I Love You No Matter What?

I Love You No Matter What?

When I was growing up, a few things about the "good enough" parent probably wouldn't go over as such today. Something that stands out for me is the stories I heard from my mother about children coming out to their parents about their sexuality.

I remember knowing that my mother felt sorry for these parents. And I remember a particular moment during which she expressed that, of course, they loved their children "no matter what."

What’s the “what” in no matter what? What is the “matter”?

Hearing those words and feeling her sentiments fascilitated a shift in my awareness of the enormous so-called responsibility we children, ironically, have for our parents' well-being. It's something children know and act upon very early on. But there is also an evolution of that awareness. And it made me start to wonder what parts of me would be something my mother might have to merely "accept."

What did parents consider a “matter” when I was growing up? And how can we ensure we continue to develop awareness relating to every single aspect of being a human? The truth about emotions - yup, we all have strong ones. The truth about their origin - yup, they didn’t develop out of thin air. The truth about sexuality - yup, it’s beautifully individual.

I think it was that moment that unconsciously prepared me to be the mother of a daughter on the autistic spectrum. The conversation helped the future me connect with my future first child, now a thriving young adult. It stimulated the sensitivity I need as a mom to help my daughters know and feel that exactly who they are is exactly who I love.

Parents seem to have expectations when we set out on our journey to start a family. We have needs we are seeking to meet—organic and deep-seated needs. We bring people into the world to enhance our existence and human experience. Our hearts expand, and we also become more vulnerable. We feel more pain - specifically. theirs. And we will experience personal forms of pain specific to the parenting experience.

So I'd like to return to the topic of sexuality. Children can feel that who they are or what they are exploring may disappoint those who chose to bring them into the world.

I supposed it’s fair to say that we have and are entitled to have feelings around the notion of sexuality, including when related to our children. All emotions are fair game.

What do we do with feelings, possibly based on our individual values system, that may interfere with how we embrace our children's uniqueness and individuality? Perhaps our values need modification. I'm hoping that we can all feel comfortable feeling uncomfortable when that's the case.

I'm wondering if we can also help create a pathway for our children to show up in some way and teach us more about what they need from us when we enter a space outside our comfort zone. I'm wondering if we can all catch ourselves when we make statements of judgement that may signal to our children that their parents will have to "come to terms" with an authentic, essential part of them.

I'm grateful that there are so many parents today who respond to their children's openness to the tune of "I'm so genuinely happy you know, or are discovering, who you are and what makes you happy. What's more, I'm jumping for joy that you're sharing that with me. And I am always here for you to discuss anything that's on your mind and in your heart."

Our instinct as parents is to be protective. And many of our responses to our children have everything to do with us wanting desperately to keep them safe and happy. I hate how impossible that has proven to be. It’s impossible to protect them from their own thoughts muchless to ensure their wonderful beings are cherished by the world around them.

I hate that I don't have 100% control over my children's safety and happiness every moment of every day. And often, our gut reaction to the twists and turns of our children's lives is as simple as "Uh oh" as our concern for them rises and we feel helpless and non-instrumental.

As I'm writing this I'm feeling particularly helpless and noninstrumental. I have a second daughter in (mandatory) basic training on weekend patrol duty at her army base. It wasn't her choice, and it was out of my hands. She sounds miserable (but will absolutely be fine and I know that) and all I can do about that is nothing.

I'm thinking out loud here and trying to comfort myself by telling myself that (at least) I've sent her off into her world with a gift I've been cultivating every day since she was born—the gift of knowing that I know and I celebrate the individual that she is. The first message I love to pass on to parents is to “love the shit out of your kids.” I think I have my well-meaning mother-from-the-previous-century to thank for making that a priority of mine.