A decade ago, I discovered I was expecting my first child, and since then, the journey has been a whirlwind of experiences—joys, challenges, and unexpected turns. According to the myriad of “parenting authorities” out there, I’ve likely made countless errors along the way.
As a new mother, the mistakes I made seemed overwhelming. One significant choice was my decision to stop breastfeeding after just six weeks, which I found to be a grueling experience. While I wholeheartedly support breastfeeding and the autonomy of mothers to choose how they nourish their children, it simply didn’t work for me. The pressure to conform to the narrative that “breast is best” added guilt to my postpartum struggles, impacting my bond with my son. It took time, but I eventually accepted that quitting was the best decision for both of us. When my second son arrived three years later, I confidently chose not to breastfeed at all.
I admire those who find joy in breastfeeding. Yet, as Amy Poehler aptly puts it, “Good for you! Not for me.” I also broke various other so-called “rules” during my early parenting days. I sleep trained my son when he was just a few months old, prioritizing my sleep and adhering to a strict nap schedule. I became quite the photographer, capturing hundreds of moments during his first year. While it may have distracted me from the experience of motherhood, it also provided a necessary outlet during my battle with postpartum depression.
Now that the baby phase has passed, my parenting “missteps” look different. I sometimes let my children hear me swear, explaining that there’s a time and place for such language. I allow my 9-year-old to sleep with his beloved blanket and suck his thumb, viewing orthodontic bills as a minor trade-off for peaceful nights. I find myself taking fewer photos than before, worrying that I’m missing out on documenting our family memories, yet I remind myself that I’m cherishing daily moments in my own way.
Perhaps the most contentious of my habits, according to various parenting blogs, is my tendency to yell. Whether it’s when my kids bicker or when they dawdle after being asked repeatedly to get ready, my voice sometimes raises. I recognize that yelling isn’t ideal and that there are better responses. However, I’m already quite full of guilt, and this is a reality of my parenting journey. I make it a point to apologize and discuss my reactions with my kids, teaching them that parents have feelings too.
In today’s world, there’s no shortage of opinions on the “right” way to raise children, and the conflicting advice can feel overwhelming. The well-meaning guidance from experts may inadvertently lead to feelings of guilt and regret. What one parent sees as a mistake, another may celebrate as a victory. Ultimately, there are countless valid ways to express love and raise children.
Over the past ten years, I’ve undoubtedly made my share of mistakes, and I will likely continue to do so. But perhaps regret shouldn’t be one of those mistakes. Instead, I see these experiences as integral to my journey. What we consider missteps can be opportunities to learn, trust ourselves, and embrace the chaotic beauty of parenthood.
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In summary, I have learned that parenting is less about perfection and more about growth, acceptance, and finding joy in the journey.