Recently, I posed a casual question to a newlywed friend about his plans for children. I expected a straightforward response, but his discomfort was palpable. He squirmed and finally muttered, “I know I should have kids because they’re rewarding.” It was as if the idea had been drilled into him since his wedding day. He looked at me, clearly waiting for some encouragement to fulfill his “parental duty.” Spoiler alert: he’s going to be waiting a while.
As a parent of a 5- and 7-year-old, I’m far too exhausted to convince anyone that parenting is the way to go. If you don’t want kids, don’t have them. Trust me, everyone benefits from that decision—except maybe the therapists who could use a few more clients.
Now, if you’re leaning toward parenthood, it’s crucial to realize that it may not be rewarding in the traditional sense. When I think of “rewarding,” I envision a scenario where hard work leads to a fulfilling outcome, like finishing a project or reaching a goal. Parenting, however, operates on an entirely different level.
Let’s skip the basics on the challenges of having children; we all know about sleep deprivation and sore nipples. What’s less discussed is how quickly the sympathy for new parents vanishes. Society seems to expect you to stop using your kids as an excuse for your woes. Take, for instance, a dad in my building who complains about construction dust and lobby safety concerns at co-op meetings, while referring to his 2-year-old as a newborn. It makes me want to roll my eyes—he clearly missed the memo that once your child turns two, the parental complaints must cease.
You’re expected to have a cute picture of your kid on your desk and share no more than one amusing story a week—preferably one that highlights your child’s adorable nature without delving into the gritty realities of parenting. For instance, no one ever posts a status like: “Today, my son went full-on tyrant—he punched his sister 25 times and threw a tantrum on the subway.”
People rarely acknowledge the pressure of molding a young mind to ensure they grow up with self-esteem. The weight of this responsibility often leaves me feeling like I’m failing at every turn. I see shadows of my insecurities reflected in my kids’ behavior, whether or not it’s justified.
I do my best to follow expert advice. For example, when employing the “1, 2, 3” technique, I resist the urge to scream, “Stop pulling your brother’s pants down in front of that old man!” Instead, I take a deep breath and calmly say, “If you want to keep your Barbie, keep your hands to yourself.” By the time I reach “two,” she understands I mean business and usually moves on.
So, I pat myself on the back for teaching her boundaries and that actions have consequences. But then I go home, pour myself a large glass of wine, and as I drift off to sleep, I start to second-guess myself. Did I just raise a daughter who’ll be easily swayed by her peers?
To complicate matters further, my son seems impervious to the “1, 2, 3” method. I find myself wondering if he’ll grow into a rule-breaker or a future leader. The truth is, I have no idea how it will all pan out. My stepmother parented both her children in the same manner—one ended up in prison, while the other became a successful CFO. Tragically, she lost her life in a car accident, and I often think about how she might have viewed parenting.
What I can say for certain is that parenting has stretched my limits in ways I never imagined. It has deepened my capacity for love, compassion, anger, hope, fear, joy, and empathy. Now, I’m like a bundle of emotional chaos desperate for control.
For instance, shortly after my daughter was born, I experienced severe turbulence on a flight. As the plane jolted, I fastened my seatbelt and began to sob silently, overwhelmed by thoughts of my wife and daughter. There’s just so much at stake now.
Parenting compels me to question whether I’m doing my best, and often, I find the answer is “no.” So, I pick myself up and try again, which ultimately makes me a better person.
And on rare occasions, I glimpse the beauty of it all. This past summer, I watched my son help other kids out of the swings at Coney Island. I also witnessed my daughter advocate for him during a soccer game when he was left out. Those moments brought tears to my eyes (don’t worry, I pretended it was dust).
Some might argue these moments embody the very essence of “rewarding.” But does that mean I was wrong to question the term? I can’t say for sure; the final verdict is still out.
For more insights on parenthood and related topics, check out our post on home insemination. It’s an excellent read for anyone considering their family planning options, especially if you’re looking into at-home options like the at-home insemination kit. Also, for those navigating the complexities of fertility insurance, this resource is invaluable.
Summary:
This reflection on parenting captures the complex emotions and challenges involved. While moments of joy and love exist, the struggle and uncertainty can overshadow the idea of it being rewarding. Ultimately, the experience pushes parents to grow and question their choices, leaving them with a mix of feelings that defy simple categorization.