That one (not so fun) word to describe parenting
Unfair.
This word passed through my mind as I was lying on the floor next to Caden’s crib at 4am. Thirty minutes ago, I had tried to get up and leave, but my ankle cracked and woke him up, and he started crying again. So I resigned to my fate of lying there for the rest of the night.
Sick babies are extra fussy and whiny, which makes bedtime extra challenging as it can escalate to tantrums. That night, after Caden fell asleep and my wife and I went to bed, he woke me up again around 2 am. Being the hero husband that I am, I told my wife she could stay in bed as I went to calm the baby. We wrestled for about an hour as he hit me and screamed. He finally fell asleep, and that’s how I ended up held hostage.
Parenting is Unfair
During this, my wife and I were sick too. Sadly, toddlers don’t care that you’re running a 102 fever, and they still depend on you to change their diaper, feed them, entertain them, and prevent them from getting hurt. Resting during sick days becomes a privilege once you’re a parent.
Something that very few parents will admit is how often the words “shut up” sit on the tip of their tongues in moments of exhaustion. Every reasonable parent knows that saying it won’t help; it only escalates the moment. Caden wouldn’t understand the words anyway—he’d just feel my frustration and react to that. But when it’s 3 am, I’m sick, and he’s screaming and hitting me, that impulse flares up all the same. I’ve let a version of it slip out before—not the exact phrase, but the same raw frustration—and I regret it the second it happens.
“Unfair” describes how I’ve felt throughout most of my *limited* parenting journey, and what I believe many other newer parents probably feel as well. Your children change your life forever. Flexibility goes away, and you no longer have the same amount of time you once had. Your bank account starts to drain, and children’s songs start replacing your Spotify playlist. You might have thought your spouse was messy, but nothing compares to what a child can do.
Parenting Gets Better, Even if Not More Fair
If it wasn’t clear, I didn’t exactly enjoy my first year as a dad. It was hard adjusting to the new norm and giving up my time. My board games sat on my shelf collecting dust and unplayed, I began gaining weight, and I’m sure if my bed could talk, it would tell me it missed me. I felt stuck, and when I looked into the future, it felt like I’d be stuck for a long time.
Something that all seasoned parents tell me was that it would get better. I believed them, but it also didn’t exactly help. However, as of writing this, I’ve been a dad for 2 years now, and it turns out, they were right.
As my baby grew, things began to unlock. I first noticed it when I no longer had to support his neck while holding him, and suddenly I had access to one of my hands.
My newborn could eventually start seeing (they are born almost blind). He began to look me in the eye and smile, and his personality started to come through. And when he started laughing, nothing changed, but in a weird way, everything changed. Eventually, he started rolling, crawling, standing, and then walking. He’s also learned to show love by sharing his snacks with me. The grapes are warm from his holding them so long. And a little salty…
And when he started laughing, nothing changed, but also, everything changed.
He started playing peek-a-boo between my legs and finds the littlest things hilarious. When I’m trying to cook, he’s pulling on my shorts trying to get me to play with him. When I drop him off at daycare, he’s crying and shouting “BABA”; when I pick him up from daycare, he’s smiling and shouting “BABA.”
Unfair, Sacrifice, and Beauty
I realized the feeling that parenting is “unfair” is the reason parenting is special. Becoming a dad had a way of exposing a selfishness within me I didn’t know was there. It was the first time I had to express unconditional love and to this intense degree.
Unconditional love by nature is unfair, but that’s what makes it beautiful. It demands a sacrifice on our part, where we act without expecting anything in return. It’s unnatural to the point of being supernatural.
If I’m honest with myself, left to my own devices, I would not be able to muster the love needed. And that’s kind of the point. Parenting points to something greater, something outside of us, and something that was put into us.
Parenting points to something greater, something outside of us, and something that was put into us.
The Gospel Is Unfair
As a Christian, I can’t help but see the parallels between parenting and my faith. There’s a reason why Christians call God “Abba, Father.” In many ways, I see parenting as a reflection of the gospel. People ask whether or not God is fair, and my answer is that He’s not. If He were fair, Jesus Christ wouldn’t have died in our place.
Parenting is a sort of dying to self. Every day, we choose to set aside our own ambitions for our children’s sake. We place the child’s needs over our own, even when they don’t appreciate or understand it. Years of sacrifice are funneled into the child, and if all goes well, you form a relationship unlike anything else. It’s heartbreaking when the bond between parent and child is broken, but heartwarming when it’s strong.
There’s No Place I’d Rather Be
Going back to my evening ordeal—I took the day off preemptively since I was still sick, and my wife was back to work, so Caden and I hung out. For someone who cried throughout most of the night, he was energetic and in a great mood. Caden’s favorite activity is riding escalators, so I took him to Target, where we would ride up and down for hours. I kept making eye contact with the same employee over and over (I wonder what goes through their mind as they watch me). Whenever we approached the first step of the escalator, Caden would reach up to take my hand. If he didn’t feel it, he would tilt his head to look up at me to make sure I was still there.
There’s a lake outside the Target, so we walked around looking at all the geese. When he needed to use the bathroom, I took him to Uncle Julio’s, where they were also cooking up fresh tortillas. Seeing Caden eyeing them, I asked if I could get one. We sat outside in 72-degree sunny weather on the bench, eating that tortilla together and watching people walk by. A rush of nostalgia and calm suddenly overcame me. I realized that I was happy, and at the same time, a little sad knowing these moments were limited.
This happiness is a little different. Before, happiness came from doing fun things, relaxing, or when life was easy. Parenting, however, provides very few of these moments. It’s hard to say that watching a baby is particularly fun, relaxing, or easy. But despite all these, what made me happy was knowing that, as big as the world is, and despite all the things I could be doing, I was right where I needed to be. Nothing was more important than sitting next to Caden on that beautiful day.
“There is no place I’d rather be than here with you watching geese.”
A lot will change as he grows up, and many things will remain only in my memories. But through all the change, if Caden would at least continue to sit on these benches with me, then that would be enough.
