On Being a Parent

I admit that I have been naive about parenting from the get-go. For some reason I thought babies stopped crying when they reached the 3 month mark. (That was akin to thinking that nausea stopped after the first 3 months of pregnancy). That was just the first of many things I thought I knew, and after 41 years, I’m still learning.

Aside from the millions of things I learned about parenting during the kids’ growing-up years, my next big educational moment came when they left for college. I expected to miss them, and I did. I didn’t expect to have to still discipline them, but an episode of driving (a very short distance, admittedly) after having too much to drink prompted the removal of car privileges at night for part of one summer.

On the other hand, there were plenty of demonstrations of adulthood at that point, such as barring me from attending appointments at the cardiologist, and finding jobs, roommates and places to live. These latter things I took for granted, something that parents of college graduates in recent years have not been able to do.

Thinking the kids safely launched, I believed my active parenting days were over. Oh sure, the phone still rang asking for a recipe or advice on cooking a turkey. Sometimes there were questions about a (grand)child’s developmental stage. When marriage difficulties occurred and a divorce ensued, my parenting became more active again.

Over the years, I have tried, and definitely not always successfully, to keep my mouth shut unless asked; to help think through the pros and cons of a situation; to be involved but not interfering and to be there to offer support, no matter what situation arose. Occasionally I have been able to offer financial support, usually in the form of a loan.

Nothing has reminded me more of my status as a continuing parent, than my daughter’s second pregnancy. I would rather be going through pregnancy again myself, than to witness her struggle in the last few weeks, particularly, when hip pain has become acute, labor pains have come and gone, worrisome data came out of one ultrasound (proved later to be unfounded), and in general, life has become much harder for her.

I am so delighted to be able to help out, and wish there was more I could do. She is now 5 days past her due date, and completely sleep deprived. She can barely walk, and bravely soldiers on. I can’t decide whether it’s harder to be at her house to witness all of it first hand, or harder to be at my house, not helping. Regardless of my location, I worry and lie awake myself in the wee hours. And I guess that trait will mark me for life as a parent. Or anyway as a mom.