It was ten years ago today. We had taken the birthing classes and prepared extensively for this moment- we had a birth plan!
We were ready to execute that plan with precision.
It did not go according to our plan.
I had been in labor all day and suddenly your heart rate was dropping. The doctor told us you had to come out immediately, via C-section. Like we were taught in those classes, we asked if we could have a few more minutes to see if the situation would resolve on its own.
A C-section was not listed on our plan as “method of delivery.”
“No, we don’t even have five minutes,” the doctor replied.
Dad was tossed a gown and told to change.
I was wheeled down the hall and they began to prepare me for surgery.
Twelve minutes later, you were here, crying in daddy’s arms.
With a rush of emergent fury and immediacy you entered this world, eyes wide open, ready to take in everything around you.
I was shaking and exhausted, my body completely spent from the labor and delivery.
This was not listed on our plan as “first moments with my newborn baby.”
This was only the first hint that I was unprepared for how life would unfold over the next ten years—that my plan for “what life will be like parenting my son” was absolute rubbish.
I have a solid education, a bachelor’s degree and two masters, but I have learned more from a decade of parenting than from any classroom. I have come to understand that nothing truly goes according to plan.
So here are my 10 truths from 10 years of (ADHD) parenting.
- Being a parent is not what I expected it to be. It’s not better; it’s not worse; it’s just different. I was wholly unprepared to be responsible for the life of a little human being. Not because I wasn’t a responsible person, but because I expected your needs to be different than they were. Before you could even speak, you showed me that I needed to stop listening to everyone else and start listening to you. I had to throw out any preconceived notions about child rearing and increase my flexibility immediately. It was my first lesson is giving up control, and man was it an uncomfortable lesson to learn.
- I am fiercer than I ever gave myself credit for. No one who knew me before having children would have said I was meek or passive. I have always been a tough, resilient woman. However, before having children, all I had to do was be strong for myself. Until you have to fight for your child’s needs, you have no idea what strength lies inside of you or what you are truly capable of. Since becoming a parent, I am the fiercest, most formidable version of myself. I proudly don my supermom cape and get the job done and I am not ashamed to use my super powers if someone tries to stand in our way.
- I can be your guide, but ultimately you will walk your own path. As a parent, it’s my job to protect you, to pick you up and dust you off and make it all better. I need to teach you and provide you with the basic tools you need to survive in this world. But my role stops there. I cannot live your life for you, nor can I live my life for you. There will be times that despite being shown the proper way to do something, you will choose to do it differently. There will be consequences to that choice. I will always be there, walking a few steps behind you to help you learn from those consequences, but you must bear the brunt of what life has to offer on your own. I have to stand back sometimes and allow you to fail. It will make you a stronger, more independent and resilient adult.
- I can never question my choices. There are SO many decisions that have to be made when raising a child. From the simple—say, bedtime, to the more complex, like putting your child on medication. The gravity of many of these decisions weighs heavily on parents. It’s so easy to go down that rabbit hole and look back and question each and every decision that was ever made, and to imagine a different path that could have been traveled had that choice been altered. I constantly remind myself that decisions were made with the information that I had at that time and that they were ALWAYS made with the very best intentions. As a parent, it’s the best we can hope for.
- I am not always going to like your choices. You are your own little person, not an extension of me or your dad. You have a mind of your own and you push to make your own choices. I might not agree with some of these choices, but I don’t have to. Teaching you that you are strong enough to trust your instincts, and even if those instincts are wrong, and that you can be brave enough to take a chance, is most important.
- It’s easy to point out your mistakes, but I make mistakes too. Every. Damn. Day! I yell at you and your sister and silently scold myself for not keeping it together. I forget your appointments, send you to school without all of your materials, and forget your favorite foods from the supermarket. You are not the only one who makes mistakes. I do too and admitting them, taking accountability for my actions, and then saying I’m sorry, is the best lesson I can teach you about the mistakes you will inevitably continue to make.
- I do not always like you, but I always love you. There is nothing more to say about this fact.
- I doesn’t get easier; it just gets different. I used to have this notion that as you grew things would be easier. You wouldn’t be completely reliant on me for your every need. You would be able to bathe and dress yourself, wipe your own ass, feed yourself, etc. You wouldn’t be such an overwhelming force of nature. This proved to be a false narrative. With every passing year it remained difficult; it just morphed into a new kind of difficult. Today we navigate the challenges of academia, socializing, managing screen time, and tomorrow, we will have to navigate something else. The job has become less of providing for your basic needs of being clean, fed, and sheltered, and now to foster a sense of self-love, self-worth and independence.
- I’m never going to feel fully prepared to parent. Sometimes we are walking down the street as a family and it’s the same street daddy and I had walked down when we were young and carefree. We are having some conversation or I’m managing some argument between you and your sister and I have an almost surreal moment where I step outside of myself and see me from the outside. I think, “When did I become the teacher, the mediator, and the one responsible for making these tough decisions? When did I become mature enough to be in charge of the lives and well-being of other little humans?” It feels like just yesterday I was single in NYC. Time has passed so quickly that sometimes it feels like no time has passed at all.
- I get the most pleasure in life from being your mom. In the best and the worst times, your smile, snuggles, words, tears, triumphs, and failures reaffirm one of my main joys in life—being a mom. And as your mom, I will forever enjoy embarrassing you in public, because I grew you, I birthed you, and it’s my God-given right!
Happy Birthday, Man! Here’s to ripping up the plan and learning 20 more things in the next decade as your mom.