As a mother of three—an 11-year-old, a 14-year-old, and a 15-year-old—I take pride in my parenting journey. I strive to be consistent and confident, even though I know I have my flaws. These imperfections provide me with chances to learn and adapt to meet the unique needs of each of my children. Like so many mothers, my role is to be the parent that my kids need, but I am also just human. I care deeply, love fiercely, and wear my emotions openly.
My eldest, my 15-year-old, the one who first taught me what it meant to love deeply, unexpectedly broke my heart. I believe it was never her intention, although in the heat of the moment, it was hard for me to think rationally. Around the age of 13, she started to distance herself from me, becoming indifferent and passive. It felt like my words and actions no longer mattered to her. While she never explicitly said it, her behavior communicated volumes.
Friends with similar experiences reassured me that this phase was typical and that she would eventually reconnect. I had done my research and understood that the teenage years could be challenging. I never anticipated her to shower me with affection like she did when she was younger, but this felt different. This was a daily dismissal that made me feel invisible.
My husband often reminded me not to take it personally, but I found it difficult. I knew I needed to be the steady one, but despite my best efforts, I struggled. For 18 months, I carried a heavy heart while pretending everything was fine. I continued to drive her to volleyball practices, high school games, and social events, carefully navigating our interactions to avoid pushing her further away. At times, I even had to pump myself up before addressing her about responsibilities. It felt absurd, terrifying, and lonely—especially for someone who usually feels confident in her parenting. I felt not just flawed, but inadequate, as if I were failing as a person.
One night, after picking up my kids from their activities, my daughter said something that struck me—though I can’t recall the exact words, it shattered me. I couldn’t contain my emotions and broke down in front of her. Despite her watching me passively, I expressed my unwavering love and commitment to support her, regardless of how she felt about me. I assured her that I would always be present for her, cheering her on at every game and volunteering to help at school. I sobbed and told her that my heart had been aching for a long time, but my love for her would never waver.
My son, witnessing the moment, shouted at her, “I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WERE KILLING HER!” His words pierced through the tension and made me cry even harder. Afterward, my daughter quietly retreated to her room, leaving me feeling emotionally spent.
The next morning, she came into my room and lay down beside me, scrolling on her phone in silence. That moment marked the beginning of a new chapter in our relationship. I had to consciously let my guard down as she began to engage with me again. I wanted her to know I was open and ready for her. Breaking down those walls was necessary, and thankfully, it didn’t take long for both of us to embrace this change.
Looking back, 2020 was a year that many would prefer to forget. However, for me, it was the year I reconnected with my daughter. As the world slowed down, we found ourselves spending quality time together, which allowed us to heal as a family.
If you’re going through something similar, hang in there, mama. Stay consistent and confident. Remember, your heart may feel broken, but it doesn’t define your worth as a parent.
For more insights on parenting and family dynamics, check out this blog post for additional perspective.
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