Your Brain Is Editing the Baby Years—And That’s a Good Thing
On why I remember the early years so fondly, even when they nearly broke me
I was feeling out of sorts a few weeks ago. There was nothing I could pinpoint as the cause, but, like many of us these days, it all just felt overwhelming. Too much laundry, too many appointments, too many distressing political headlines, TOO MUCH! I was irritable and snappy with the kids, feeling overwhelmed and emotionally spent. I decided to pull out my phone and look at a few old pictures of the kids. The youngest two were hanging around me (or on me — I am sure you know the feeling), so I tracked down a few baby and toddler pictures of each of them. Together we laughed at the funny faces, the adorable baby goodness, and the video clips of toddler antics. Moreover, slowly, my mood shifted. I felt lighter, happier. I felt an internal explosion of gratitude and happiness at these little people who share my life with me. These beautiful, incredible children of mine!
But, close on the heels of this gratitude and joy were the realities of how tough those days with a houseful of four young children were for me. My exhaustion was a living thing, ever present and pressing. I would hold their baby selves to my chest, but this would often be coupled with a knot of anxiety that something might happen to them (or that they might wake up mid-nap!), all marinating in a stew of never having time to myself. In the moment, it was not joy and happiness. It was at times unbearable, sprinkled with glittering gems of meaning and deep satisfaction. I would savor the feeling of an infant's head asleep against my shoulder, or a hand resting comfortably in mine as we crossed a street. It was not until now, years later, that I could filter and distill out these moments from the rest and feel the happiness of my children’s early years. Perhaps this is why grandparents and those with grown children will carelessly say to a new parent,
“Enjoy the time!”
“Cherish these days,”
“It all goes by so quickly!”
I remember gritting my teeth when, as a young mother, I would hear such imperatives from older parents around me. I would silently vow to never forget the complexity of emotions during this period of family life. I felt unheard and unseen every time someone said this to me because I was intimately acquainted with how difficult this new parent existence was, and they seemed not to see me at all. I could see, however, that for some, the forgetting was swift and profound. To them, I mused, it must seem like the drudgery never existed. To those offering me unsolicited advice to “soak it all in,” it truly seemed like all that they could recall of early parenting was bliss. This led me to wonder: Why is it that we can, and do, find so much joy in parenting years after the fact? What are the tricks of memory and nostalgia that allow us to lay a quiet glow upon our memories, washing out the details of monotony, exhaustion, and anxiety?
My musings on this subject led me to examine some of the cognitive and neuroscience literature, and perhaps not surprisingly, I found nothing that explicitly relates to mothering or parenting. However, there are lines of reasoning and ideas that I think can be especially helpful in understanding this current dilemma of how parenting can be such a joy, years later. One concept in the memory literature is that of memory reconsolidation. Relatively new to the cognitive research stage, memory reconsolidation is the process wherein stored memories are “reactivated [and] enter a fragile or labile state and become susceptible to modification or update” (Sridhar et al., 2023, pg. 2). Thus, our memories are not permanent and fixed, but ethereal and malleable, open to reinterpretation. When an experienced parent tells us how delightful the first few years with their children were, this may reflect a reinterpretation of their experiences rather than their actual lived experience. It is also important to note that these earliest memories of parenting may be particularly susceptible to reinterpretation, as we also know how crucial sleep is in the consolidation of memory (Sridhar et al.). As many will attest, the infancy and early years of parenting are not an ideal setting for memory formation that relies upon sleep!
Another helpful concept to better understand memory and parenting is the work of Daniel Kahneman (2011), who famously noted the distinction between the “experiencing self” that lives in the present and “feels” each moment as it happens, and the “remembering self” that reflects on the past and generates a story of the lived experiences from the vantage point of time, distance, and reflection. Perhaps not surprisingly, these two selves often diverge, and understanding them may help us comprehend why we can feel so exhausted, overwhelmed, and spent in the moment yet recall the experience as joyful, sweet, magical, or “not all that bad.” This transformation of memory is further assisted by some powerful biases in our cognition, as well. One such bias that applies particularly to parenting, I think, is termed “rosy retrospection” (Mitchel & Thompson, 1994). Rosy retrospection refers to the tendency to view past events more favorably than they were experienced at the time. It is the tendency to view past events through “rose colored glasses,” in which events are gently whitewashed with nostalgia, softening the edges of the more painful or difficult periods of the memory.
In addition to rosy retrospection, we are also subject to a unique cognitive bias known as the “peak-end rule” (Kahneman et al., 1993), wherein we tend to evaluate memories based on the peak emotion of the experience, coupled with how the event ended. When we do this, the remembering self selects out elements of our experiences to shape our interpretation of events, dismissing other aspects of the experience, like duration. This might help us to understand why, years later, a parent is more likely to recall the early newborn days as “special” or “worth it,” even if the experience was emotionally taxing at the time. The first smile we glimpse from our little one, with its overpowering, positive glow that truly feels electric, may thus send a multitude of other moments swiftly and permanently to a no-man’s-land of memory.
Another important aspect to understand is that, in reconsolidating memories, we also add meaning to them, weaving these memories into the tapestry of our identities and how we perceive ourselves. Although the daily challenges of caring for young children can be complex in the moment, they are also what can lead us to feel most satisfied with our lives (Kahneman, 2010).
Lastly, as I have experienced, the process of looking through old pictures of our kids and revisiting cherished memories can be a profoundly positive force for our present selves. In many ways, being susceptible to rosy retrospection or the peak-end rule may not be entirely negative, as it can uplift our present selves to a positive, meaningful, and emotionally rewarding place. On that day several weeks ago, I felt better for having strolled down memory lane, and research supports this as well. In a study of Facebook users, for instance, researchers found that the time spent reflecting on old photos and wall posts was associated with a self-soothing effect and enhanced well-being, particularly for those with a history of mental health challenges (Good et al., 2013). Thus, reminiscing can transport us to a more positive emotional state and help us understand who we are. The danger, however, is neglecting to acknowledge that we are rewriting our memories every time we do this. So, while revisiting the past can emotionally benefit us older parents, please refrain from telling a new parent to “enjoy every moment!” They will, eventually, just not right now!