be. But I don’t get to raise him, and I’m struggling to understand what fatherhood looks like when your child isn’t here.
At the moment I’ve mostly thrown myself into home improvement projects because keeping my hands and brain occupied seems to help. I’m finding it much easier to focus on looking after my wife than looking after myself.

Honestly, I don’t even really know what I want or need for myself yet.

My wife is physically recovering exceptionally well from the C-section, which I’m incredibly grateful for, but mentally this has obviously been incredibly difficult for both of us.
One of the main reasons I’m posting is because I’d really like to hear from other dads who have lost a baby or a young child.

How did you look after your partner while she recovered physically and mentally?

What did you do when you couldn’t concentrate on looking after yourself?

How did you deal with the memories of the hospital and watching people try to save your child?

How did you deal with coming home without them, their things being around the house, and grieving not only your child but the entire future you’d already imagined with them?

And how do you still feel like a dad?

There’s another thing I’ve been thinking about a lot.
I have this enormous amount of love for my little guy that I was ready to give him for the rest of my life, and suddenly I have nowhere for it to go.

I’d really like to find somewhere positive to put some of it.
I’ve wondered about volunteering with kids who don’t have dads around, mentoring, helping families, coaching or getting involved with organisations that support kids. I don’t know what that looks like yet or what’s even available, but I’d love to hear from dads who do anything like that.
I’d also like to find some “dad-tivities” where maybe I can be a positive person in another young person’s life.
For whatever it’s worth, outside of all of this I’m a pretty normal bloke. I’m heavily into sim racing/iRacing, motorsport, most sports, technology and tinkering with things, I’m also quite handy and build small wooden things, furniture etc and live in the northern suburbs of Melbourne.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m hoping to get from posting this.
Maybe I just need to talk to some other dads.
I’d especially love to hear from anyone who has been through losing a full-term baby or a young child.

What helped you survive the first few weeks?
What helped months or years later?
How did you look after your partner without completely forgetting about yourself?

And most of all, how did you figure out what being their dad looked like afterwards?

Because I got such a short time with Parker.
But I have a lifetime’s worth of love for him, and I don’t know where to put it yet.

Thanks🤍