As stated, it’s complex. So many times, I’ve heard the refrain from others (when commenting on their interactions with their children), “I can’t believe it… I sound just like my mother!” Certainly, people copy behaviors and are greatly influenced by genetics and environment. But, we should not be bound by the adage, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Many factors (including choices) can determine adherence to or departure from the ways one’s parents did things. The processes of maturity, individuation, and desatellization help us pick and choose what our own parents did well or not and how much we want to emulate them. Because we tend to respond strongly to negative experiences, it’s common for adults to determine “not to do the awful things my parents did to me.” Years later, in retrospect, they may or may not be so awful.

Surely, many unfortunate individuals bear the scars of inadequate (or worse) parenting. Yet, many others eventually realize what their parents did well and how much they sacrificed. Appreciating what one’s parents did and the difficulties they faced is often amplified by one’s own parenting struggles.

My purpose in writing about this is to offer you the following:

1. Reflections to enhance your perspective in resolving mixed feelings (e.g., longings, regrets, guilt, resentment, etc.) about your relationship with your parents.
2. Reassurance that you are not alone in working out your “issues” about your own past and the people who raised you.
3. Validation of your feelings that your children barely appreciate all you do and have done for them.
4. Acknowledgment of your increasing maturity, selfless giving, and sacrifices that are an inherent part of parenting.
5. Encouragement to continue your psychological development toward closure about your own parents and relationship with them.

There may be a lot of water under the bridge: you’re older now. Things are different. Much has changed, is gone, or is resolved. Your parents may not be around, perhaps for decades. However, the past can linger and affect us. We don’t want it to haunt.

As the well-known writer Mitch Albom wisely observed: “Death ends a life, not a relationship.”

So, whether your elders are around or not, whether you feel limited by your past, or are wistful or nostalgic in memories, the impact of parents upon you and your influence as parents yourselves brims with sacrifices, large and small, multiple throughout the years.

A Child’s Mind

The mind of a child is preoccupied with primitive emotional reactions, fantasies, and partial understanding of how the world works (limited by developmental stage, exposure, and cognitive abilities). The comprehension of complex cause and effect and the capacity to plan, delay gratification, and inhibit impulses take years to develop and hone.

Children are dependent and want attention to be secure and feel important. Adaptive and maladaptive behaviors develop toward these ends, as do perceptions and concepts about the nature and predictability of significant adults around them. The child and less mature adolescent and emerging adult is predominantly governed by what’s in it for me ideas and motivations. They view adults as ingredients and accessories for their own pre-eminent needs, and this innate self-centeredness precludes much realistic understanding of the factors and needs that drive their parents’ actions.

If all goes well, adaptive maturity and healthy psychological development gradually supersede the narcissistic solipsism of childhood and enhance recognition and appreciation of the needs of others and necessity of adjusting to their characteristics. When a youngster doesn’t get what he wants or needs (or thinks he does) or when he’s continually ignored, manipulated, abused, or emotionally frustrated, the gates and blinders intrude upon the ability to see others in their own right and to feel and extend compassion, consideration, and empathy.

We are all guilty of this because children are—well, needy children. Life gradually chisels us, and retrospect allows the revised understanding of what was emotionally overwhelming and could not be rationally parsed in the past.

Unfortunately, many people feel imprisoned by their past, resentfully blaming their parents and childhood experiences for pressing adult obstacles, limitations, and unhappiness. Notwithstanding the legitimacy of early influences, neurological impact, and traumas that need healing and may require professional input, the default nature of egocentrism and self-pity plunges many into the drowning depths of anger, bitterness, obstinacy, and entitlement regarding their deprivation that they attribute, at core, to the failings of their parents.

Recapitulation

Both lay and professional experiences concede that those abused as children have a much higher likelihood to abuse others as adults. At subtler levels, if you grew up in a home with a lot of yelling or drinking, this history tends to influence your own patterns as an adult. Note, importantly, that these are probabilities, not determinants.

Thus, we have marked professional and mythological tendencies to observe the apple not falling far from the tree. Problems arise if, when we see a bruised or rotten apple, we focus most of our attention on the tree we assume released its fall.

