Parenting is love, sure, but it's as much about receiving love

Hearken to the words of Rumaan Alam, who spoke with piercing honesty: “Parenting is love, sure, but it’s as much about receiving love as it is giving it. Parenthood is a kind of vanity.” These words are not to be taken lightly, for they reveal the dual nature of the sacred bond between parent and child. Love is indeed the essence of parenting—but Alam reminds us that the love of a parent is not only poured forth like water from a vessel; it also flows back, filling the parent with a sense of being needed, cherished, even glorified. Thus, parenthood becomes not only sacrifice, but also a mirror reflecting the parent’s own longing for meaning and remembrance.

In the days of the ancients, fathers and mothers believed their children to be the continuation of their own flesh, the living proof that their name and spirit would not vanish into dust. To sire children was to cheat death itself, for through the child the parent endured. Herein lies the vanity of parenthood: it is not merely an act of selfless devotion, but also a declaration—“I have created life, and in this life, I live again.” Alam’s words echo this ancient truth, reminding us that the parent’s heart is not free of pride, but bound by it, entwined in the need for recognition through the eyes of the child.

Consider the tale of King Priam of Troy, who fathered fifty sons and daughters. His love for them was vast, but so too was his vanity in their number and might. Yet when Hector fell before Achilles, Priam’s grief revealed both the depth of his love and the wound to his pride. For in losing his son, he lost not only a beloved child but also a part of himself—the reflection of his own greatness and legacy. Thus, the story of Priam shows us that parenthood, while adorned in love, is also laced with the yearning for immortality and affirmation.

But should we condemn this truth? No, for the vanity of parenthood is not mere selfishness. It is bound up with the deepest human desire: to be seen, to be loved, to matter in the life of another. When a child’s arms encircle the parent’s neck, when small lips whisper “I love you,” the parent feels exalted, almost divine. The toil, the sleepless nights, the endless sacrifices—these are borne with greater ease because the parent is also rewarded with adoration. Thus, the cycle of giving and receiving love sustains the spirit, making parenthood both humbling and elevating.

Yet there is danger here, as Alam warns in his subtle wisdom. If vanity becomes too great, the child may be pressed into a mold not of their own making, forced to bear the burden of fulfilling a parent’s unspoken dreams. A parent must be ever watchful, lest their longing for reflected glory overshadow the child’s freedom to grow as they are. For love, when poisoned by vanity alone, ceases to be love and becomes possession. The wise parent must recognize both sides of the truth: that they give life, but they do not own it.

What lesson then shall we draw? That parenting is both gift and mirror. It is right for parents to feel joy and pride in the love they receive, but it is wrong to bind the child in chains of expectation. The true task of the parent is to delight in the reflection without shattering the glass—to allow the child to become their own person, even as they carry the parent’s image within them.

Therefore, let all who walk this path take heed: Give love freely, and accept the love that returns without clinging. Celebrate the vanity of parenthood, but temper it with humility. Rejoice in the reflection, but honor the independence of the soul you have brought forth. Share in the glory, but release the need to control. And in doing so, you will discover a love that is both eternal and liberating.

Thus Rumaan Alam’s words, though sharpened with irony, conceal a profound truth: parenthood is love, but also vanity—and in embracing both, with wisdom and balance, one may walk the sacred road of parenting with honor.