Aug. 19, 2016
Throughout my journey as a parent, I often grapple with the nagging feeling that the love and memories I’m creating for my children just aren’t enough. There’s this relentless drive to improve, to be better. Is that such a terrible aspiration? But then I recognize that much of this desire for perfection stems from within; I constantly question my value to everyone, including my kids.
I worry they might one day tell me that I’ve somehow failed them. Coming from a family that often felt more like a survival unit than a loving home, I’ve learned that families can unintentionally hurt one another. Separation seems to be a necessary space to breathe. As adults, we tend to stick together only when it feels safe, but often, we’re just hurting one another.
Having experienced a tumultuous childhood, I am determined to spare my children from such a fate. That’s why I’m committed to personal growth. I’ve sought therapy to mend the scars of my past, even though some linger. I strive to break the cycle of dysfunction. In caring for myself—despite the occasional twinge of selfishness—I’m ultimately nurturing them. They deserve to witness a mother who holds herself in high regard.
I remind myself that perfection is unattainable. I establish boundaries and treat my children with the consideration I longed for in my own upbringing. I practice patience, fairness, and refrain from yelling. I never tell them they cannot achieve something. Communication is key; I engage with them constantly, expressing my love openly every single day.
Will they remember the affectionate moments or the times I lost my cool over trivial matters? More importantly, will they find it in their hearts to forgive my imperfections and recognize my humanity? I genuinely hope so.
It’s crucial for children to witness their parents apologizing—to each other and to themselves. I wonder if this lesson can truly disrupt the cycle of my own fractured family. Will it compensate for the grand adventures we can’t seem to take or the activities we miss out on? Will all the ways I perceive myself as failing overshadow the love I strive to impart?
As I reflect on my childhood, I’m searching for the silver linings. There’s a delicate balance between the positive and the negative, and I want to uncover the value hidden within those darker memories. I recall the sensation of warm grass beneath my bare legs on summer days and the exhilaration of rolling down the hill in front of our house. My mind drifts to the songs I sang while jumping rope and the joy of playing with marbles and catching frogs.
I remember the sweet taste of banana popsicles melting too quickly in the heat, the thrill of racing down the road, and the satisfaction of washing the dirt off my feet after a day of play. Those fleeting moments of joy were my salvation, and they continue to shield me from the harsher realities of my past.
“Go outside,” I urge my kids. “Ride your bike and come back for a freezie—I got your favorite!” What I mean is, “I love you. Go enjoy your childhood; you deserve this freedom.” Unlike my own experience, where I never felt enough for my parents, I want my children to know they are always more than enough for me. Perhaps that’s where the difference lies.
Now, I just need to convince myself that I am enough for them too. And for myself.
If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this informative piece on intracervical insemination. For those considering the journey of parenthood, Make a Mom has excellent resources. Additionally, if you have questions about fertility coverage, the UCSF site is a great resource.
In summary, the path to motherhood is fraught with challenges and self-doubt, but it’s also filled with opportunities for growth, love, and self-acceptance. By prioritizing our own well-being, we can nurture our children in ways we might not have experienced ourselves, ultimately breaking the cycle of past pain.