My first son entered the world when I was just 19. At that age, I had minimal possessions and even fewer desires. What I craved were experiences, connections, and emotions rather than material goods. I immersed myself in the process of healing from a challenging childhood, determined to shield my son from my past traumas. Although I inevitably passed some of my struggles onto him, the dedication I put into therapy, reading, and journaling transformed what could have been a tumultuous upbringing into one filled with love and emotional stability.
As a new mom, I would take my little boy out equipped with just a diaper, wipes, and perhaps a change of clothes. My mother would chuckle, reminiscing about how much parenting had evolved. “I couldn’t step outside without a cart full of supplies,” she would say. Without the pressure of comparison, as I had no friends with children, my son thrived on the attention he received as the only child at home and in social settings. I opted for a sling or my arms over a stroller, and breastfed him, eliminating the need for bottles or formula.
Our adventures included weekly visits to bookstores, trips to the park, and even dirt bike rallies and beach outings. By the time he turned two, he was one of the happiest, most observant, and secure little ones you could imagine. People often remarked on his politeness, maturity, and ability to engage in conversations. I would simply smile in response while he entertained himself for hours as I wrote.
To stay close, I worked as a nanny and later as a preschool teacher, which allowed us to be together throughout the day. I took college classes at night when my mom could watch him. For nearly all of those early years, we were inseparable. We co-slept, shared cuddles, and danced around the house. His collection of toys was modest, his wardrobe even more so, as I dressed him in second-hand clothes and gifted him used toys. Our cherished tradition was Friday Night Family Night, where we’d order pizza and rent movies from Blockbuster—one for him, one for me. Our bond was strong, as he explored bugs, devoured countless books, and immersed himself in gardening and art.
Fast forward to my youngest child, a vivacious four-year-old. She enjoys many advantages that my firstborn did not. Born into a loving marriage and an extensive family, she has two working parents and the emotional stability that comes with it. At 38, I am more grounded and self-assured than I was in my early 20s. I am less anxious and have more emotional resources to offer her.
Her three older siblings are a great support system, providing companionship and lessons. Unlike my son, she has an abundance of toys—everything from building blocks to musical instruments and dolls. However, what she lacks is the kind of focused, undivided attention that my first child received from me and our extended family. While she is certainly not deprived, I feel a twinge of sadness realizing that I may not be as present for her as I wish.
I understand that she is surrounded by love and security. I’ve chosen to keep her home from preschool to foster our bond, yet the reality of balancing work and a busy household pulls me away from the moments that matter. I find myself struggling to stay grounded in the present, allowing the distractions of modern life to overshadow those early lessons I learned with my son.
I must remind myself that it’s not about the latest toy or the next thrilling activity. My daughter craves my presence—long walks without the rush to return home, playtime where I am fully engaged, and art sessions where we can share peaceful moments. I need to be intentional about being present, embracing the beauty of our time together without the distractions of daily chores or electronic devices.
Through these reflections, I remember the vital lessons of parenthood: it’s the quality time spent together that allows our children to thrive while we tackle the challenges of life. For more insights on balancing parenting and personal aspirations, check out our blog on home insemination.
In summary, the journey of parenting evolves with each child, and while circumstances change, the core needs of our children remain constant. They require love, attention, and connection above all else.