Parenting from the Front Lines

Out to dinner last night with friends we hadn't seen in far too long, it became abundantly clear that parenting for our foursome has not been a cakewalk.  My husband's and my journey has been objectively more fraught, but each of us carried the weight of the various challenges our children have, and of how we have handled--or perhaps even mishandled--them.

I was struck as well by the things I pointedly don't envy, in this case the child studying computer science at the premier institution on the West Coast, a place apparently so consumed with rivalry that in order to get into a dorm of one's choice, an essay explaining why it's the best fit for you is required.  Honestly, that would have me ripping out my hair.  And thinking that no snazzy degree is worth that kind of stupidity.  But I digress...

Peppered with questions by my friend about a choice we're thinking to embark on vis a vis one of our kids, I was struck by how I've married the questions I've asked of the program's intake coordinator with a heaping dose of faith and hope.  In other words, there are questions I haven't asked, and some I'm not sure I want to ask, because if the answers aren't bullseye satisfactory, then what?  Do we walk away from this option?  Do we continue to search, hoping to find the thing that I know for sure doesn't exist, viz., a program that meets all of the criteria I might hope for, perfectly, with guaranteed outcomes, a non-bankrupting fee structure, lifetime support and follow up, etc. etc?

It's funny being a parent of a certain age and looking around and realizing how the truly hard work of parenting is maybe only just beginning.  A friend of long ago once shared wisdom some of her older friends had shared with her:  bigger kids, bigger issues.  Maybe when your kids are young you fret over sleeping habits, toileting, and the like.  As you get older, you worry about sex, drugs, driving a car, and all the many dangers that confront kids as they get older and go farther out into the world.  You worry about hurts that won't heal just with a bandaid and a kiss from mom.  You worry about scars you cannot see, about the ways in which the complexity and cruelty of this world mark the children you love, perhaps for life.  And you try, try, try to find a way forward that remedies some of that, or even reverses it where possible.

I have zero confidence that my husband and I will do everything right.  Because we haven't up until now.  But we have done one thing above all right, and it became clear to me when, in the office of a new psychiatrist recently, we were asked in amazement if we'd really never been to couples therapy.  "No," we explained, "we haven't been."  "That's incredible," came the reply, "given all you've had to deal with."  "Maybe, but we've been well aware all these years that if we didn't pull together, we would surely pull apart."  And maybe, in the end, that's the one thing that matters most, that the two of us are trying out hardest to help our kids have the present and the future they want and deserve.  Maybe we'll help them get there, maybe we'll fail.  But it won't be because we didn't pour every ounce of love we have into trying.  And if that isn't enough, I'll be damned if I know what is.