The real reason women aren’t sharing their maternity leave

As it’s revealed that the Government’s Shared Parental Leave scheme has failed miserably, Isabel Mohan says that it’s the pay gap, more than a maternal urge, that’s to blame

over two years since its inception, last week it was reported that less than 1% of eligible families are taking up Shared Parental Leave.

Unfortunately, I’m not surprised. I was very nearly part of that 1%, but changed my mind at the last minute – for the same multitude of financial and emotional reasons that so many other new parents face. 

I was a freelance journalist when our son, Raphael, was born in June 2015, just a few weeks after the Government launched the scheme to much fanfare. Finally, we were catching up with our ice-cool Scandi friends who’ve been effortlessly sharing parental leave for years.

When Raphael was three months old, I was offered a great job as editor of a new website. I dragged him to a few meetings – him dozing contentedly in a sling that just about disguised my leaking boobs – and felt like I was living the working-mum dream. I arranged to start full-time when he was six months old, while my husband James was proud and excited to be the first dad at his company, an engineering consultancy, to do the shared leave thing.

Fast-forward a few weeks to our first family holiday, and I did a dramatic about-turn. I suddenly realised I was nowhere near ready to leave Raphael every day. It was partly financial – the pressure of being the breadwinner was overwhelming. We had always been fairly equal earners, but James would only be able to claim statutory paternity pay – less than £600 a month – while I worked; a big drop. And it was partly emotional: I was a much more ‘attached’ parent than expected and didn’t want to stop breastfeeding. I also couldn’t bear the thought of spending lunchbreaks pumping in the loos. Plus – perhaps selfishly – I was really enjoying maternity leave.

When I told both James and my new boss – an inspiring single mum – that I wouldn’t be taking the job after all, I felt like I was letting down not only my husband, but the entire sisterhood.

One couple who are hoping to make shared leave work are Lily and David, both 34, from South London. With their second child due imminently, Lily, an occupational psychologist, is going to take just a few months off before David, who works in banking, takes over caring for their toddler and baby. ‘We’re lucky that David’s company will give him six months’ full pay,’ explains Lily. ‘It wouldn’t have been an option otherwise, because he earns a lot more than me. Men just don’t expect to take any big career breaks, whereas most women figure they’ll probably have a maternity leave at some point. So even though his company offers an unusually generous enhanced scheme, David felt really nervous about telling them – he’s only the second man to do it in two years.’

Other couples I know love the idea of shared leave, but the pay gap between men and women again makes it an impossibility. While the Government is ostensibly encouraging equality, the figures just don’t add up. The idea of dropping the main earner’s full-time salary (sadly, men in most relationships) for maternity pay of less than £600 a month is pure fantasy.

Two years on, Raphael is in childcare and I work four days a week as editor of Mush, the social app for mums looking for local friends with kids the same age. People often ask why there isn’t an app like this for dads: the truth is, dads are more than welcome to use Mush, but there just aren’t very many of them taking on the stay-at-home duties. In keeping with those dismal national stats, less than 1% of our hundreds of thousands of users have chosen the ‘dad’ or ‘shared leave trailblazer’ tags for their profiles.

I’m currently pregnant and will be embarking on maternity leave at Christmas. I’d love to bump into David and his fellow trailblazers on the baby scene and find out how they’re making shared leave work. But until more companies are prepared to redress the pay gap, I have a feeling the men blearily singing Incy Wincy Spider on a rainy Tuesday morning will continue to be few and far between.

The idea of dropping the main earner’s full-time salary for less than £ 600 a month is pure fantasy