Why is Parenting Harder These Days?
The original plan was to have two kids. My wife wanted three, I think because she was one of three, but we didn’t get started until she was 35 and I was 42, and from a Chinese medical perspective this is late in the game to go for the dynasty.
I am a (struggling) acupuncturist. My wife is a (successful) MD who now practices Integrative Medicine. While we’re confident we’d have no trouble getting pregnant, it reminds me of the great Chris Rock bit about single moms proclaiming they “don’t need a man” to raise their kids. “Sure, you could do it,” he preaches. “That don’t mean it’s to be done!”
Instead, we’ve gone from three to two, to one and done. As someone whose younger brother has always been my best friend, I repent not bestowing my daughter with the same gift. My fear is that he/she would come at the expense of her parents’ health.
From a (Chinese) medical perspective, labor and delivery is the hardest thing the human body can endure. Follow that with the systemic fluid and mitochondrial (“qi”) loss that comes from breastfeeding and sleepless nights, plus one of the shortest maternity leaves of any nation in the world, and how can we expect moms to recover and reproduce (again)?
They say parenting is harder now than it was in the past, and everyone has a theory as to why. Many say it’s the phones and social media, although that doesn’t yet apply to those of us with babies or toddlers. Others say it’s the pressure we feel to be perfect — to not make mistakes and give our children the best chance at success. While this may be true for some, it doesn’t resonate with me, which has forced me to reflect on why my own experience has been so difficult. Why am I broken and defeated? How can I reconcile being so selfish as to deprive my daughter of a sibling, when my relationship with own has been one of the best things in my life throughout it?
In my opinion, it boils down to capitalism and information.
To the former, (American) Gen X and Millennials are two of the most career-focused generations in human history, equally so for both genders. We were conditioned from an early age to not have babies too early, to prioritize professional success — family was inevitable and could wait until we were older. So, we waited until we were older. Now we are confronted with parenting babies or toddlers in our 35–45-year-old bodies, in addition to working full-time jobs, to contrast nearly every other generation in every part of the world across history, who did so in 20–30-year-old bodies where only one parent worked. With inflation rates astronomically disproportionate to mean salaries and wages, both parents are mostly forced to work. And since we waited so long to procreate, free support in the form of grandparents are elder — not just older. Not only can most not care for our child, but they need to be cared for themselves. This biological reality alone makes parenting objectively harder than it was for all other humans across history. Now add the burden of information.
For many of us it isn’t that we necessarily feel external pressure to be perfect, but the information that we have, whether via the internet or observation of mistakes previous generations made, can induce an internal pressure to be (much) better. If you subscribe like most of our friends do, to the principles of gentle (“progressive”) parenting, you don’t have the luxury of using fear by yelling, to silence tantrums or stifle the organic expression of raging toddler emotions. Having to honor and connect with the rollercoaster that is these little humans’ big feelings is an everyday grind and infinitely more challenging than just shouting: “Stop crying, or I’ll send you to your room!” If my wife and I were 30, only one of us worked, and we employed this reactive approach, I can imagine how much easier this all would be.
As its benefits become more ubiquitously known, more women are breastfeeding and for longer durations of time than in prior generations. While this is beautiful and rewarding, it is also physiologically costly, which is in turn psychologically costly. Incorporating indigenous wisdoms within a societal context that is anything but is a tall order. Historically, most girls nursed and bed-shared without careers. They were 20 years old and supported by a team of family members that lived by their side — not 40, alone, and employed full-time.
Another antiquated technique I find our generation to be increasingly more intentional around is the use of snacks and screens to quell or pro-actively prevent toddler dysregulation. Most boomers didn’t know how bad sugar and processed foods were for our bodies, nor screens for our brains, and their result was exorbitant spikes in depression, anxiety, ADHD, metabolic syndromes, and autoimmune disease. Aging parents defend their hapless choices with cliches: “… and you turned out all right.” But we didn’t. The science is in, and the burden of knowledge is ours.
It would be much easier to serve our child pizza every week, pour cold cereal for breakfast, and permit sugary treats that would subdue her into subordination with the same hankering as a drug addict for a fix. Instead, we are relegated to “healthy snacks” that are held hostage until protein and/or veggies are consumed, which is an everyday, if not every meal struggle (that I refuse to give up on). From what I hear, sweets in other first world places such as Asia or Europe are not nearly as sweet as ours, which is infuriating. This doesn’t mean she’s prohibited from ice cream or birthday cakes at parties. We don’t want to fetishize them or make her a social outcast. We just (silently) recognize them for what they are: Literally toxic treats to be had in great moderation. I refuse to be a contributor to my daughter’s insulin resistance.
TV time started when she turned two, thirty minutes per day, usually in the morning, allowing me to prepare breakfast without getting screamed at and having pots and pans strewn across the kitchen floor. At the end of her show we are forced to actually parent, either read books, play with toys, or act out assigned roles in her creative fictitious directives around the house, tediously exhausting endeavors that we are steadfast in encouraging. The brutal truth is our steadfastness is not because we’re trying to be the greatest parents of all time (although I guess on some level we all are) — it’s because we recognize these mediums for what they are and refuse to allow them to wash our baby’s brain.
In the times where we have allowed her to simply watch a movie, it’s as if the greatest babysitter in the world has descended from the heavens and in an instant, we become invisible. She wants for nothing. Any feelings of sadness, frustration, or need for collaborative play are immediately dissipated in the glare from the big screen. She is mesmerized by the characters, colors, and sounds, and we are free to just clean up, fold clothes, or have some overdue, necessary discussion. It is as lovely as it is disturbing, as it is tempting, to push her time limit further, which would hugely improve the quality of our lives, but at what expense?
It is just more difficult to do things right, in every facet of life, from sports to the creative arts, medicine, or home repair. It takes greater thought and discipline to analyze disease from a holistic medical perspective and implement lifestyle modifications than to simply pop a pill. It is more difficult and exhausting in marriage to communicate your hurts and desires than to simply harbor resentments and act them out through dishonesty or rage. Parenthood these days is not harder because we’re all necessarily trying to create the next Beethoven, Einstein, or Tom Brady. It’s not harder because Instagram is pushing me to be better. I’ve no time and little inclination for social media lifestyle advice. It is harder simply because we are older and busier with less help and support, and because we have more information than any group ever has across history.
