I wish I failed more before I became a mother. I want my daughter to know resilience is more important than success.

The author doesn’t want her daughter to strive for perfection. 

I am a trifecta of eldest daughter stereotypes: overachiever, people-pleaser, and perfectionist. I have always been a rule follower, and as a teenager, I rarely challenged my Indian immigrant parents’ strict rules.

By some combination of nature and nurture, I channeled these traits into academics in high school, spending inordinate amounts of time obsessing over my grades (especially that one B+ that ruined my high school valedictorian dreams).

Academic success became the cornerstone of my self-esteem as I entered college, and my priorities reflected this. I turned down invitations to socialize, travel, and explore in order to study, study, and then study some more. I lost more sleep worrying about a possible B or C grade than over developmentally appropriate partying.

Even though my perfectionism helped me get into graduate school and pursue my career of choice as a psychologist, by my 20s, I knew intellectually that putting all my self-worth eggs in the external achievements basket was a recipe for disappointment and anxiety.

However, without a constructive perspective on failure, I was unmotivated to take risks. What I didn’t realize until later was that my fear of failure would also affect my parenting.

Achieving my highest professional goal left me unfulfilled

After earning tenure at my university, I was euphoric but soon felt restless. I didn’t understand why the achievement was so anticlimactic, but with the help of my therapist, I discovered that I wanted something more, something more meaningful. It turned out that after having spent my entire adult life firmly in the child-free zone, I wanted to have a baby.

A few years later, at age 38, I got pregnant. At the time, I was working six days a week, so I couldn’t do my usual overpreparation by reading dozens of books about pregnancy and parenting. I told myself that this was actually a blessing in disguise because it forced me to curb my overachiever tendencies.

Well, even if I had read a library of books on parenting, I would not have avoided the inevitable uncertainty of being a parent. I struggled with breastfeeding, as many mothers do, and in my postpartum period, I filtered this experience through my default lens of success vs. failure. I carried guilt about my breastfeeding challenges for many months, counting them as failure

A lactation consultant transformed my perspective on parenting

Thankfully, the next day, my daughter’s pediatrician referred me to a lactation consultant to whom I will forever be indebted.

She met with me via Zoom, and her long white hair and confident smile instilled hope. She normalized my feelings of failure, imparted an attitude of experimentation and grace, and helped me refocus on the task at hand. She helped me see that what really matters is learning how to be the parent that my daughter needs, not the parent that I or others think I should be.

Of course, this is no easy task. The lexicon of modern parenting styles continues to grow. At the same time, both parents and youth are struggling with mental health, and social media glorifies success. Our educational system further reinforces the connection between self-worth and achievement through grades.

I hope to set a good example for my daughter

While we work on changing our systems and culture to be more compassionate, there are many immediate ways to foster resilience in ourselves and our children.

Some of the strategies I’ve been implementing include trying things that I’m not good at. I recently took a satire writing class and won’t be pitching The Onion anytime soon. I’m also allowing myself to meet an 80% standard on any task that is not related to a current priority and practicing grace toward myself, my husband, and my daughter.

My hope for my daughter has always been that she sees her innate worth reflected in the love of her family and support system and that she is equipped with the tools to face challenges with confidence and courage. Now I know that this starts with me.