There’s a moment that sticks with me from one of my therapy sessions. I was deep in conversation unraveling worries about one child, then my father’s illness and on top of that; grandchildren and being a caregiver when I had barely anything left to give— when my therapist gently asked:
“Have you ever noticed we rarely talk about your youngest daughter?”
I paused and became speechless. She gave me a moment, but then said,
“It’s because you’ve let her figure the majority of things out for herself.”
That sentence landed hard; in a good way. It was one of those moments where the truth feels like both a compliment and a little nudge to pay attention.
If you’ve ever listened to a podcast with Gabor Maté as the guest, you may remember this quote that has such profound truth. “Children rarely get the same parent, because we are not the same person with each child.”
It’s one of those lines that stops you in your tracks — because when you look back, you feel the truth of it in your bones. You see how your own evolution shaped the way you showed up for each child: where you were emotionally, what you were healing from (or avoiding), and how much of yourself you were able to give at different stages.
Anyhow, my therapist was right, with my youngest, I somehow managed to step back more. I didn’t parent from fear the way I did with my oldest. I didn’t have it in me anymore to grip so tightly to control. I’d love to say it was all because I’d matured or healed — and maybe I had a little, but part of it was also sheer capacity and the fact that her father and I were under one roof. It always helps to have that support at your fingertips. Keep in mind I wasn’t really in a position to parent my stepdaughter in that same hands-on way either. She split her time between homes and there’s a certain amount of surrender that comes with that arrangement. Which meant, for better or worse… my son got the brunt of my “fix-it” phase. Perhaps because he was the one who had no limits, no fear and daily calls from the school. Whatever it was with the youngest; I let her be who she wanted to be.
She’s always been the one who just kind of… got it. She reads the room. She reflects before reacting (most of the time lol). She rarely asks for help unless she’s truly stuck. And honestly? That’s been a gift or maybe its codependency showing up in her too.
Raising her was different, it was about trust. And before anyone rolls their eyes and says, “can you really trust a teenager at all?” The answer is yes, and it doesn’t mean they are perfect, or never caused you any worry at all. It’s about the kind of quiet confidence that lets you step back instead of hover and about believing that your child doesn’t need you to catch them every time because they’ve learned how to land on their own two feet.
Did I still micromanage, fix, or rush in to smooth every bump. Absolutely! I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I didn’t. I still hadn’t figured that step out yet, but she got a version of me that had learned a few lessons the hard way, a version that finally understood that love doesn’t always mean rescuing, sometimes it means standing back and watching in awe.
She is resourceful, grounded and quietly powerful. Not because she didn’t need me — but because I trusted when she did. Does she come to me with every bump in the road? YES! But here’s the thing, when she does, she’s already figured out how to handle it and she just needs me as an outlet. Maybe it’s something about raising girls as opposed to boys but both of my girls are the ones I don’t constantly worry about, not because they need me less, but because they trust themselves more.
And that’s the funny thing about growth. Sometimes, it doesn’t look like the loudest voice or the biggest struggle. Sometimes, it’s the child you rarely talk about — because she’s out there, living, learning, and finding her own way.
Don’t get me wrong — she still needs me and its for the simplest things now. Like:
- “How long does chicken take to cook again?”
- “Should I just door dash my Subway order?”
- “What is this pimple and how do I get rid of it by tomorrow?”
Parenting her is a reminder that less can be more. That being quietly available; not constantly interfering creates space for confidence to grow.
She may not be the one I talk about the most in therapy, but that doesn’t mean she matters any less. Sometimes the quietest growth is the most powerful, the kind that sneaks up on you and shows you who you became in the process. (Even if I still get a text that says “My sub order turned into a $35 bill so I’m just going to go pick it up myself.”)
She is capable, she trusts herself, and I trust her too.
That’s growth. Hers… and mine. 💛
The Other Side of Nice 
One response to “The one we don’t talk about (and that’s a good thing)”
You have done an amazing job with your kids. They have all become really successful young adults and I am positive it’s because of the strong foundation you built for them.
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