When my wife and I were ready to start a family in 2018, I wasn't too worried about parental leave. I hadn't exactly pored over the employee handbook when I'd started at a consulting company three years before, but it seemed that the (primarily female) staff would take short-term disability for six weeks as a form of maternity leave. That was what my wife was offered through her job at a nonprofit, as well.
I also assumed that my workplace was pretty flexible: When a colleague in my group had her second child, I'd witnessed her taking much longer than six weeks. Clearly, she'd worked something out with her managers, and I thought I'd likely do the same if I too needed more than six weeks.
When my wife became pregnant, I told my managers about four months before her due date. I wanted to give plenty of notice because my job often requires travel, and I wanted to make sure we didn't schedule any work trips starting in late August in case the baby arrived early. My direct boss, who always seemed really progressive and empathetic, told me she would chat with HR and her own managers in our New York office, as we worked in a smaller satellite office in Philadelphia. She promised to let me know how leave could work as soon as possible.
She came back a few days later and shared, in this tone that suggested she was being really groovy and gracious, that I could "take all the time I needed," and that she could promise my job when I came back. It took me a moment to realize what was happening. There was no mention of compensation; I believe there was a reference to using up my vacation and sick days, of which I had maybe a week and a half. But other than that, it was left totally vague — and I realized she was saying I wouldn't be paid.
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At first, I accepted the fact I'd get no paid parental leave — but my wife encouraged me to push back
In the moment, I felt surprised and angry, but the feeling oddly dissipated within a few hours. I could see where my boss was coming from. This was the policy (or lack thereof). I live in Pennsylvania, where there's no state law requiring paid parental leave, and there isn't a federal one either. So I was annoyed, but I presented it to my wife Meredith that night as, "I guess my boss's hands are tied. What are you gonna do?"
Meredith was not interested in giving up that easily. "Well, that's not acceptable," she said. "You need to push back on this." And this is an area where she and I are really different. I will get mad about something and complain, but ultimately I don't want to rock the boat. But she is a fighter, and she stands up for what is right; it's something I love about her.
She pointed out how unfair and untenable this situation was — we don't have family nearby, and we didn't know what kind of birth she might have or what medical situation she or the baby might be in. As first-time parents, we didn't know what we were getting into, but we knew enough to realize it wasn't something she should go through alone.
Plus, I wanted the time to bond with my baby, too.
So I started pulling an argument together. Our company's headquarters was in New York, a state that was phasing in paid parental leave, and our other satellite office was in Massachusetts, which was in the process enacting its own similar policy. The HR policy partially paid mothers for their leave, so I demonstrated that as the only younger man at the entire company, I was also the only employee who couldn't receive this particular benefit when I had a family. (I will pause here to appreciate the irony that, for once, being a straight man meant I was at a demonstrable disadvantage!)
My boss was surprisingly receptive to the idea
I asked for another meeting with my boss to discuss my leave, and to her great credit, I only got about 30 seconds into my spiel before she cut me off and said, "You have a right to be mad. This has been bothering me, too." She asked for some time to go back to HR and the higher-ups to discuss it.
When she came back, the next offer from the company was to match the parental leave benefit I would get if I were living and working in New York: 10 weeks at 55% pay. The difference is, of course, that in New York, funding comes from residents' payroll taxes. We're a private company, so I'm still not sure how they decided to fund it — if it came out of the Philadelphia office's budget or the company's cash reserves or just moving some budget around or what — but my boss said, "Let's think of this as a bonus." And indeed, I didn't get my bonus that year.
I was so happy and grateful, because this leave was even greater than I'd hoped for, and I hadn't needed to fight too hard. My wife and I handled our first baby's arrival in shifts; we were both home for the first 10 days or so, then she was alone on leave for about seven weeks (taking a mix of paid and partial pay). Then I was alone on leave with the baby for about seven weeks.
My company never enacted a formal policy, so I had to ask for parental leave again when we had our second child
When we got pregnant with our son two and a half years later, though, the company had still not put any formal policy on the books about paternity leave. When I went to my boss to share the news, I asked if we could repeat the same benefit and process. To her great credit, she shared that New York's legislation had by then phased up, and the company would match it: They offered 12 weeks at 67% pay, which was essentially double what my wife had.
To this day, I'm torn about the whole situation. My boss is a decent person and I work for a nice company, and I want to give them credit for that. They didn't have to give me leave. But at the same time, I had to push for this, and I know the policy isn't in writing.
Since we started having kids, only one other man has joined the company, and while I didn't and don't know anything about his family, I clued him in on the benefit I'd received in case it ever factored into his planning. It felt conspiratorial, in some way, or verboten — like talking about salaries.
Sometimes I feel guilty for taking leave — but I don't know how we would have made it work otherwise
Meredith and I are also debating having a third child, and it's really messed up: I wonder if my boss would be as generous a third time? Would it be asking too much? Was she assuming we'd stop at two? What if we wanted six? Obviously, these decisions should be none of her business, and shouldn't factor in our planning either. But I can't help but feel guilty.
Now that we've been through two newborn babies, I can't imagine how we would have made it work otherwise. I know, obviously, that people do — it sucks, but we would have figured it out, or we would've drained more of our savings for child care, or I just wouldn't have been there for my babies or my wife, etc., etc., etc. But my goodness, am I grateful we didn't have to live like that.
I also feel guilty that I haven't done enough to fight for paid parental leave in Pennsylvania. When you're a parent, you're always on to the next phase. Did I write to my Congressperson when this was on my mind? Yes. Have I followed up on it since? Absolutely not. Do I think it's less important? No!
Partners need to fight for better family leave policies
I hope that other parents-to-be — especially those like me, who are generally reluctant to rock the boat — push their employers a bit on this issue. There's an inertia to follow the status quo, even among well-intentioned managers like mine. But you might be the small nudge that gets your company to do the right thing, for you and for your colleagues into the future.
*Not his real name
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