As a parent, I often find myself questioning my choices. Am I making the right decisions? Am I letting my children down? Am I a good mom? It’s a struggle that many of us face, and few can claim to have had perfect role models in their own parents. Most of us would tweak our approach in various ways.
In my case, I did have role models, but they exemplified what not to do. My parents served as perfect examples of how to parent incorrectly.
From a young age, I sensed that my parents weren’t particularly eager to have children. My arrival on a pregnancy test came at a challenging time in both their lives and relationship. I always felt a sense of being unwanted, not because I lacked affection or was told I was loved frequently, but because love, in my young mind, felt like an obligation—something like, “We’re here, so I guess we have to love each other.” I didn’t believe that adults truly loved each other, similar to how I thought no adult really believed in Santa Claus.
My parents divorced while I was in kindergarten. Despite the adults around me trying to reassure me, I never felt it was my fault; I knew it wasn’t. They simply made each other miserable. My mother was ambitious yet stressed and bitter about how her life had turned out, while my father had dreams fueled by ego but lacked the ambition to chase them, leading to self-sabotage. Their constant fighting made me think that yelling was the norm in families. In fact, their divorce was one of the few things they did correctly.
Post-divorce, my mother was awarded custody. My father made just enough effort to complicate the custody process without truly wanting to take on the responsibilities of parenting. He would disappear for weeks or months, and I often overheard my mother’s family criticize him for being an absent father, only wanting our cheerful greetings when he showed up.
Understandably, my mother held onto a lot of anger. Her life had shifted dramatically—raising three children, grappling with debt my father left her with, and working to complete her degree for a stable career. The pain she endured was profound, and unfortunately, she directed much of that pain toward me.
I recognize that parenting can be overwhelming. I’ve lost my temper with my own kids, and I’ve had moments that I wish I could take back. But I’ve learned not to act on those angry impulses, knowing firsthand what it feels like to be on the receiving end. I remember the confusion of being told I was hated during a frustrating moment, or being made to feel unloved while driving to school because of my shortcomings.
My upbringing serves as a clear guide for me on how to parent differently. My parents demonstrated how easy it can be to get it right: love your children and ensure they feel that love.
No matter what challenges I face, I make it a priority to show my kids daily that they are wanted and cherished. I don’t assume that saying “I love you” is enough; I express it repeatedly from morning to night. They know I make mistakes, but they never doubt my love for them. Everything I do is born out of love, not obligation. I wanted them, and I’m grateful to be their mother, leaving no room for ambiguity.
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In summary, my upbringing has shaped my approach to parenting, serving as a constant reminder of the importance of love and support. The lessons I learned from my parents’ mistakes guide me in nurturing my own children with unconditional love.