You hear so much awful stuff before you have a kid, like you'll

Hear, O children of tomorrow, the words of Spencer Matthews, who strips away the cloak of fear woven by the voices of others. He speaks of how, before becoming a parent, one is warned of endless nights, of exhaustion, of burdens too heavy to bear. Yet he declares boldly that these were but utter garbage, for he and his companion chose a different path: to remain relaxed, to cast aside dread, and to meet parenting not with fear, but with calm hearts. In this testimony lies a wisdom often hidden: that the spirit with which one approaches the labor of raising children shapes the journey as much as the tasks themselves.

The origin of his words lies in the long tradition of expectation and anxiety that shadows the path to parenthood. Across cultures and ages, elders have warned the young of the trials ahead, often cloaking truth in hyperbole to prepare them for hardship. Yet Matthews reminds us that foreboding words are not destiny. To enter parenthood with peace, humor, and trust is to disarm much of the suffering that arises from overthinking and fear. The battle is not only with the crying child, but with the fearful heart of the parent.

Consider the example of Franklin D. Roosevelt, who led a nation through the Great Depression and World War II. His rallying cry, “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself,” resonates here. Just as fear magnifies hardship for nations, so too does it magnify the difficulties of family life. Parents who fixate on warnings and worst-case tales often sink under anxiety, while those who approach their duty with calmness and humor find strength and endurance. Matthews’ words are a reminder that the greatest foe in parenting may not be the sleepless nights, but the stress that parents carry within themselves.

The emotional force of his reflection is clear. Parenting is not meant to be perfect, nor free of challenge, but it is meant to be lived. Children sense the energy of their guardians—an anxious parent raises anxious children, but a relaxed parent fosters resilience and joy. The “awful stuff” Matthews was warned of is not false, but neither is it inevitable. The truth lies in the attitude with which one meets the difficulties: stress tightens chains; calmness loosens them.

In practical terms, his words teach us to prepare not only with supplies and schedules, but with mindset and spirit. Parents should take time to breathe, to laugh, to let go of the illusion of control. When trials come, they should face them not as insurmountable storms, but as natural parts of life’s rhythm. Just as a sailor adjusts sails rather than cursing the winds, so should parents adjust their hearts instead of drowning in fear.

There is also a heroic dimension to Matthews’ reflection: to stand against the tide of anxious voices and declare that relaxed parenting is possible requires courage. It is easier to conform to the chorus of dread than to walk with peace. Yet, in doing so, he illustrates that the greatest gift a parent can give their child is not the absence of struggle, but the presence of calm assurance amidst it.

From this understanding arises a clear lesson: let all who walk the path of parenting guard their hearts against fear. Let them remember that stories of doom do not bind them, and that stress need not dictate the household. Choose instead to embrace calm, humor, and trust. In this way, what seemed an unbearable burden becomes a shared adventure, where love is not diminished by hardship, but deepened through resilience.

Thus, the teaching of Spencer Matthews endures: the less stressed you are, the easier you will find parenting. Let future generations hear this truth: that fear magnifies suffering, while calmness multiplies joy. In casting aside the weight of dread, parents free themselves to embrace the sacred work of raising children—not as a curse foretold, but as a blessing lived.