The Golden Rule from A Mother's Perspective by Terri N. Porcuna

Twenty-eight years ago, I was standing in front of a hospital incubator in the pediatric ward.  As I watched my newborn son sleep, an orderly quietly walked up to me and asked me a question that I will never forget.

“What are you thinking of when you’re watching him?” he asked.  

The man was an older gentleman.  He was probably my father’s age.  I looked away from my baby who was lying chest down, buttocks up.  He was being treated for jaundice and had to be “put under the light” for a couple of days.

I smiled at the orderly and I simply said, “I can’t believe he’s mine.”

I was disappointed not to be able to bring my son home when the hospital discharged me.  I felt after all those laborious hours of childbirth, I had nothing to show for it and that my biggest reward was being left behind in the hospital for a few days.  I remembered saying to myself “So, this is how it feels to worry about your child.”  I finally understood what my parents went through when I or one of my siblings was sick.  

The nurses reassured me that the baby will be all right and that I should take advantage of the time I have without the baby because once the baby is home, there’ll never be free time.  How right they were!  But, even with the kind-hearted advice from the hospital staff, I couldn’t wait to take him home.

As I watched him sleeping, I realized his life depended on how I raised him, the person he would become, and so forth.  At that moment, the thought was overwhelming.  At the same time, what a privilege.  I asked myself why would God want me to be a mother?  I have no experience with babies nor with little kids.  I was the youngest in my family.  I have never babysat.  This child of mine did not come with any instruction book and I didn’t come with experience.  It was a blank slate for me to fill out.

In the nine (or ten) months that I carried him, I thought a lot of how I was going to raise him.  It was overwhelming to think that I’m responsible for this child. There was so much potential in this little person and I would be the one to guide his life.  No instruction book, I thought. No experience. I question my ability to be a mother. What is really my role in this child’s life? I’m supposed to feed and clothe him, that goes without saying, but what am I to tell him about life when I was just learning how to live?  

I read somewhere that “Our life is a gift from God; what we do with that life is our gift to God.”  I don’t know who the author is of that line.  I’ve seen other versions of it.  But it made me think that my son should have a life that was worth giving to God.  So, in combination with this thought and the Golden Rule, my road to parenthood would not go without some guidance from a source bigger than myself.

So, as I took my child home and held him in my arms and the many nights that I lulled him to sleep, I thought about the Golden Rule….”Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  [Luke 6:31] This would be my guide to raising a child.  

That first year was overwhelming in some ways as I searched for my footing as a parent.  Other times, it was just pure fun and really a privilege. Applying the Golden Rule felt natural; at times difficult but always the right way.  

As the baby cried, I went over a mental checklist. Sometimes when all questions have been answered and my baby was still crying, I thought, if I were this baby, what would I want?  I would want my mother to hug me and play with me, I thought.  So, I picked up my child, rubbed his back, gave him a hug, and played with him. The crying stopped. The baby giggled. 

My life was not my own anymore, but I didn’t mind because it was temporary.  Time will pass way too quickly.

When my son was about 10-11 years old (a fifth-grader), I attended a class party in his school.  The event was held in the classroom.  I watched him with his friends whom he had known since they were five and I conversed with the other parents.  When it was over, I went to my son and took his hand to escort him to the car.  I’ve done this since the day he learned to walk.  I held his hand when crossing the street. I held his hand when we were on our way to the playground or wherever we were going.  But, that year, was different. 

He let go of my hand.  For the first time, I realized that he didn’t need me to hold his hand.  He was asserting his independence.

My heart broke momentarily as I realized that we were transitioning to a different phase of his life. I had this feeling before during his babyhood when he started to have teeth.  I saw these tiny white lines which, were teeth, coming out of his tender gums.  

In my quiet moment, sometime in the night when everyone was asleep, I asked myself what would I want my parents to do if I was his age? My answer…like my son, I wouldn’t want my friends to see me still holding my mother’s hand nor my father’s hand. I wouldn’t want my friends to think I was still a baby.  In that innocent gesture, my son made it known that he was not a little boy anymore.  That was my Golden Rule moment.  Let my child feel independent without showing that I am not yet ready to let go.  It was what I would want if I was in his shoes.

I have a daughter who is three years younger than my son. When she was born, I thought raising another child would be easy. I already knew the answers. I’ve already gone through things with my son. My daughter was going to get an experienced parent. Not so. Fortunately, the Golden Rule was still (and continues) to be a part of my life.

It was in high school that my daughter and I were at odds with each other. Disagreements were expected and I saw these incidents as a way of knowing each other.  It might have been her junior or senior year that we were having too many disagreements.  I found the process is frustrating but necessary. I longed for the days when we were on the same page all the time. I longed for the days when I would take her to daycare and she would come running to me when I picked her up.  Or, when she was in kindergarten, and she ran and smiled at me when she saw me coming.  

During that period in high school, she was fearless, acted like she knew everything.  She acted like she was immune from ill will.  She loved her friends, loved hanging out with them; hated having a curfew.  

My Golden Rule moment came when I turned the tables around and asked myself what would I want my parents to do if I was this teenager?  Simply, I would want my parents to talk to me, to understand me, and to accept what I want to do including being out late.  I would put myself in this teenager’s soul and, in that Golden Rule moment, I found my answers.

So, my daughter and I talked….argued some more….and talked again. Finally, we reached the point where we understood each other.  I understood and remembered the carefree life of a teenager and she understood the realities of a worried parent. She understood why I get so worried...not about nothing but about something.

As my children approached young adulthood, I’ve realized that the Golden Rule was the best possible guide to follow in raising children.  I am in such a different place now in my life.  I am not that young mother watching her baby sleep in an incubator so many years ago.  I didn’t need an instruction book, after all, nor did I need experience (although that might have eased my mind) but just knowing what the Golden Rule meant and applying it throughout my life with my children helped me a lot.

The Golden Rule helped me prioritize the needs of my loved ones without sacrificing myself. I learned that as I take care of my children, I’m living my best possible self. I learned to love them in a way that I would also want to be loved. I learned to be strict at the right times. I learned to set boundaries where it was needed. I learned to let go when I have to. I learned to communicate with my children and treat them as individuals with independent minds. I learned to respect their space, understand their viewpoints. In the process, I grew with them.

As I look back, the Golden Rule not only applies to everyday life, but it is most helpful when you don’t have a compass to find the road you need. I cannot imagine that I would one day be the mother whose children can express their gratitude and appreciation. That I am the mother of children who can openly and unabashedly say what is on their minds and be at ease with that. I am overwhelmed and humbled when my children say thank you for showing them what love is. It’s the most blessed thing to hear.

It sure has been a long, long time since the day when that orderly in the hospital asked me what I was thinking when I watched my son sleep “under the light”.  

I can still remember when I said, without hesitation, “I can’t believe he’s mine.”

I am a writer based in Oakland, California. I hold a Bachelor of Arts degree in Journalism from San Francisco State University.  Currently, I am working on a collection of short stories and essays.