The Heartbreaking Japanese Tradition Still Used Today That Separates Babies From Their Fathers

I couldn’t believe it when my Japanese wife told me she wanted to leave me before our daughter was born.

“Iain, look,” my wife said.

As soon as I turned around and saw her standing in front of me I knew exactly what it was. That beautiful pink stick in her hand meant only one thing.

“Fuck yeah!” I screamed. A baby brother or sister for our little girl Isa.

We stood together in that kitchen and hugged. Then cried, sobbed, and laughed, all in one.

An orchestra of 1,000 emotions.

What made it so incredible and unbelievable for us was that it had happened so quickly.

Our first daughter, Isa, had taken 14 months of trying. Sperm count checks, fertility checks, reminder apps for optimal jiggy time and position apps for what angle my wife should stick her legs up in the air at the critical moment I “arrived”.

14 months of precise, military planning. And stress.

Our 2nd baby? As best as we both remember, it was our first attempt.

Boom. Jiggy. Baby.

Oh what joy my little swimmers wouldn’t have to live by the ding ding ding of pregnancy planning apps again.

Happy, happy, smile, smile.

However, for me, that joy soon turned to disbelief. Then shock. Then pure, utter sadness.

Why?

Because my wife told me that she was adamant about doing ‘satogaeri shussan’.

里帰り出産.

In Japanese, the first word ‘satogaeri’ means to return back to your hometown, usually where your parents live. The second word ‘shussan’ means giving birth.

So when you put the two together and get ‘satogaeri shussan’, it means to go back to your hometown to give birth to your new child.

‘Satogaeri shussan’ is a custom that dates far back in Japanese history and is quite understandable on the surface — as the mother, you and your new baby get care and support from your parents and your extended family.

Happy days.

And for my wife, especially, it was inevitable she’d be going back home because when you write ‘satogaeri shussan’ out in Japanese kanji, it looks like this:

里帰り出産.

Why did I tell you that?

Because the very first kanji there, “里” is my frikken wife’s family name — Sato.

So satogaeri? It literally means Sato go home! I couldn’t make this shit up. The Gods of language had conspired against me.

No doubt about it, my wife was goin’ home!

Especially considering she hadn’t been home for her first pregnancy.

Our 1st Daughter

When my wife was pregnant with our first daughter, there were a few complications, which meant she had to stay in the city where we lived because it’s much bigger than her tiny island hometown and the facilities and emergency options are much more extensive.

The result?

I was right there outside the hospital ward when my first child was born (no bueno for husband and his camera to get in the way while the doctors and nurses are doing their jobs delivering babies).

I was also there to hold her tiny body when she was still covered in muck, and when the nurse stuck a thermometer up her bum to take her temp. Those little squeals of new life and nails the size of a pen’s nib…

But most importantly, I was there to take my wife and new baby home from the hospital. And to spend every spare second I had watching my gorgeous little girl breathe, burp, fart, poop, and laugh.

And smell her skin. My God, the smell of a new baby. Like a thousand cherry blossom petals wrapped up in a rosy embrace.

Our 2nd Daughter, And The Heartbreak

With ‘satogaeri shussan’? That’s all gone.

For 1–2 weeks before the birth and 2–3 months after, the mother stays at home with her family while the father lives alone at home and continues to work as normal.

I understood why my wife had wanted to do it. We’d had no family support after our first daughter was born because we both live away from our hometowns. And that was hard.

So second time round, my wife was absolute in her determination to go home.

She also took our oldest daughter, who was barely 2 at the time.

Fair enough, I thought. Get the family help you need.

I certainly wasn’t going to stand defiantly in the way of custom.

The angry foreigner in a foreign land imposing his own culture and finger wagging demands. Especially considering my wife comes from a very traditional, conservative area in countryside Kyushu.

Internally, however, I was heartbroken.

Yeah, I was there for the birth of our 2nd daughter. And I got to hold her when she was minutes old and smell that baby smell.

But to walk away from my family and a daughter who was barely a few days old? And rely on Facetime calls and daily video updates?

I wasn’t ready for that.

Harden Up Daddy!

Some guys might be reading this thinking, “fuck me Iain, what are you talking about? A free pass for 3 months without the wife and kids?”

“WTF are you complaining about you sorry little feckless weasel? I wish I had that when my missus was pregnant!”

Sure, I thought the same thing at first.

“Really honey? You’re going to Tanegashima for 3 months? And you’re taking Isa too?

“So I’ll be in the house by myself? From October to January?”

“Oh well. OK. If you must…I’ll soldier on…”

Cue fake tears. Cue fake sobs.

“You fucking beautyyyyyyyy!!” I thought.

And at first, it was great. Couple glasses of wine each night. Overload on chocolate. Binge watch Netflix and surf sessions at sunrise and sunset.

But the novelty soon wore off.

A couple glasses became half a bottle. Half a bottle became a whole bottle. A bottle of wine became a bottle of scotch.

Then I’d sit there watching videos of my baby daughter and rewind them til I was so drunk I could no longer see them.

Then haul myself off to bed. The big, empty king-sized bed I’d once shared with my wife.

A week felt like a month, and a month felt like a year.

I’d go down on weekends and get about 36 hours of cuddle time in before I had to leave again. It was soul destroying.

Closing Thoughts

I got married at 41, had my first girl at 43, and my second at 45. I was ready to be a dad. I wanted to be a dad.

I’d never felt so much love in my heart as when I held my first little girl in the hospital just a few breaths into her life.

This is what a parent’s love feels like, I thought. It’s incomparable.

I felt it again when our second girl was born, but I felt like something had gouged a big hole in my gut when I was home alone on the sofa while my wife and 2 girls were away in another home.

It might be culture. It might be custom. A mother-to-be might consider it a chance to bond with 3 generations of family.

But for the husband left behind?

I’m not sure much thought goes into how he feels.

I certainly know how I feel…

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