From the moment I discovered my first pregnancy, I wanted everything to be perfect. It was my duty as a parent to make all the right choices. Life set about to prove me wrong. When I had my first child there was a commercial on TV for flashcards that would ensure that your infant learned better and faster than the poor child could do on his own. I was in a panic that I could not afford these miracle cards. I was denying my child the possibility to be his best; to be perfect.

Eventually, I accepted that I was not going to be able to provide every gadget and opportunity that was out there for my child. But I continued to think that there was a perfect way to parent. I just had to gather all the information, and make the right decisions. It was frustrating when I could not control all the variables of life. I wanted to give him a loving and stable environment. While I could give him more love than I thought one person could ever feel, I could not change the fact that the odds were against his teenage parents. I could give him the stability of being there to attend to his every need, or work to provide the necessities of daily life, but I could not give him both. When I would leave him crying at the sitters, I would close the door and I’d cry, too. I never wanted to tell him no when he let me know that he needed me. The best I could do was show him that I would be back for him; I would always be a constant in his life. Each of these lessons I learned was painful. It seemed so unfair that I could not control everything that happened in my child’s life. I felt helpless that I could not protect him from the world at all times. I had to learn to adapt, be creative, and make the most out of what life handed us. Whatever situation came up, we got through it together. I wish someone could have told me that it was not about being perfect every moment of life. I had to learn for myself that “life” was going through it together.

Twenty-two years later, my oldest son explained to me that everything needed to be perfect for his first child, who was due later that year. I told him, “Honey, I felt that way with you.” Then his cell phone went dead. I decided it was for the best; what could I possibly tell him? You won’t be perfect, your child won’t be perfect, and life won’t be perfect. And that is okay. Because every struggle you get through will build your relationship. Every obstacle you overcome will make you and your child stronger, better and faster. All of these insightful words will fall upon the deaf ears of a new parent, who cannot imagine his baby being less than perfect, or providing a less than perfect world for his baby.