It happens that parents are blamed, accused, maligned, underappreciated, and held responsible for jobs for which they are seldom adequately equipped. The witticism that children aren’t born with an instruction manual is supplanted by the plethora of literature these days on parenting and child development. Nonetheless, parenting isn’t easier or freer of sacrifices. Politicians and leaders are elected or appointed and have constituents, promises, and track records. Parents enter the fray (not always intentionally) with genes, hopes, and too many bills.

Thus, the continuing developmental growth that serves as context for evaluating one’s own parents, placing in better perspective what and how they did, and healing and resolving conflicts about generational relationships occurs across many decades. It’s never complete in that the sequence of parents ahead of children breeds inherent ambivalence about dependence, independence, attachment, and control. This is the reality that underpins ontogeny between you and your parents and you and your offspring (if you have them).

The best you can do is approach closure, satisfaction, and appreciation for the people and circumstances that shaped you and individuate to the point where you have flexibility and freedom from the traumas and conditioning that once held you captive.

Parental Sacrifices

It is helpful to review and reflect upon the sacrifices that parents make for their children. Beyond humble gratitude, acknowledging parental sacrifices balances the emotional prejudice we have about our parents and our entitlements with a more accurate appraisal of our parents’ efforts, along with their strengths and weaknesses.

Parents sometimes leverage their seniority by telling their children, “You’ll find out when you get older,” or “Let’s see what happens when you have kids.” This incantation is usually received as a controlling, “below-the-belt” swipe at the competence and naiveté of the upstart offspring. Yet, regardless of the comment’s subverting intent or impact, there’s often compelling truth this observation implies. We do discover much wisdom in the advice and experience of our elders, though often begrudgingly and with some rancor.

Reflecting upon parents’ sacrifices can help bridge this gap between puerile frustrations and mature adult assessments.

The sacrifices of parents extend well beyond the material. Obviously, providing tangible necessities is required. Except for the few very privileged, it’s not easy to pay for the constant demands and basics. Just as challenging is the need to spend time with children, to nurture, teach, and discipline them, and to be an integrated, supervisory, and supportive part of their lives. Sometimes, children and family members will recognize these efforts and even express gratitude.

Yet, there are other sacrifices parents make that typically go unrecognized, at least until decades later. These are the sacrifices of letting go—of watching children make their own mistakes and navigating the precarious paths that weave between intervention and restraint. Of course, parents must instruct, supervise, and protect their kids. Increased trust and freedom accompanies maturity and behavior, guided by individual and community values and standards. But, I’m referring to much deeper and abstract levels of sacrifice: the relinquishing of control and expectations that let the child become his own person. It’s so difficult to give up on hopes and dreams and release the child from living in the shadow of parental desires and expectations, well-intended though they may be.

Every parent wants his child to succeed. It’s a natural inclination to want the best for your child, to seek to spare him from hurts and pitfalls, and to desire greater achievements and perhaps escape from grievous mistakes parents have made. But, what happens when a child chooses a different path? If your child pursues different religious or sexual orientation from your own, what then? You give advice, bite your lip, try to influence, and hope for the best. Ultimately, the parental sacrifices involve accepting the child and his choices, even if you object.

Made many times, the sacrifice of letting your child live his own life may be the most difficult and genuine of gifts. It goes against the grain of natural instinct and learned experience of what you believe is best.

The sacrifice of relinquishing a child to the world does not always involve rebellion. Children find partners, get married, move far away, or choose careers that carry them away from family. It’s bittersweet to wish your child well, bless his independence, while struggling internally with missing and worrying about him. Yet, this is largely the natural order of things.

My Story

I was fortunate to have parents who loved and provided for me. In light of what I know now, I was lucky indeed. Growing up, however, it was another story. I resented and hated my parents for a long time, disparaging their methods, intrusiveness, their lifestyles, and personalities. Looking back, I see that I was selfish, spoiled, protected, and entitled. I like the person I’ve become much better than the person I used to be, measured in degrees of retrospective age, outlook, and behavior.

My parents were professionals who regularly touted their own prestige as elite community members (or so they thought). They were simply trying to let me know how fortunate I was to live under the auspices of their values, experiences, and provision. I didn’t care about that. Rather, I took their largesse for granted, while I disliked their personalities, deemed them boorish, and blamed them for all my frustrations and dissatisfactions.

