In many ways, becoming a parent is a fantastic experience. I might not have a long list of examples to share, but I do enjoy chatting with the attractive moms at the park, and I’m pretty sure my son’s obsession with dogs will lead to us getting one soon since my partner can’t seem to say “no” to him. Those are some definite perks! Plus, having kids reshapes your outlook on life, helps you grow as a person, and shifts your priorities—zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Those Z’s are purely figurative, by the way, because the flip side of “I’ve never been happier!” is that children also rob you of sleep, drain your bank account, upend your lifestyle, consume your free time, and, as I’m learning, elevate your blood pressure.
Never in my life have I felt more anxious than during my two-plus years of fatherhood. Sure, I’ve experienced incredible highs watching my son grow and learn, but I’ve also seen my hair turn gray overnight, wrinkles multiply on my face, and felt myself transform into a bundle of stress.
There’s so much to worry about when you become a parent—concerns that extend far beyond the typical adult worries about jobs, finances, and health. Suddenly, you find yourself preoccupied with issues like SIDS, suffocation, dietary sodium, screen time limits, and bullies. You start to question if that strange toy is a suitable role model, fret over geopolitical tensions, and consider the dangers of concussions from sports.
The anxiety kicks in from day one. Is that normal? What about this? Oh my gosh, what’s that?! Oh right, just his penis.
You become so wired that even during good moments, you’re still on high alert. When we first began sleep training, I was a nervous wreck just trying to survive the night without a meltdown. And once he got the hang of it, I would panic if he didn’t wake up crying. Why is it so quiet? Is he okay? Is he breathing? Oh, right—his penis.
Eventually, you learn to embrace the silence and trust the process. After all, if cave babies could thrive in a world filled with dinosaurs (I’m no scientist), I think today’s children can manage without a video monitor, right?
Then comes the toddler phase—a whirlwind of energy and danger. Watching a toddler for just two hours is enough to make your heart race. Parenting a toddler is less about what you’re doing to ensure their safety and more about what they’re recklessly attempting to do.
You turn your back for a second, and suddenly they’re scaling the couch or moving furniture to reach the sink. At mealtime, they might choke just to get your undivided attention, making your heart nearly stop. And outside? They run like wild animals, always on the verge of darting into traffic or bumping into something dangerous.
They’re pushing boundaries and testing your limits, and it’s a wild ride that inevitably leads to someone needing medical attention. It can be incredibly frustrating, especially since parenthood makes you feel older. The silly, reckless things you did as a kid—those exciting, fun adventures—now seem foolish and dangerous when your child tries them. Suddenly, you’re the overprotective parent you swore you’d never become.
What’s truly disheartening about this constant state of anxiety is knowing that it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t matter how relaxed you are; once you have kids, your mind is perpetually occupied with their safety and well-being, regardless of their age—whether they’re 3 months, 3 years, or even 30 years old.
I finally understand why my parents still wait up for me whenever I visit home.
For more insights into parenting and home insemination topics, you might want to check out this other blog post. If you’re curious about home insemination kits, Cryobaby is an authority on the subject. Additionally, American Pregnancy offers excellent resources for pregnancy and donor insemination.
In summary, parenting is a thrilling yet anxiety-inducing journey. While there are plenty of joyful moments, the stress and worry that come with raising children can feel overwhelming. Understanding this balance is essential for navigating the challenges of parenthood.
