Uncle's Letter.

An uncle sent me a hand written letter with this article:

Neil Steinberg - Chicago Sun-Times 1/11/2009

The toughest job you'll ever love

Imagine you are a novice mountain climber about to attempt Mt. Everest, the tallest mountain on Earth.

You mention your pending expedition to one old pro who has been to the summit three times.

"Oh that's great," he says. "The view from the top -- fantastic!"

You mention your trek to another veteran guide.

"Stop by the Khumbu Lodge in Namche -- they're famous for their ginkgo biloba tea."

A third climber replies: "Nicest people in the world, sherpas. Once they're your friend, you're friends for life."

Do you think this advice is missing something? Are these pros letting our novice mountaineer down by not mentioning, oh for instance, the brutal Himalayan cold, or the sudden storms and avalanches, or the peril of oxygen deprivation, or the will-sapping physical exhaustion?

Shouldn't someone bring that up?

That is my approach toward prospective parents. I dined with two acquaintances last week, each preparing to welcome a child in the coming months. I found myself giving each the same little speech.

I told them that while parenthood is the greatest thing in the world, and my big regret in life is not having more kids, being a parent is also very hard.

"I remember the second night Ross was home from the hospital," I told them. "I was sitting, holding this howling baby at 3 o'clock in the morning while my wife was weeping in the bathroom, and I looked down at this newborn and thought: Oh, right. This is why those teenage girls kill their kids. Now I understand. Because I'm 35, I have all the money I need, my wife and I desperately wanted this child, for years, and it's Day Two and I'm losing my mind. ..."

This isn't a terrible admission, I hope. Most parents experience that moment. It passes, thank goodness, and the general experience, as I said, is one of life's great joys.

But somebody should tell parents-to-be that it is also a grueling, exhausting, maddening challenge -- like an Everest climb -- so that they're prepared, so that when they find themselves at their wits' end, they'll know it is the difficulty of the challenge they are tackling, and not something particularly wrong with them.

I've had parents-to-be recoil at hearing this, and accuse me of being mean, of raining on their parade. But I'm doing them a favor. Aren't I?