I Love My Son, But I Hate Being A Parent

Just because I made another human, does that mean I’m forced to pretend I love every second of raising him?

I’m going to admit something that may seem taboo, but it’s only us, right? Do you promise to keep this secret? OK, here goes: I hate being a parent.

I know, right? What is wrong with me? Let me explain.

Without sounding the cliche alarms, I do want to convey that I love my son more than life itself; I really, really do. I would die for him, and my husband and I work very hard to provide him with the best life possible. With that said, I’m not really a fan of being a parent most days.

Didn’t you ever want a job so badly, you would do just about anything to get the position? Then, once you get it, the newness wears off, and though you love your colleagues, the job itself just becomes kind of “meh?” That’s how I feel.

All I ever wanted was to be a parent. I’d cry every month when my period arrived, on time, without the possibility of conception. It was like being called back for interviews, but never actually getting confirmation the job is yours, and not ever really knowing if you’d get the job at all.

I know that there are plenty of people who suffer from infertility, who would trade places with me in heartbeat. I do not want to be insensitive, and I completely understand your pain, but this is my truth, and I’m deeply sorry if it offends you. And if you’re still reading this, you’re probably calling me all kinds of names. I get it. Go for it.

Taking care of another human being is a gift, but think about it: A human life is in your hands for at least 18 years. For selfish people like myself, that’s a long commitment, and one that I did not fully grasp until I actually became a parent.

This is not to say that I don’t enjoy being with my son; he’s hysterical and brilliant. I’m not sure where he came from because he’s way beyond anything I could ever dream of creating. But aren’t I allowed to hate the job itself? Just because I made another human, does that mean I’m forced to pretend I love every second of raising him? Hell no!

I hate changing diapers. I hate not being able to quickly run out without figuring out child care, which, in my case, doesn’t exist. I miss the times when it was just my husband and me. I hate forcing my child to endure school, which felt like a lifetime of misery for me because I wasn’t very popular. I hate having to schedule doctors appointments around my husband’s busy schedule because we are a one-car family. I hate the anxiety I face every day wondering if the world is safe enough for such an innocent soul like my son’s.

Some people love parenthood, but why should I continue to follow in this imaginary lifestyle because society tells me I have to?

I’ll be the scapegoat. I’ll be the one to open up, and speak for others who I know feel the same. I know because I’ve spoken to them.

So, moms and dads, if you love your child, but hate being a parent, raise your hand. I promise you, you are not alone.

Lola Stark is a writer who loves cheese, books, and napping.

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