By: Jordan Richards
Updated: Oct. 10, 2023
Originally Published: Oct. 9, 2023
I’ve always considered myself a late bloomer and a reformed people-pleaser. It wasn’t until I welcomed my first child into the world that I truly had to mature.
The moment he made his grand entrance, I felt an excruciating pain that took me back to my childhood when I had broken my tailbone after a mule incident at age eight. Who would have thought that two decades later, this same bone would pose a challenge as my son became stuck during labor?
With a C-section looming over us, my baby and I faced the situation head-on. I pushed with everything I had, and he somehow managed to re-injure that old bone, forcing his way into the world. While it sounds painful, let’s be honest: a broken tailbone is just another discomfort amidst the chaos of childbirth. It certainly makes for a memorable story.
When I first became a mother, self-doubt consumed me. I recall feeling so uncertain about changing my newborn’s diaper that I repeatedly sought help for far longer than I’d like to admit. I can’t be angry at that version of myself; she was simply figuring things out. But it was clear she needed to grow up.
And grow up I did, thanks to the universe handing me a particularly challenging firstborn. The experience pushed me beyond my comfort zone, compelling me to trust my instincts rather than conform to outside opinions.
I learned that my mother’s wisdom, while invaluable during my upbringing, doesn’t automatically apply to my parenting journey. As time passed, I recognized that I had to forge my own path. It doesn’t matter what others think of my parenting style or my child’s personality. They are mine to nurture, to make mistakes with, and to raise into capable individuals—no one else’s.
I eventually stopped apologizing—for the state of my home, the meals I did or didn’t prepare, my appearance, or even my son’s spirited nature. One day, I simply ran out of concerns about what others thought. I realized that part of growing up is embracing who you are and recognizing your own worth.
In parenting my strong-willed son, I found a resilience I didn’t know I possessed. Every belief I held was challenged, and I had to discard the parenting advice I had previously absorbed. No longer was I a fragile flower; I could carry a 60-pound child out of a store if necessary, and he knew it. Over time, I discovered a strength within myself that surprised me.
I came to understand that I am a capable mother. It took time, but eventually, I recognized that I hadn’t completely failed with this complex child. Despite the challenges, I have done a commendable job. There are still difficult days, but I no longer second-guess my decisions. My newfound confidence stems from everything I’ve learned along the way.
That strong-willed boy, who has given me more gray hairs than I care to count in such a short time, has profoundly shaped who I am. He taught me to mature. And thanks to him, I also have a unique way of predicting rain, courtesy of my aching tailbone.
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In summary, raising a strong-willed child has been a transformative journey, pushing me to embrace my inner strength, question old beliefs, and grow into the confident parent I am today.