Dear Parent…

Dear Parent, 

Remember when you got the news? 
Remember when there were two pink lines? 
Remember how scared you were? 

Remember when they grabbed your finger for the first time? 
Remember when they were so small? 
Remember when you watched them sleep for hours just to make sure they were breathing? 

Remember when they started walking? 
Remember how quickly it turned to running? 
Remember trying to keep up just in case they fell? 

Remember when they came to you crying? 
Remember how a magic kiss made it better? 
Remember thinking you can’t listen to Baby Shark one more time? 

Then one day; 

Baby Shark wasn’t on in the background. 
Band-Aids didn’t have Spider-Man on them. 
They wiped their own tears. 

Then you blinked; 

Now they are teenagers. 
It’s confusing. 
You know you’ve been one before, but never had to deal with Snapchat.
You want to relate, but it’s hard. 

But one thing is the same. 
You are still trying to keep up beside them in case they fall. 

They love their sport. It’s important to them. So it’s important to you. 

It may not seem like it sometimes, but your voice cuts through everyone else’s.

I’ve seen it time and time again. 

The kid who scores a goal and looks straight to the sidelines before celebrating.
The kid who misses the goal and is scared to get in the car. 

The kid who plays hurt because they don’t want to get in trouble.
They no longer need you to pick them up. They need you beside them, knowing it’s okay no matter the reason they fell. 

They need to know that you love them even if they miss.
That they are so much more than an athlete. 
That your love is not dependent on a medal. 

Your actions are guided by an unexplainable love. A love so deep that you would do anything just so that they don’t feel an ounce of discomfort. 

But there was a you before all of this. 
And that person has experiences, baggage, and wounds. 
And they guide all of your decisions as a parent. 

This is an invitation. 

To pause. 
To breathe. 
To reflect with no shame, only compassion. 

You matter. Your story matters. 

If you slow down long enough, you will notice where fear, pride, or pain is driving your parenting and holding you back from something BEAUTIFUL. 

You can choose something different. 
And your child will benefit. 

They will start to breathe again. 
To play again. 
To believe: I am enough. I am safe. I am loved. 

Not because I scored, but because I am me. 

Let your child play. 
Let them fall. 
Let them fail. 

They don’t need you to judge them. They need you to love them. 

With love, 
A teacher, A coach. A therapist. A parent. 
Someone who’s still learning, too.

– Justine Bernier, MACP, Registered Psychotherapist (Qualifying)