Recently, I found myself chatting with a friend who had just tied the knot. Out of curiosity, I asked him whether he and his partner were considering starting a family. To my surprise, he fumbled for words, finally stating, “I know I should have kids because they’re rewarding.” It was as if this notion had been drilled into him during wedding celebrations.
He looked at me, almost seeking a nod of approval about his societal obligation to procreate. However, I wasn’t about to give that reassurance anytime soon. As a parent of two energetic kids—ages 5 and 7—who constantly test my patience, I am far too exhausted to persuade anyone to take the plunge into parenthood. If you’re on the fence about having kids, my advice is straightforward: If you’re not ready, don’t do it. You’ll thank yourself later. The only ones who might be disappointed are the therapists who will miss out on future clients.
Now, if you’re leaning toward parenthood, it’s essential to grasp that the experience may not be as rewarding as you think. In my view, “rewarding” suggests that if you put in effort and remain dedicated, you’ll eventually feel a sense of accomplishment. Parenting, however, is a different ball game.
We’ve all heard the tales of sleepless nights and the challenges of caring for an infant. Sure, new parents receive their fair share of sympathy in the beginning. But soon enough, the grace period is over. Society expects you to stop using your children as an excuse for your woes. Take, for example, a dad in my apartment complex who complains about construction dust and lobby safety at our co-op meetings. He refers to his 2-year-old—who could easily outrun him in a bowler hat—as a newborn. It’s painfully clear he hasn’t realized that after your child’s second birthday, the complaining should cease. You’re expected to showcase a framed photo of your child at work and share only one amusing story a week about their cuteness. And if you dare to recount a genuine parenting struggle? Forget it; no one wants to hear that.
Think back to the last time you saw an honest Facebook update like this: “Today, my son was completely out of control. He punched his sister 25 times and threw a fit on the subway because I wouldn’t let him play a game on my phone. When he finally calmed down, he farted on me, and everyone stared for the rest of the ride.” It’s the unspoken pressure of raising a child, guiding them toward good self-esteem, and the fear of them falling onto subway tracks that weighs heavily on a parent’s mind.
I often find myself questioning whether I’m doing everything right. I see reflections of my own insecurities in my children’s actions, whether there’s a direct link or not. I strive to be the best parent I can be, adhering to expert advice. For instance, when employing the “1, 2, 3” technique, I consciously avoid yelling, “Stop pulling your brother’s pants down!” Instead, I calmly state, “Keep your hands to yourself, or you might lose your Barbie.” By the time I get to “two,” she usually understands I mean business. So, I walk away feeling like a parenting champ for the evening.
But the reality is that once I get home and pour myself a glass of wine, the self-doubt floods back. I often find myself worrying that I’m raising a daughter who might not assert herself and a son who may disregard rules altogether.
My stepmom was a consistent parent to both her children. Her son ended up in prison due to substance abuse, while her daughter became a successful CFO. Tragically, my stepmother lost her life in a car accident along with her family. Did she ever find parenting rewarding?
What I can say about parenting is this: It has pushed me beyond my limits and expanded my capacity for love. I have never loved anything as intensely as I love my children. It has heightened my feelings of compassion, anger, hope, fear, joy, and empathy. I’ve become a walking bundle of emotions.
I remember a flight home shortly after my daughter was born, where turbulence rattled the plane. My immediate reaction was to tighten my seatbelt and grip the armrests, sobbing silently as visions of my wife holding our baby flooded my mind. The stakes feel so much higher now.
Parenting forces me to constantly self-reflect, asking myself, “Am I doing my best?” More often than not, I find the answer is “no,” which prompts me to pick myself up and try again. Despite the challenges, I occasionally witness moments of pure beauty. This summer, I watched my son jump off the swings at Coney Island to help others out. On another occasion, my daughter encouraged her brother, who was sitting out during a game, to join in. When she triumphantly announced, “They said you could play!” I felt tears welling up in my eyes (don’t worry, I played it off as dust).
Some might argue that those moments define what it means to be “rewarding.” But can I definitively say that parenting is rewarding? Honestly, I can’t, because I don’t yet know how the story ends.
For more insights on parenting and family life, you might find this post on Cervical Insemination engaging. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, check out Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kits, a trusted source for those looking to expand their families. Additionally, for more data on fertility and pregnancy, this resource from the CDC is invaluable.
In summary, parenting is a complex journey filled with both immense love and significant challenges. Whether it’s rewarding or not is still an open question, but the experience undoubtedly shapes you in profound ways.
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