The Paradox of Parenting

Good morning, outside world.

Kristen here, writing from the inside. Our incarcerator is still asleep, so I have a moment to get this message out to you before he wakes up. When he is awake, he is demanding and relentless. I cling to these few moments I have with you before my endless order-following commences.

Cory and I are 22 months into parenting. We knew it would be hard. Veteran parents are very forthcoming and honest about how challenging raising children, especially young children, can be.

But people. Is anyone talking about how beyond-compare-exhausting and out-of-this-world-soul-sucking parenting is? I’m just going to be real. (That’s kind of my MO, for better or for worse.)

But first, I have to say…I feel like parents have this unspoken rule that before we talk about how challenging it is to be parents, we have to preface it with overflowing positivity about how much we love our children. So I’m going to do the same.

Hear me loud and clear. 
Being a parent is a paradox.

I love my child with every ounce that I am. He is my everything. I can’t imagine how life was even worth living before him. He is the Divine Mystery encapsulated in a toddling, chubby baby body. He is wonder. He is magic. He is my inhale. He is my exhale.

And…(not but)

AND...

He is absolutely exhausting. Being his mother has drained me of everything that I am. I am running on fumes. I don’t know what joy or purpose (outside of him) is anymore. I long for life before him. My body hurts. My bank account hurts. My career hurts. 

You guys. This shit is real. I knew it would be hard. But this hard? THIS?! This, my goodness, is next level hard.

Cory and I are discerning whether or not we want to have a second child. Before becoming parents, I thought I would want at least two children. Now, I’m wondering if I could even do it. 

Do people have more than one child because of societal pressures and expectations? Because of our narcissism and wanting our children to siblings because we had siblings? 

Or are people just coping better than me? Are other mothers just better at this than me? Do other mothers just know something about parenting that I am don’t? Am I just missing something?

Cory and I were lamenting about our exhaustion and depression before bed last night, and he said something that grounded me. Gave me a little hope in this mess. He said, “Deep down inside of me, I think that this is so hard because we are doing it right.” 

I hope he’s right. I hope that this is kicking our ass because we are putting our heart and souls into it. We care so deeply. We love ferociously. We park and chalk and sing and cook and clean and wipe and bathe and dance and giggle and read and fold and snuggle and pretend and library and play with all that we have. 

Because he is magic.
Because he is pure.
Because he is Divine mystery.
Because he is love.

And because we love him so. so. so. much.

My precious 10 minutes of blog writing have passed, and our sweet tyrant is awake.

Just know that I am okay. I am surviving. And, very importantly, I am grateful. I count my blessings every damn day. Cory and I share what we’re grateful for every night at dinner. And we always have genuine gratitude to share with each other, even on the darkest of days.

I don’t believe I’m special or unique in what I’ve said in this post. I think (I hope) I’m just putting down on paper what you have all felt at some point or another in your parenting.  And if not, please send the code to unlocking this puzzle that is the parenting paradox. (Actually, I take that back. If you have this figured out, just shhhh. Don’t say anything. Smile and nod and let me have this tantrum in full-blown ignorant bliss. Thank you very much.)

And on that note, I take a sip of coffee. I thank the earth for caffeine. And I get started with this day.