Yes, parenting is hard, but it is also joyful and wonderful

I wanted to be a mom from as far back as I can remember, and I had done a lot of babysitting, so I thought I knew what I was getting into when my husband and I had our first child two weeks after our first anniversary.
Hahahahaha.
What’s that old saying? “When I had no children, I had six theories about how to be a good parent. Now that I have six children, I have no theories.” Yeah, that was me.
When my first was born and had colic, I cried right along with him almost every night. I had no idea how to deal with toddler tantrums or pretty much anything. I learned, but just when I thought I’d gotten it down, another child would come along with completely different needs and I’d have to start all over.
For a long time, hearing things like “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world” put way too much pressure on me. Mother’s Day was painful for a while, since I could see no way to actually be that perfect parent everyone seemed to talk about.
I spent more than 30 years “in the trenches” as a full-time, stay-at-home mom. I am grateful for the opportunity to do so. But, it was often lonely and stressful. I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. Dr. Vivek Murthy, U.S. Surgeon General, recently issued a general advisory on the mental health and well-being of parents and the need for better support. In February 2023, Governor Spencer Cox declared the month “Utah Maternal Health Awareness Month.” “Whereas, in 2021 more than half of Utah mothers report experiencing depression or anxiety before, during or after pregnancy,” and “Whereas maternal depression and anxiety are the leading complications of childbirth” (in Utah), and the leading cause of maternal death in Utah, this declaration seeks to bring awareness to not only the problem, but to solutions as well.” We know we must do better.
I was having a hard time finding the divine in the poopy diapers. That part was not exactly my dream job. Neither was finding out that my children preferred to use the wall to wipe their nose on instead of a tissue. Or very loud tantrums in public places. In fact, I remember one day crying at the kitchen sink because of math. Specifically, dinner math. My oldest was only 4 and the meal routine was already in a rut. For some reason, I began to calculate how many meals lay ahead of me. Let’s see … three meals a day, 365 days a year for oh, I don’t know — 30 years. … And that’s when I started to cry because the answer is 32,850.
But here’s the thing about trenches: they’re deep, their sides are steep and you can’t really see out over the edges. And, you don’t stay in them forever. Looking back, parenting a houseful of kids wasn’t that bad. In fact, I really miss those days sometimes. I learned how to deal with poopy diapers and sticky walls and loud tantrums without losing my cool. Ralph Waldo Emerson once said “That which we persist in doing becomes easier to do, not that the nature of the thing has changed but that our power to do has increased.” I live by that mantra everyday.
And here’s something else I’ve learned looking back at the trenches of motherhood, something I could not see as clearly while I was in them. There is some of the divine in poopy diapers and endless messes and mouthy teenagers and tantruming toddlers. Like all rough patches in life, it will get better.
I learned that the sacrifice required of parents is indeed sacred and can be sanctified to our good. I learned to pray mightily for help, and I was strengthened. Sometimes I was granted an infusion of physical and emotional strength right away and sometimes it came slowly, but it always came. I can look back on my 37 years of being a parent (and I still have a child at home) and see how parenting has changed me for the better, many times over. While I don’t think the Surgeon General’s warning is “dour,” I do agree with my fellow Deseret News columnists that the difficulties are not the entire picture. There is also much joy. I would choose motherhood a thousand times over, even knowing about the rough patches. And then, joy of joys, there’s being a grandma! Who knew it could be so much fun.