New parents struggle with all kinds of things. Sleep deprivation, time management, lifestyle changes, physical changes, the list goes on and on. But one change persists (arguably) longer than others, and that is the fear that you’re a bad parent. There might come a day that I am at peace with the changes in my body. There might come a full week that I can sleep normally again. There might finally come a time that I can sit down and read a book for leisure again. But I know that as long as I live, I will worry about the impact I’ve had, and continue to have, on my baby girl.

They say that hindsight is 20/20. You can see everything clearly when it’s in your rearview mirror. You’ve experienced the consequences and explored the “what if’s” after-the-fact, with the time and distance to find the bigger picture. Sometimes we find that we got it right, and other times we are horrified to realize we’ve done or said something that could become the worst kind of core memory for our child. Well intentioned or not, we might have caused damage, the extent of which we won’t know for many years, if we ever find out at all. I remember moments as a child that were so small and insignificant to the adults around me, but that are burned into my memory as if they happened yesterday. Moments that turned out to define parts of who I became as an adult, informing the way I interact with other people and the way I treat myself. So lately I have been wondering – how do I move forward in this parenting journey without worrying myself to death? Without being so hyper-focused on doing a “good job” that I end up over-correcting, over-burdening my child, and completely forgetting to enjoy the ride?

I know it sounds like I have an answer. But spoiler alert – I don’t. I do, however, have a starting point.

The fact is every parent is different and every child is even different-er. And different people will measure their parenting job using different tools. Think “Seasons of Love”…

You can measure your parenting “In daylights, in sunsets,” both of which you were awake for because your kid still hasn’t slept through the night. Or…
“In midnights, in cups of coffee,” the only time you have a little bit of quiet and the fuel that got you through it. Or…
“In inches, in miles,” your kid’s progress on the growth chart and the distance you’ve stepped while chasing them around the living room. Or…
“In laughter, in strife,” the number of giggles you got in a day versus the number of tears.

But whatever yardstick you use to decide if you’re a good parent or not, ultimately the one giving you your performance review is your little one. So I have been holding onto a little piece of insight that I learned somewhere in passing, so fleeting that I don’t remember when or where I heard it.

You are not raising your child to be who you want them to be. You are raising them to be who they are.

It is easy to fall into the trap that society convinces us is the truth. That our child is a reflection of us. And to a certain extent that is true. But as I watch my generation grow up and have their own families, I also see them breaking toxic generational cycles and treating their children like little humans with their own bodily autonomy, likes, dislikes, and emotions. Because that’s exactly what they are. Many of us are no longer holding children to a standard that we cannot reach ourselves. We have bad days and moments of frustration. We cry from exhaustion. We get hangry. And irritable when we’re sick. And most of the adults I know cry when they have to be around too many people. So why do we stifle kids? “Shush” them when they are crying because they fell down, or missed a nap, or dropped an ice cream cone? All the things that upset them would probably upset us, too. And quite frankly, most of us grown-ups are no better than they are at self-regulating. So I am approaching parenthood with a different mentality than the ones that came before us.

It is not my job to create a quiet, reserved, cooperative child for the world, but to prepare my child for a world that is loud, unpredictable, and often unaccommodating.

Of course I will instill manners and kindness in my daughter. Those are crucial to exist in a social environment. But the world will always be challenging, so I will also nurture the warrior that exists in her. Because she is not a reflection of me. She is going to be completely, unapologetically herself. I am not creating a carbon copy of myself, or some kind of Stepford child that will make the old ladies nod in approval. I’d much rather have a daughter that will make them clutch their pearls when she calls them out for saying something racist. In fact, I’m not “creating” anything. I am guiding her, encouraging her to be whoever and whatever she wants to be with the resilience and strength to thrive in a world that will try more than once to push her down.

Treat children like people. Thinking, feeling people. Because they are. The only difference between you and them is that they’re still learning the basics of the world. Things are loud and confusing, and they rely on us to give them the tools to navigate it all. Older (much, much older) generations would have you believe that parents have total unadulterated authority over children. Obedience is best, don’t talk back, I’ll give you something to cry about, yada yada yada. But I’d rather see myself as a guide. Throughout every stage of her life I will be whatever my daughter needs me to be. Mother, teacher, confidant, therapist, sounding board, safe place. Whatever she needs to become her most authentic self, it is my job to facilitate. Her identity is not mine to own, it is hers for me to love unconditionally. My daughter is separate and apart from me. What she chooses to do with her life, her identity, is for her and her alone to decide using the tools and preparation that I and her village have given her. I will teach her to be self-aware, but open to learning. Make decisions with both her brain and her heart. Be kind, but firm in her boundaries. Take risks, but stay safe. The rest is up to her. And she’ll be reminded that she can always, always, always come home.

Raise your kids like you raise tomatoes. Give them the nutrients they need to grow on their own terms. Give them time to figure out their shape, and space to take up as they please. If you take a step back and watch them become who they were always meant to be, you will learn in time that they will always find the sun.