My mother was very loving, but extremely overprotective and intrusive. If she was into a lecture or argument (most of our interactions), then the bathroom door was no obstacle to continuing her tirade. Sitting on the toilet provided no respite, as when she would barge in on me and press on to make her point. She was a teacher, and so she made it her business to nag me incessantly about homework and academic performance, peppering her routine exhortations with rants predicting my eventual future as a “bum.”

My father was angry, depressed, and fearful. For him, the world was a threatening place. He constantly vented his anguished editorials about the dangers of everyday life. He was cynical, sarcastic, and berating, typically criticizing a person’s sensitivities. It was his natural method of communication. Watching the news, he’d say, “Yeah, so-and-so needs that burden like you need another twenty pounds.”

My parents fought each other and the world for the fifty years they were married until my father passed first.

Decades later, here’s what I recognize and appreciate:

My parents worked hard to make a living. They saved, provided for me and my brother, and sent us to college away from home. They paid for summer camps and all kinds of extras. They denied themselves many material things and opportunities. They took care of their own parents (who berated them), ignoring indiscretions and domineering, while providing care, money, and presence.

The values my parents tried to imbue were wholesome and worthy. They tried to teach me good habits. I hated attending religious school and was irreverent and rebellious in my tumultuous adolescence. I was a handful, a drain, and a heartache. Perhaps my parents should have divorced (given their constant animosity), but they stayed together and provided an intact, if highly dysfunctional, family. They paid for my years of therapy, which I snidely threw in their faces as payback and repair for their terrible parenting (imagine my chutzpah!). They never abandoned me, even when I rebelled, taunted, and flaunted. They swallowed pride, sought help when needed, and were willing to listen, even when they were horrified and overruled.

My father stayed close to his own parents, absorbing into his father’s dental practice and staying tied to the hip until his father died. My dad wanted the same for me, but I would have no part of it. I sought greener pastures in California. Realizing that they would lose me to the West Coast and my own plight, my parents supported my move financially and emotionally.

What an enormous sacrifice it must have been for them to see me move three thousand miles away. They encouraged me, cheered me on, and uplifted me in my many periods of despair. When I married my first wife (and mother of my children) who was not Jewish, my parents were crestfallen. When I accepted Christ as my savior, this was considered an apostasy. Still, my parents welcomed me and my wife into their family, adjusting to (but eschewing) our differences. They never kicked me to the curb. They made huge sacrifices of accommodation and acceptance.

As my own years of parenting progressed, my folks shared things about themselves and their history that let down their hair so I could know them more intimately. My father spoke of his childhood traumas and his underconfidence in graduate school. He was a very smart and wise man who belittled himself (and others) and who didn’t think he was smart enough.

After my father passed away, my mother spoke of the inappropriate behaviors to which her father (a revered rabbi) subjected her. She also revealed to me that her fiancé was killed in World War II. Devastated, my mother “settled” for my father who came along as a convenient second best. How weird it was for me to assimilate this information! I wasn’t adopted; yet, I became uncertain about who—or if— I might have been if my mother had married her first intended.

Oh, the sacrifices my parents made to bring me into the world and put up with me! Your parents did likewise. If you are adopted or have adopted children, think about those sacrifices. Mothers gave up their children so you could thrive and parent. And mothers carried babies to birth when it was painful, inconvenient, unplanned, or inopportune.

As a Parent

Generations come, and generations go. I regard becoming a parent as a great blessing and privilege. I love being a father, despite its litany of anguish and traumas. My sacrifices are typical and common—and worth it, although the pressures and responsibilities compelled me to stay the course. I’ve not donated organs, but have sweated the indignities and agonies of raising children. I’ve savored the precious moments. I’ve lost parents and lost a child. I’ve endured family fighting me throughout my life. I’ve promoted very little of the conflicts, especially in my mature years.

My continuing and biggest sacrifices are a broken spirit and contrite heart, along with the commitment to forgive and love family and accept them living their own lives, even if that excludes my opinions, values, or even my presence.

There is no way we can repay our parents for giving us the precious gift of life. No matter how effective, strange, or irresponsible they were, we made it! They did their job!

In the animal kingdom, we are unique in the care and instruction required to survive, the time it takes to emerge independently, and the longevity of psychological attachment and influence parents and children have upon each other.

Reflect upon the sacrifices your parents made—how long and mysterious the path of your realizations—and how, in turn, you sacrifice for those you love, often with unrecognized or long delayed responses for your offerings and efforts.