A decade ago, I received the news that I was expecting my first child, and what a journey it has been! The past ten years have been filled with challenges, triumphs, chaos, and delightful surprises. According to various parenting authorities, I’ve likely made countless missteps along the way.
In the early days of motherhood, I grappled with the weight of my decisions, particularly regarding breastfeeding. While I wholeheartedly support a woman’s right to choose how she nourishes her child, my experience was far from ideal. I managed to breastfeed my first son for a grueling six weeks, and frankly, I despised every moment of it. The struggle amplified my postpartum depression and strained my ability to bond with my baby. Ultimately, the choice to stop breastfeeding was laden with guilt and shame, but it was the right decision for both of us. By the time my second son arrived three years later, I confidently opted not to breastfeed at all.
I have immense admiration for mothers who find joy in breastfeeding, but as Amy Poehler aptly put it, “Good for you! Not for me.” As a new parent, I also broke several other so-called “rules.” For instance, recognizing my own need for sleep, I sleep-trained my first son when he was just a few months old, adhering to a strict nap schedule. I often rushed home to avoid a brief car nap, desperate for a peaceful two-hour rest in his crib.
Additionally, I took countless photographs during his early months, which some might argue distracted me from motherhood. However, capturing those moments provided a crucial escape from the shadows of postpartum depression, allowing me to find joy while navigating my recovery.
Now that the baby years are behind me, my parenting choices look different. I sometimes let slip a curse word in front of my kids, teaching them that timing is everything when it comes to language. My 9-year-old still sleeps with a cherished blanket and sucks his thumb—an orthodontic bill feels like a small price for peaceful nights. Ironically, I find myself taking fewer pictures these days, worrying that I might not be preserving every precious memory, but I remind myself that I’m living in the moment and cherishing our experiences in my own way.
Perhaps the most significant “flaw,” if you listen to the myriad of parenting bloggers and experts, is that I occasionally raise my voice. I find myself yelling when my children squabble or when I’ve repeated requests a dozen times. While I acknowledge that yelling isn’t the best approach, I also recognize that it’s part of my emotional landscape. I apologize to my children and engage in conversations about it, reinforcing the lesson that parents have feelings too.
In today’s world, it seems everyone has a definitive opinion on the “correct” way to raise kids, often leading to an overwhelming array of conflicting advice. The well-meaning suggestions can feel like judgment, and it’s all too easy for parents to succumb to feelings of guilt and regret. What might be deemed a mistake by one parent could be a triumph for another, as there are countless ways to love and nurture a child.
Over the past ten years, I’ve undoubtedly made my share of what some might label mistakes. Yet, I believe these experiences are not sources of regret but rather integral parts of my parenting journey. Maybe these so-called mistakes are opportunities for growth, helping us to trust ourselves and embrace the chaotic beauty of parenting.
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Summary: Parenting is filled with ups and downs, and what some may call mistakes can be seen as essential learning experiences. Embracing our choices, whether they involve breastfeeding or other parenting decisions, allows us to grow and adapt in this ever-changing landscape of motherhood.