I have a grandbaby now.
And even though he brings me so much joy, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.
Not scared of the diapers, or the late nights, or the bottles. I’ve done that. I know how to nurture. I know how to give.
I’m scared because I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.
See, I gave my kids everything. I tried to make up for what I didn’t have growing up. I overdid, overgave, overcompensated. I wanted them to feel loved, seen, protected… and they did. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to teach them balance. Gratitude. Consideration.
I wanted to give them the world, but I forgot to teach them how to care for the hands that were holding it up.
So now, they expect. They take. They coast.
And I’m tired.
And now here I am with this new little life in front of me, and I find myself second-guessing everything. I don’t want to raise another child who feels entitled to love, but never learns how to return it. I don’t want to be the one who gives and gives until there’s nothing left.
But the truth is… I don’t really know how to do it any other way.
I was raised to be strong. To push through. To figure it out.
I never had space to be soft. And I still struggle with that.
So how do I break a pattern that I never saw broken?
How do I give my grandbaby all the love in the world without giving so much of myself away that I disappear in the process?
I don’t have the answer yet. But I do know this—I want better.
I want better for him.
I want better for me.
And I want to believe it’s not too late to learn how to love differently.
To parent differently.
To show up differently.
Because this time around, I’m not just raising a child—I’m trying to raise a new version of myself too.
If you’ve ever looked at your grandbaby—or your child—and thought, “Lord, please don’t let me do this the same way again,” you’re not alone. We don’t talk about this part enough. But I believe we can still heal. Still grow. Still love better.
