Our firstborn is going to high school next academic year, and that woke up all kinds of emotional distress during his last days of middle school. How is it possible that the first baby I held after delivery is already his own, very tall person? It doesn’t seem real, it doesn’t seem fair to be moving at this pace. Part of it is making me dread the time to come when he’ll be out of the house and onto his own life, his very own life without his parents by his side, without his mami to be there and help him make his way. I know, that escalated quickly, is it normal to see his possible future flash before your eyes the moment they seem more independent than you’d like? I still remember almost two years ago when I couldn’t reach for something on the top kitchen cabinet and I asked for his help. Almost immediately, I felt so much nostalgia for the baby who grew up and now was helping mami to reach for stuff. Ay ay ay mi niño ya creció.
The Parenting Heritage
As mothers, our first child gets to see us at our rawest, maybe somewhat filtered and studied, but in reality, bien verdes in terms of real parenting experience. I feel terrible thinking of the common phrase “echando a perder se aprende” (messing up is how it’s learned), because one of my fears is the trauma that I may pass on or cause to our kids negatively impacting their development and future. And I’m sure there was some here and there because honestly, I didn’t know any better, but always trying to improve and inform myself. I admire those who make it a point to truly work through themselves before thinking of starting a family. I never saw that when I was little, didn’t even know it was a thing, but mental health is hardly acknowledged in our culture. The expected path of life for Latinos is to grow up, marry, and start a family, especially for girls. Nobody really tells us the best way to get to a family is to address our baggage first, to truly know ourselves before bringing someone else into our lives, let alone to start parenting someone. Seems pretty reckless the more I think about it. But here we are, parenting three kids in my mid-thirties.
Having our first kid in my early twenties was an accelerated path to coming to terms with the idea I had of myself versus who I was at that point, the parts of me that had never been explored because they didn’t fit the perfect image de hija bien portada. Seeing many of my fears projected onto my toddler was a tough pill to swallow, so scary, but at the same time somewhat healing, because it just made sense. Realizing that I would do anything to improve as a mother, as I’m sure my parents did and generations to come will continue to do. The truth is, our son comes from generations of firstborn children; both of his parents were the first child in our families, and so were their abuelas on both sides. Insert all stereotypes of the oldest sibling, because they feel true.
However, modern research contradicts previous beliefs associated with sibling born order, as Erin Blakemore points out in her National Geographic article, es mas divertido to fall into the stereotypes and use them on our siblings. I’m always fascinated by the dynamics within families, extended family, and the personalities that come within each family unit, how they tend to align amongst themselves, and those who stand out as the odd one out for not following “the norm.” There is a beautiful spectrum and lived experiences that shape us all, even when sharing the same parents.
There is Nothing Wrong with Breaking the Wheel
There are so many ways of mothering, I’ve learned that it depends on the information I have at that moment and what I push myself to practice. Otherwise, I revert to the voices in my head from years of hearing the community around me parenting young kids. There might be times, in the most difficult situations, where we can’t have the luxury to chose which one to follow because we might be on autopilot. But like with anything, nothing is permanent and there is always a chance to switch it up for what works best. At least I did, and continue to do because, of course, once you figure out one kid, the next one comes with a whole different set of marbles. Let’s not get me started with the middle child and the lessons that were unlocked there. ¡Ay Dios mío! Motherhood es una aventura, and there isn’t one way to ride it so do it as best as you can, mija. We’re all doing our best here, but as I said before, our best might look different every time.
