Illustration by Catherine Chan
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No matter what you say or how you parent, you’re inevitably doomed by one parenting camp or another. I find myself mildly amused by the debates: breast is best versus fed is best, co-sleeping versus self-soothing, iPads for toddlers versus no screens ever, gentle parenting versus old-school discipline. Add in parenting styles labelled free-range, attachment, tiger, helicopter and lawnmower and it’s clear that parents are being judged like there’s some kind of Academy Award when a child turns 18.
You might think I’m about to go off on modern day parenthood. I’m not. When you love a child, you try to do right by them. You research everything. You compare notes with friends. You try to find your groove as a parent while wading through the endless tips on how not to screw up your kid.
Before anyone starts feeling self-righteous about how much better it was “back in the day,” let’s be honest. If your own mother had social media, your sweet little face would have probably been plastered all over Instagram, too. I don’t have an opinion on which generation of parents got it right, maybe because I had a second chance to figure it out after making my fair share of mistakes. I learned the hard way how easy it is to let other people’s opinions (even family) shape how you see yourself as a parent.
My oldest and youngest daughters are 17 years apart, with the child in between 13 years older than the baby. I was just shy of my 44th birthday when my youngest was born and while age brings a few wrinkles and grey hair, it also brings something invaluable: perspective.
I was never supposed to have another child. I believed the breast cancer treatment I underwent at the age of 36 had left me infertile. Despite a high-risk pregnancy, I gave birth to a beautiful little miracle without any complications. From the minute our eyes met, I knew things would be different.
Seventeen years earlier, holding my first-born daughter in that same hospital, I was a bundle of insecurity and fear. I was also a motherless daughter. My own mother had died of cancer when I was a teenager and without her gentle, guiding hand, I was filled with self-doubt, desperate to do everything right.
“Should you still be breastfeeding?”
“She’s too old for a soother.”
“Oh, you’re not going back to work?”
“You let her eat that?”
I still wonder why people find it acceptable to offer unsolicited advice and, as a young mother, I let those comments chip away at my self-confidence.
Years later, during a day at the mall with my miracle baby, I stopped by the play area to feed her. I felt the eyes of two breastfeeding moms on me as I mixed a bottle of formula. A mastectomy had left me unable to breastfeed this time around and I braced myself for the “breast is best” comment. Sure enough, it came after what had been a lovely conversation. This time, I wasn’t offended nor did I feel the need to explain or justify my decision. I just smiled and kept feeding my baby.
That’s the gift of perspective. Age and experience taught me to trust my own choices without justifying why I made them.
Parents try to make decisions in the best interest of their child and, in the end, it’s none of our collective business. If anyone has written a handbook on how to guarantee a perfect child, please publish it, you’ll make more money than Jeff Bezos.
Here are a few things this Gen Xer has learned after parenting a millennial, a Gen Z and now a Gen Alpha. Things have changed dramatically over the years, but a few things have held up for me:
Teach them to contribute – to their family, their school, their community, their workplace and the planet.
Be the example – teach them not to judge by refusing to judge others.
Support them as they discover their own passions, not yours. If you’ve ever sat in a hockey rink with other parents, you’ll understand this one.
Show them there is courage in walking away from something that isn’t working.
Be fully present. There was no scrolling on a smartphone back in 1996, and today living in the moment is harder than it should be.
Hold the line where it matters. Boundaries, especially around social media, exist for a reason.
And unconditionally love the hell out of them. It’s the only thing I’d do exactly the same.
Krystal Stokes lives in Winnipeg.