Chapter 8 - My Parenting Is Not Perfect
I wanted Dr. Reed to tell me Octavia was completely wrong about my parenting.
He did not.
Annoying profession.
“Do you overaccommodate Juniper because Amelia died?”
“Sometimes.”
“Examples?”
I thought.
She quit ballet after one class because another girl mentioned mothers.
I let her.
Reasonable.
She refused a sleepover because the host’s mother reminded her of Amelia.
I picked her up.
Reasonable.
She once demanded I cancel dinner with Octavia because she had a bad dream.
I canceled.
Maybe.
Then a pattern.
If Juniper looked distressed, my nervous system treated distress as danger.
I moved.
Fixed.
Removed.
Arranged.
Money makes that easy.
Birthday invitation problem?
Create another event.
Teacher mismatch?
Private school options.
Bad vacation memory?
Change destination.
Dr. Reed said:
“Grief makes parents confuse discomfort with injury.”
That hurt.
“Was I wrong to protect her from Hadley?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Two things can be true. Hadley’s behavior required intervention. Juniper may also need room to tolerate ordinary disappointment.”
I hated sentences beginning with two things can be true.
They usually mean no clean victory.
I asked Juniper’s therapist separately.
Dr. Morris agreed.
“Juniper is not fragile.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Silence.
“She can lose a game.”
“Yes.”
“She can have a friend prefer someone else.”
“Yes.”
“She can attend events where Amelia is discussed.”
“Yes.”
“She can be teased lightly.”
I hesitated.
“Depends.”
“Good.”
Boundaries.
Not every discomfort is abuse.
Not every joke is harmless.
The question is pattern, consent, power, response.
Juniper needed resilience.
She did not need a ten-year-old appointed by my fiancée to manufacture adversity.
I could own my overprotection without accepting Octavia’s method.
May you like
That became essential later.
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