Parenting ourselves

One of the losses we have when we can’t have children is knowing what kind of parents we would have been. What we might have copied from our own parents, and what we would have done differently. Perhaps importantly, we want to have a chance to think about what our own parents did, what we wish they did instead, and how we might have adjusted that for our own kids, had we had any.

Yes, there are many experiences and knowledge that I wanted to pass on to my children. Good memories that I would love to recreate. And of course, no parents are perfect. I wish my parents had done some things differently. But I have been able to recognise how hard they tried, and how they did the best they could at the time, with the knowledge they had at the time. Looking at their lives this way gives me a lot of peace, and allows me to appreciate the many positives of my childhood, and my relationship with them.

So personally, I wouldn’t take any comfort in thinking about what I wish they had done differently, or how I might have done it instead. It's a recipe for pain. However, when I think about it, I realise that I could change this for myself now anyway. Or that I have already done so. I’m not a child any longer. I can change the way I think. Reflection, forced on me by loss and change, has enabled me to - in some ways - parent myself, and learn a little along the way:

• I’ve learned that just as I’m not my failures, I’m not my achievements either.
• I’ve learned that judgement can often come from low self-esteem, and at the same time that I fight against doing this myself, I can more easily forgive it in others.
• I’ve learned that I can stand up for myself. That sometimes I need to, and that’s okay to do. That we can be tactful and forthright at the same time. It’s the biggest change from the way I was brought up.
• And best of all, I’ve learned that not standing up for myself/speaking up, has nothing to do with my self-worth. That I want to fight some battles some days, and on other days, I’d just rather not. I’ve learned to know the difference. And I have given myself permission to do whatever feels right at the time. It has been liberating.
• I’ve learned that I am proud of my values.
• I’ve also learned that I can be proud of pushing myself, and that it is worth testing my instincts. But that I don’t have to push myself every single time, either. That my feelings matter.
• I’ve learned that while I appreciate a community spirit, I also commend individuality and difference. Actually, I’ve always admired that. But now I know that the two are possible at the same time.
• And I’ve learned that “do they/you have a family?” is the question asked by someone who grew up in the 30s and 40s, who had their children in the 50s and 60s, and who lived in a time and place when women’s families were their careers, and the only careers they would ever have. I learned that they don’t mean to judge or condescend by asking the question, but that they see the world differently from those of us born in later decades. And I’ve learned to accept that.