How to Embrace Your Unique Parenting Journey

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I’ve dived into the books, explored countless blogs, and even skimmed through lively Facebook debates. My journey began with those adorable weekly emails that informed me about my fetus, like when they got their tiny fingernails. I thought I knew what it meant to be the ‘perfect’ parent.

I made the intentional choice to welcome my baby into the world through the wonders of unmedicated vaginal birth. She latched on right away, and we enjoyed hours of skin-to-skin cuddling and nursing long before they took her for her first clean-up and weighing.

I exclusively breastfed both of my children well into their toddler years. They refused even a drop of formula when I was away—only trying it when they turned six months. Nursing in public? Absolutely. I took pride in normalizing breastfeeding and educating others on its benefits. When my oldest developed a dairy allergy, I willingly gave up all dairy products—even ice cream and grilled cheese—for two full years, all in the name of providing her with optimal nutrition.

Their adorable little bottoms were adorned with every type of cloth diaper imaginable, including some custom-made by a lovely local mom. I wrapped them in the softest fabrics, which is why I could never bring myself to spank them. I wore them in slings, wraps, and carriers, and when they cried at night, I welcomed them to my bed where they slept closely, comforted by my presence.

My parenting style is so ‘crunchy’ that it could probably chip a tooth. But you know what this approach has resulted in? Two healthy kids. That’s about it.

Now, my little blessings thrive on chicken nuggets, fish sticks, and an occasional snack of Pringles. They sneak sips of Coke at their grandma’s house and still haven’t mastered sleeping through the night. They’re currently 6 and 3—only behaving decently half the time. The other half? I sometimes feel like throwing my shoe at them. But nope, spanking is off the table; I know that my frustration would take over, and I don’t want to end up in jail (though, I have to admit, the thought of jail doesn’t sound so bad sometimes—three meals a day and a cot to myself?).

Breastfeeding stuck around because, a) they wouldn’t stop, b) it was the ultimate sleep aid, and c) I was shedding weight like nobody’s business until they stopped nursing, and it came right back. I never used a cover in public, either; trying to wrestle them into it was like containing feral cats in a sack! Besides, I figured everyone had seen my breasts during my college years, so why hide?

One of my best mom friends, Sarah, takes a very different approach. She’s a firm believer in spanking, had two C-sections, and her one child nursed for just a few months. Yet, her kid is a little rockstar—no allergies, a veggie-loving champ, and already managing bedtime like a pro.

Don’t get me wrong; I adore my kids. They’re little badasses in their own right, constantly getting compliments on their expansive vocabularies (which sometimes include a few choice four-letter words). My oldest can let out a toot that rivals any grown man’s, and the youngest thinks it’s the height of comedy.

Here’s what motherhood has taught me: At the end of the day, what really matters is loving your kids and keeping them safe. Everything else? It’s a total roll of the dice. There’s plenty of research out there, but let’s be real—there are breastfed kids who are brilliant and formula-fed ones who struggle, and vice versa (I was exclusively formula-fed and turned out alright, if I do say so myself).

So, fellow moms, do what feels right for you. Celebrate your parenting victories, whether that’s telling the tale of your unmedicated second birth or the chaotic, medicated experience of your first. I love both my kids equally, despite the different journeys that brought them into my life.

Just remember, the one thing you can control about your child’s future is how much love you pour into them. That’s it. Get them here, love them fiercely, and keep an open mind. It’s all we can really do.

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