By Laura Johnstone | The Good, The Bad, and Your Parenting Journey
Father’s Day is meant to be a time of smiles, breakfasts in bed, and handmade cards covered in glitter. But for many families—especially those who’ve had a baby in special care—it’s a bittersweet reminder of everything they’ve been through.
Two years ago, on Ryan’s very first Father’s Day, our daughter Amelia was still in the Special Care Baby Unit. We walked into the unit that morning not knowing what to expect, and there it was: a card that the amazing neonatal staff had made for him. Inside it was Amelia’s first printed photo, with the words Happy Father’s Day.
It meant the world. But it also broke us a little.
Because not having your baby home on milestone days like Father’s Day is heartbreaking. It’s heart-wrenching. That ache of walking out of a hospital with empty arms is something only parents in similar situations can truly understand.
We were lucky—truly. Amelia “only” spent five weeks in special care. But we’d been prepared for the possibility that she might arrive at 23 weeks. Things could have been very different. And that thought has never left us.
So this post is for every dad who is doing Father’s Day differently today.
To the dads sitting beside a hospital cot, watching machines beep and wires twitch.
To the dads scrolling through photos of their babies on their phone because they can’t hold them just yet.
To the dads grieving the loss of a child they never got to bring home.
To the stepdads, godfathers, adoptive fathers, foster fathers, and the ones who never got to meet their little one.
To the dads who are no longer with us, but who are remembered in every smile, every story, and every whispered bedtime “I love you.”
You are all seen. You are all valued. You are all fathers in every beautiful, difficult, loving way.
This journey—especially when touched by prematurity, loss, or hospital stays—is not one anyone would choose. But it’s one that shapes you. And today, we honour that strength, that resilience, and that quiet love that keeps you going.
To Ryan—thank you for being the kind of dad Amelia will always be proud of. And to every other dad reading this today: whether your arms are full or aching, know that you matter, you are loved, and you’re doing an incredible job.
Call to Action
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Let’s keep making sure no parent feels alone.
References:
Bliss Charity UK. (2024). Support for Fathers in Neonatal Care. Sands UK. (2023). Baby Loss Support and Awareness. NHS. (2022). Neonatal Services and Special Care Units Explained.
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