Before I became a parent, I often heard the same refrain: the love for your children is unlike anything else. “Cradling your baby is an experience like no other!” This was echoed by parents, family, friends, and even strangers in grocery store checkout lines who noticed my baby bump.
Yet, when I first held my daughter, I was taken aback by the overwhelming sense of fear that consumed me. Would I drop her? Was I equipped to raise her properly? Had we even chosen the right name? In that moment, I questioned my ability to nurture another human being.
This fear only intensified my anxiety. Did my feelings of trepidation mean I was failing as a mother? Where was the promised flood of love? Was I somehow broken?
Two weeks later, in the midst of a sleepless night filled with my daughter’s cries, I reached a breaking point. “Please,” I pleaded, “I’m trying my best, just stop crying.” And just like that, she did. The absurdity of the situation made me laugh. Looking down at that little creature who bore a resemblance to both her father and Mikhail Gorbachev, I realized she, too, was just as clueless. In that moment, my fear started to fade.
I recalled this experience when a well-meaning relative told me that these early years with my baby and three-year-old were the “golden days.” “You’ll miss it when it’s gone,” she said, reminiscing about the happiest time of her life.
My days are filled with chaos, meaning, and yes, a lot of mess, but labeling this as the happiest time? I’m skeptical. Even admitting that makes me fear I’m somehow failing. If I’m not ecstatic about scrubbing poop from the carpet, then what does that say about me?
The multitude of parenting books and online guides insist that if you encounter difficulties, you can fix them. Whether your child is biting your arm or resisting potty training, they suggest that you can mend it all with enough patience and perhaps a few products bought online. The underlying message? If you’re not happy, it’s your fault—you must be broken.
I wish we could eliminate the word “happy” from our discussions about parenting, as if that state of perfect bliss is a realistic goal in raising children. Life is messy, challenging, and sometimes things just don’t improve. Our self-help culture promotes the idea that every problem can be solved. But when your child doesn’t grasp that they shouldn’t keep peeing on the floor, despite what the potty-training book claims, good luck with that.
No parent who has ever found themselves sobbing on the floor amid a sea of tears is broken. No mother who looks at her child with sheer terror needs fixing. None of us who’ve wished to escape from the sticky, poop-scented living room is doing it wrong. Instead of more parenting manuals aimed at making us better, I wish we had resources that taught us to embrace our reality, with all its grace, joy, frustrations, anxiety, and fears.
Because I’ve had enough of being told I should be happy.
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Summary
Parenthood is often portrayed as a blissful experience, but for many, it is fraught with challenges and fears. The expectation of constant happiness can lead to feelings of inadequacy among parents. Instead of focusing on achieving an ideal state of joy, it’s essential to recognize and accept the messiness of parenting, embracing all the emotions that come with it.