While attending a one-year-old’s birthday celebration with college friends, one of them innocently asked, “How are you doing?”
“It’s really hard,” I responded, surprised by the tremor in my voice and the tears threatening to spill over. “I just can’t seem to make my baby happy.”
He raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his expression. “It’s not your job to make him happy,” he replied.
Internally, I scoffed at my childless friend. What did he know about parenting? How could I not feel accountable for my four-month-old’s joy? After years of longing to be a mother and undergoing numerous fertility treatments, it felt natural to assume that my happiness was tied to my child’s. Popular parenting books like The Happiest Baby on the Block or Brain Rules for Baby only fueled this belief, along with the pervasive American cultural fixation on happiness.
Jennifer Senior’s 2014 work, All Joy and No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenting, notes that many parents today grapple with their roles. With schools, doctors, and agricultural industries taking over traditional parental responsibilities, I found myself questioning my purpose as a new mom. My initial instinct was to pursue my son’s happiness, especially given his colicky nature.
Described by many as challenging and spirited, my son was not the easiest baby. Despite the belief that colic would subside after three months, he continued to cry daily for no discernible reason until he reached 15 months. He loathed being placed in the car seat, yet despised being taken out; he resisted diaper changes and face washes but was also cranky while being held. While he occasionally smiled and laughed, overall, he didn’t appear particularly happy, and I felt miserable alongside him.
At eight months, I had my first inkling that my childless friend might be onto something. My son underwent a procedure to open his blocked tear ducts, which, while not terribly painful, was frightening for him. I wasn’t allowed in the room, and the moment he clung to me after the procedure, I felt the weight of my inability to shield him from distress. My mother’s inquiry about how I planned to prevent his lifelong trauma only intensified my guilt. It was clear—I wasn’t succeeding in making him happy.
During a mothers’ group I attended, I unloaded my feelings of guilt and sadness about the procedure. The therapist gently corrected my perspective: “A parent’s job isn’t to shield your child from negative experiences. It’s to guide them through those challenges so they can learn to navigate them independently.” This revelation shifted my focus. I realized that my goal shouldn’t be merely to eliminate my son’s tears but to cultivate resilience within him, a concept increasingly recognized in psychological and parenting discussions.
This new approach transformed my parenting style and emotional health. Teaching my son resilience helped me navigate his transition to toddlerhood, reinforcing the idea that life includes discomfort, such as diaper changes or doctor visits. I also learned to prioritize my own needs. While my son desired my constant attention, I established boundaries, allowing myself brief breaks, even enrolling him in part-time daycare. This decision not only offered me respite but also helped him manage separation anxiety, allowing me to pursue my passion for environmental communications. With two days each week to focus on my writing, I felt rejuvenated and more patient, ultimately improving my relationship with my son.
Over time, I began to feel like a complete individual again, realizing that I was successfully imparting critical lessons of resilience to my son. I found happiness, even if he wasn’t always the “Happiest Toddler on the Block.”
One morning, while driving home from the store, my son asked, “Mommy, Daddy was a boy and now he a man?”
“Yes, honey,” I replied.
“And I a boy now and then I be a man?” he continued.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Ahhh, I don’t want to be a man,” he lamented. “I want to be a boy forever!”
“Why do you want to be a little boy forever?” I inquired.
“Because I love it,” he said.
To my surprise, my once-fussy little boy was content after all, likely because I had finally found my own sense of happiness.
For further insights on parenting, you can explore resources like this detailed guide on artificial insemination. If you’re interested in self-insemination, check out this informative post about implantation bleeding. For those looking for at-home insemination options, consider this comprehensive kit.
In summary, relinquishing the notion that my child’s happiness was solely my responsibility allowed me to discover my own joy as a parent. Focusing on resilience instead of constant contentment transformed both my parenting approach and my overall well-being.