Recently, I chatted with a friend who had just tied the knot, casually inquiring about his plans for children. I expected a straightforward answer, so I was surprised when he hesitated, finally mumbling something about the “rewarding” nature of parenting—as if he had absorbed this mantra during his wedding festivities. He glanced at me, clearly anticipating a nudge to embrace his parental responsibilities.
Unfortunately for him, that encouragement will take time. As a parent of two young children, aged 5 and 7, I find myself far too exhausted to persuade anyone about the joys of parenthood. If you’re hesitant about having kids, I say don’t. It’s probably better for everyone involved—except perhaps the therapists who might lose some clients.
If you do aspire to be a parent, it’s crucial to recognize that the experience may not necessarily be rewarding. At least, not in the way we often define reward. To me, “rewarding” suggests that hard work and perseverance should eventually lead to a sense of achievement. However, parenting doesn’t seem to fit into that mold.
No need to recount how challenging it is to have children—anyone can attest to the fatigue and discomfort that accompany it. New parents certainly receive sympathy, but the moment that baby turns two, the world seems to expect you to stop complaining. Take the dad in my building, who during co-op meetings, gripes about construction dust while referring to his energetic two-year-old as a newborn. It’s as if he missed the memo: once your child turns two, public complaints are frowned upon. You’re expected to display a framed photo of your child at work and share one amusing anecdote a week, ideally one that’s lighthearted and self-deprecating. Any tale that hints at the difficulties of parenting is best avoided.
Consider this: how often do you see a social media post like this? “Today my son was a total jerk. He punched his sister 25 times and threw a tantrum on the subway when I wouldn’t let him play games on my phone. Then he farted on me, and everyone stared as I smelled.” It’s rare to find parents openly discussing the pressure of nurturing a child into a confident person without resorting to thoughts of harming others during a particularly trying moment.
The responsibility of shaping a young mind often leaves me feeling inadequate. I see my own insecurities reflected in my children’s actions, regardless of whether there’s a direct connection. I strive to be the best parent I can be, often following expert advice. For instance, when using the “1, 2, 3” method, I try to keep my cool, saying, “If you want to keep your toy, you must respect your brother’s space.” I count to three, and by the second count, my daughter gets the message and changes her behavior.
In that moment, I might feel I’ve won at parenting, teaching her boundaries and consequences. But the reality is, once I get home, I find myself worrying whether I’m raising a daughter who lacks assertiveness. My son, on the other hand, seems immune to the “1, 2, 3” technique, leading me to ponder whether he’ll grow up to be a wild spirit or a future leader.
The truth is, I can’t predict how it will all turn out. My stepmother raised two children under similar circumstances, yet her son ended up in prison while her daughter became a successful executive. Tragically, she lost her life in an accident, leaving me to wonder if she found parenting fulfilling.
What I can say about the experience of being a parent is that it has stretched me beyond my limits. My ability to love has deepened; I’ve never cared for anything as much as I do for my kids. This journey has heightened my compassion, frustration, hope, fear, joy, and empathy. I often feel like a walking bundle of emotions, just beneath the surface.
After my daughter was born, I was on a turbulent flight when I realized how much I had to lose. I clutched my seat, tears streaming down my face at the thought of my wife holding our daughter’s hand.
Parenting has compelled me to constantly evaluate my efforts and ask myself if I’m doing my best. More often than not, the answer is “no,” but I dust myself off and try again, ultimately growing as a person.
And occasionally, I witness moments of pure beauty. This past summer, I watched my son help other children at Coney Island. One day, I saw my daughter stand up for her brother on the soccer field, ensuring he could join in the game. When she exclaimed, “They said you could play!” and saw his joy, I couldn’t help but tear up. (Don’t worry, I feigned allergies.)
Some might argue that these moments capture the essence of what it means to be “rewarding.” Perhaps they do. But does that mean I’m wrong about parenting’s nature? I can’t say for certain, as the final outcome remains a mystery.
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In summary, parenting is a complex journey filled with highs and lows, uncertainty, and moments of joy that defy easy categorization.