what we owe our children

everything, really

I didn’t ask to be born

My daughter said to this to me when we were in the thick of argument. She was twelve. It took me by surprise, made me stop mid-yell, and I walked out of the room, into the kitchen, made myself a drink and began the long process of trying to make sense of things.

I didn’t ask to be born

Was she not happy, or was she just not happy being my daughter? I brought my drink into the living room, sat down on the couch, and spent most of that night contemplating the fact that my daughter had spoken an undisputed truth: she did not ask to be here. She did not sign up for this. I put her here, I conceived of her before I conceived her; I practically willed her into existence. I wanted a child. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted a daughter. And then she was. Three years later, my son was born. I brought forth two children, children who had no say in the matter of being spit out into a somewhat angry world. Twelve years into this parenting thing and my daughter managed to throw me into an existential crisis with six small words.

That phrase made me see parenting in a different light. I thought about what we owe our children, how it falls on us to guide them through the world we brought them into, how it is our responsibility to make sure they have the emotional skills needed to get through life, how we can shape them but that shape must be loose and pliable so they can mold themselves.

I’ve seen people refer to deep conversations with their children as doing “emotional labor” for their part. Labor is transactional; loving and nurturing your child is not. Saying that you are performing emotional labor makes it sound like a chore, an unwanted task. We owe it to our kids to be there for them when life is hard, and it’s forever going to be hard. We owe it to them to offer a shoulder, an ear, some guidance and love whenever they need it, not just when it’s convenient for us. We owe them kindness and empathy and thoughtfulness, things that will help them navigate their own emotions.

We owe it to them to not let them down when they need us. When they come to you at 13 to tell you they were rejected by a clique at school. When they’re 16 and experiencing their first heartbreak. When they’re 24 and far from home and they’re feeling depressed. When they’re 30 and are terrified about a career change. When they have their own kids and call you for advice. It is our responsibility to be there for them each time, to lend support, to offer suggestions with kindness, to help them help themselves find a solution.

I didn’t ask to be born

I have never stopped thinking about that, about the idea we are the ones who signed up for parenthood. They didn’t sign up for anything. To bring them into your world and leave them hanging later because you don’t have the capacity to do emotional labor is to fail your child.

We do so much for our kids. We put band-aids on cuts and soothe hurt feelings. We strap them into secure car seats, we teach them how to cross the street, we feed them and clothe them and teach them how to drive. But the most important thing we can do for them is be there. Be a rock. Be a stable, safe place. You don’t have to be the only person they confide in, but your confidence is most important, because it comes unconditionally.

The least we can do is the most we can do for those we brought into the world - be there for them. We owe them that.