There was a time I thought being a parent meant shaping my children into something—a version of what I’d always hoped to be or what I thought would keep them safest. I carried dreams I didn’t get to live out, and without meaning to, I placed them like little weights on their shoulders. Until I realized… children aren’t born to fulfil our dreams. They’re here to explore their own lives.
They’re not here to fix what hurt in us. They’re not here to bring us pride, or follow the path we think is best. They’re not extensions of our identity. They are whole people from the very beginning—curious, different, full of their own questions, and drawn toward their own answers.
My job isn’t to hand them a life plan. It’s to create space for them to discover who they are without fear. It’s to notice what sparks their joy, even if it looks nothing like what I imagined. It’s to listen more than I speak, and let their journey be messy, unpredictable, and uniquely theirs.
That doesn’t mean I step back completely. I’m still their guide, their anchor, their safe place. But I’ve let go of trying to steer them toward a version of success that belongs to me. Instead, I get to witness their unfolding—and that’s its own kind of beauty.
Parenting from a naturalist lens means honouring who they are as part of nature—growing and changing just as they’re meant to. Like trees in a wild forest, they don’t all need to look the same to be strong and rooted. They need freedom. They need love. And they need to know they are enough, just as they are.