D turns 10!

D turns 10 tomorrow.

I can't believe it's been a decade since he came into this world, a wee little bundle of gentle joy.

To say that it has been a journey is an understatement.

It fails to capture just how much being a parent compels us to look straight into the eye of all the falsehoods we had been believing in and letting guide run our lives,

forces us to make a decision to show up again and again, every single day,
with all our frailties and all our human limitations,
with our boundless desires and ambitions for ourselves and our loved ones,
and the crushing knowledge that they may or may not come true despite our best intentions and efforts,

and teaches us to hold the wildly contrasting aspects of life with a kind of compassion and courage we didn't know we could summon from within us.

Ten years ago, I embarked upon the journey of conscious parenting, keenly aware of the ways my ego could impose itself on my child's life.

Today, through all my attempts and many failures and many successes of being a conscious parent, I find I'm a little wiser and more accepting of life as it unfolds for me, for KrA and for D.

Because, you see,

~ despite my best intentions, I have no way of ensuring that D would make 'wise' choices in his life.

~ despite all the times I've shown great patience and attempted to preserve his sense of agency, there's no way to guarantee that he wouldn't jettison his free will to, say, fit in or be accepted or to not stand out too much and draw attention to himself or for any other impulsive youthful reason that may make sense to him at that point in time.

~ despite giving him my full support and confidence, there is simply no way for me to ensure that he'd never suffer from self-doubt or self-loathing or prejudice and bias towards himself or anyone else.

And that's OK.

For the first time in all these years that D has been in my life, I'm able to accept that his life will unfold in unexpected ways, and that's OK.

Until now, I thought that I had to do certain things to ensure D would have a good future. And that a less-than-stellar future for him would obviously imply some massive failing on my part in his childhood.

If you think about it, when we're constantly bombarded with messages such as — kids are anxious these days because they are addicted to their screens and do not get enough outdoor time or time in nature or they don't get to run wild and free alongside other kids in their early days — then we begin to believe that the converse must be true.

That if I strictly monitor screen time and schedule many playdates and outdoor time and time in nature, then my child would not become a victim of the anxiety epidemic that has supposedly gripped the current generation.

That if he does become anxious in the coming years, then it must mean that I did not do my part to ensure that he has enough playdates, outdoor time, time in nature, screen-free time, etc. etc.

For the first time in all these years that D has been in my life, I'm able to accept that I can do all these things and more for D and he could still become glued to the screen the instant he leaves home for university or choose to spend his evenings in front of the TV as an adult instead of stepping out for a walk in nature.

And that's OK.

For the first time in all these years that D has been in my life, I'm able to accept that breaking generational trauma is not meant to happen within a single generation.

Every generation of parents has its own defining characteristics. The current generation of parents of young kids has been taking great pride in doing the inner work to heal the wounded inner child and not pass on generational trauma to our children.

This work is insanely difficult. And I think, in some misguided way, it makes us feel superior to our parents' and grandparents' generations who were guided by the spare-the-rod-spoil-the-child culture.

But the longer I am a parent, the humbler I'm compelled to be. I have so many resources at my fingertips to consult or turn to every time I worry about something. Imagine having to parent without access to resources on the Internet, without Dr. Google, without WhatsApp chats and FaceTime calls with faraway relatives.

No parent is perfect. No child, no human being, can be truly trauma-free. Even if the parents were to somehow miraculously achieve the impossible feat of raising trauma-free children, the outside world is waiting to unleash its barrage of cultural myths and biases. There's no escaping it.

And that's OK.

How little influence I truly have on D's life.

Yet, I will continue to do my best for him as a parent because that is something worth doing. Not in the hopes of any favourable future outcome, but because in this present moment, my life and the people in it are sacred and worthy of my attention, presence and affection.

And, I've also come to trust that life presents us with situations for our growth and evolution.

Most often, there is nothing to be fixed. I'm only called to witness and accompany D's journey for as long as he allows me the privilege to.

These past few months have already given me a glimpse of what lies in store. An unrequited crush, a friendship falling apart, not getting a preferred choice in a selection ... the usual heartaches of life.

Alongside the joys of accomplishment, the struggle of endeavour and the delight of achieving something at the end of it, the simple beauty of relaxing and recharging on a day off or on a weekend ... the simple delights of life.

In D's journey, I can't ease his pain. Nor can I determine his boundaries for him. I can't determine what upsets him or what he finds offensive or what holds his interest or what makes him turn away from someone or towards another.

What I can do is be a willing listener when he wishes to share something, accept his predicaments and feelings without judgement, and merely rejoice in this gift of time with him that I've been given.

To be with a kind, loving child such as D is truly a blessing. A privilege.

Even if on some days I feel too tired to jump into the waves with him and splash about, I can still sit by the shore and watch him play and delight in his happiness. And trust that that's OK too.

Happy birthday, darling D! You are truly a miracle. I'm so grateful you are in my life. 🥳 🎉