Trusting Your Instincts as a Parent
When my first child was born, I ran around frantically with a baby in one hand and a baby book–or two or three or four–in the other. Even though I had helped raise younger siblings, had been a busy babysitter and had worked as a nanny, I was determined to do everything perfectly when I had a child of my very own. One day, when my baby refused to respond as the baby book assured me she would, I telephoned my mother in despair. My mother admirably restrained her laughter as she said gently, "Perhaps she hasn't read the book yet."
The message was clear. Baby books were written for generic babies, and my daughter, as I would learn again and again, was not a generic child. She had her own distinct personality, formed before she came to this earth, and she would not then, as she would not later in life, conform to any preconceived notion of how she "ought" to behave. But the baby book said that things must be done a certain way in order to achieve the desired results, and I kept right on trying to mold this stubborn, unique child into the pattern the books chose. It was not until my second child was born four years later that I figured out what my mother had tried to teach me.
When this child was five months old, she was diagnosed as having cerebral palsy. I went home and sat in my rocking chair, rocking the baby and grieving. At this time, the doctors, who would later be proved wrong, believed she might never walk or talk. One day I went to the book case and chose a treasured parenting book from the crowded shelf. I flipped it open to the charts, which confidently promised that she would sit up, crawl, walk and talk all at a preset moment. Fury exploded the numbness I had felt for many days and I threw the book across the room. This book could not teach me about my child. The charts and graphs and instructions weren't meant for her. Resolutely, I gathered up the baby books and threw them all out, keeping only two. One was by Fred Rogers (Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood), because it had no graphs and no promises, and it had several chapters offering hope to parents of children with special needs. The book was about parenting from the heart, and meant to teach us to believe in ourselves.
The message I learned from that day forward was to raise my own child. Books, classes and articles can give me ideas, but they should only be ideas. Once I've gathered possibilities, I need to search my own heart and discover what's right for me. What matches my own values, my own goals, and my own instincts? What is my heart telling me? What is the spirit whispering when I pray for guidance?
Each child is unique and must be raised as one who is unique. Mr. Rogers tells parents, "If the day ever came when we were able to accept ourselves and our children exactly as we and they are, then, I believe, we would have come very close to an ultimate understanding of what 'good' parenting means. It's part of being human to fall short of that total acceptance–and often far short. But one of the most important gifts a parent can give a child is the gift of that child's uniqueness."
One child will need to be held close when life's challenges hurt. Another will want to jump up and fight his way through it. We have to watch our children, know who they are, and understand what they need from us. If we can help them to find who their Father in Heaven knows they are, and to become that person, we will have given them the best we have to offer.