Does being a parent make people happy? Not according to a recent BBC investigation into ‘the women who regret being mothers.’ It features one woman who describes motherhood as ‘like a trap you can’t escape.’
An overwhelming love sits atop happiness, tears, and tantrums alike
A slew of other publications have ploughed the same furrow. ‘I’m fed up of being a slave’, led the Daily Telegraph. ‘I love my kids but I regret having them. How can I accept my life as a parent?’ asked the Guardian. ‘I regret becoming a father – the children are ruining our marriage,’ laments a dad across at the i Paper, ‘I wish I could go back in time.’
So much misery. So much regret. And now it’s backed by research. A headline-grabbing new study published in Evolutionary Psychology has found no strong evidence that parenthood leads to greater happiness or life satisfaction. Once factors such as relationship status have been taken into account, parents are no happier than non-parents. This is in sharp contrast to older research, which has consistently shown that parents report feeling happier and that their lives have more meaning than people without children.
So why the sudden change? Those behind the first-person misery accounts claim to be taboo-busting. Parenting has always been grim, they argue, and only they are brave enough to say it out loud. Pity their poor kids who, in a few years, will learn from Google how much unhappiness they wrought.
In my own experience, with a sample size of three, parenthood throws up all kinds of emotions. There are moments of absolute joy: from watching your baby smile for the first time, to sharing jokes, tickling on the sofa and dancing in the kitchen, to taking your young adult for their first pint. There is immense pride in watching them overcome challenges and learn to walk, read, pass exams or drive. But there is also a daily grind of laundry, cooking and cleaning. And there is heartache when they are ill or upset. An overwhelming love sits atop happiness, tears, and tantrums alike.
No Greek tragedy or Shakespeare play would ever have been performed if such strongly held but mixed emotions did not speak to a permanent truth in the human condition. The question is: why were people in the past more likely to focus on the joy of having children, whereas today we are more likely to point out the negatives?
Children themselves have not changed, but the way that we, as adults, relate to them certainly has. Being a parent today is often a more intense and individualised experience than it was in the past. The stakes seem higher. Stick your toddler in front of a screen for an hour, and you’ll have the Prime Minister himself on your back. Shout, and you’ll be shelling out for counselling in years to come. Grandparents might live many miles away, and in any case, can’t be trusted not to dole out sugary snacks. So middle-class parents sign their kids up for a whirlwind of educational activities and try to make sure every moment counts towards their emotional development. It’s relentless, exhausting and stressful.
My own childhood in the 1980s couldn’t have been more different. We took ourselves to and from school and then played out in the street with friends or watched television. No one counted how many portions of veg we had eaten or thought to ask us how we felt about anything at all. Most mums and dads loved their children, but no one was ‘parenting’. Somewhere along the line, having children started to come with a job description, and joy was not included.
Today, our expectations have changed. Even asking whether children make us happy would have seemed bizarre to previous generations. Having children was part of being a grown-up, a natural next step after marriage. There was joy in being a parent, but the purpose of having children was not to make adults happy. Put bluntly: it wasn’t all about you. It was about being part of a family and a community, and sharing a commitment to raising the next generation.
We badly need to challenge this grim narrative of regret
Discussing whether children make parents happy puts the decision to reproduce on a par with deciding to buy a new car, go on holiday, or move to a bigger house. It suggests our own feelings are all that matter. And if things don’t work out and we feel trapped, like a slave, or as if the peace of our marriage has been shattered, we are free to express buyer’s remorse.
We badly need to challenge this grim narrative of regret. Having children can be the most joyful experience imaginable. There is no other love like the bond between parent and child. But expecting children to bring us happiness misses the point entirely. It’s not what children do for us, but what we do for them.
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