We Are Not Perfect Parents..... we Are Parents.

If someone had told me a few years ago that I would be talking about this today, I wouldn’t have believed it. And for two very clear reasons: first, because motherhood was not part of my plans; and second, because if it ever crossed my mind, I was sure I would be a “calm” mother — relaxed, one of those who seem to take everything in stride. I never imagined I would become this kind of mother: worried, reflective, constantly questioning, raising a child in this era of respectful parenting where everything seems to have a name, a theory, and an opinion.

I am also not — and I want to say this with complete honesty — the kind of mother who follows manuals and theories to the letter. I don’t parent from rigid formulas or from fear of making mistakes. But I’m not indifferent either. I am the kind of mum I believe many of us want to be: someone who tries to raise capable, happy humans who are, above all, emotionally strong and healthy. Because if respectful parenting invites us to do anything, when it’s truly understood, it’s not to raise perfect children, but people who can move through the world without breaking inside.

Over time, I’ve understood that parenting with respect is not a trend. It is a deep emotional responsibility. It requires you to look at yourself, to question yourself, to pause impulses that come from far back, and to unlearn things you once believed were normal.

No one fully prepares you for that — especially not for the uncomfortable awareness that appears when you realise that you are not only raising a child, but also raising yourself.

Respectful parenting doesn’t begin with your

little one, it begins with how you treat

yourself when you doubt.

At first, I thought being informed would be enough: reading, listening to experts, doing “the right thing.” I believed theory would be a clear map, almost a manual. And it is, to a certain extent. But real life doesn’t always follow manuals. There are nights of extreme exhaustion, moments of doubt, days when love feels overwhelming and, at the same time, you wonder if you’re doing it right. That’s when theory becomes fragile, and what remains is your ability to hold space, even when you don’t have answers.

There is something we don’t talk about enough: respectful parenting can hurt too. It hurts when it demands more regulation than you have, when it brings up your own wounds, when your inner child asks to be seen at the exact moment your child — very real and very demanding — needs you. In that space, guilt appears, along with self-demand and that quiet feeling of not being enough.

We want to do better than before. We want to break patterns, not repeat stories, to parent differently. But without noticing, we sometimes replace one ideal with another. Before, it was obedience; now, it’s perfect regulation. Before, it was “children don’t cry”; now, it’s “if they cry and you’re not calm, you’re doing something wrong.” And no. That’s not how it works.

We are not perfect parents. We never were, and we never will be. And far from being a failure, that is the most honest foundation from which to parent. Because parenting is not about doing it perfectly; it’s about being available. It’s about repairing. It’s about coming back. It’s about showing that making mistakes doesn’t break the bond, that apologising also teaches, and that even if you feel like you fail again and again, that does not make you a bad parent.

Our children don’t need perfect parents or fearless parents. They need real parents — parents who can say, “This is too much for me, but I’m still here.” Parents who understand that emotional strength does not come from perfection, but from the possibility of trying again, over and over.

So here I am, reminding us that we are already doing something deeply valuable: staying, even when we don’t fully know how. Parenting is not about saving anyone; it’s about accompanying with imperfect love, sometimes with fear, with mistakes — and still choosing to show up. And the truth is, I also need to be reminded of this every day, especially in those moments when I feel like I’m not doing it “that well.”

This is the only truth: we didn’t come here to be perfect parents. We came here to be parents. And that, even when it doesn’t feel like it, is more than enough.