How to Raise Healthy Children (And 5 Ways Parenting Can Improve Mental Health)

Growing up, I’d always imagined myself as a husband and father. It was probably the foremost dream of my life, and I’ve never exactly been sure why. I had every reason to want it; all the families I grew up around were happy, together, and fun. Mine wasn’t the most emotionally warm family, but it was peaceful and a source of great stability.

Still, as I’ve reflected over the years, I think I grew up wanting something more. Safety and stability and even some measure of joy can’t replace true intimacy and esteem. I wanted to be able to be myself completely with another person — something incredibly hard for most people, but especially for a shy, introverted, sensitive boy who grew up in a family where the stiff upper lip was the status quo. The thought of a woman who could know me — the real me — and still hold me in high esteem, or even encourage me to be more of me, well… that was the dream.

Gratefully, I’ve found something warm and lovely if imperfect. And now we’ve gone and added 2 more to the party. Two souls with a blank slate of sorts, and with them a slew of worries that I might pass on my imperfections and insecurities, thus continuing a generations long cycle of emotional immaturity that manifests in different, while not crippling ways.

Make no mistake: I’m not enlightened. I’m no emotional buddha, and do not claim to have the upper hand over my parents or grandparents or great grandparents when it comes to emotions and psychology or any other competence. But I am cursed with some knowledge that presses me onwards towards growth and a desire to improve upon myself and my circumstances, and that includes the family environment that I was lucky and blessed to have.

So, in a word, I worry. Worry that I may perpetuate or pass on my own immaturity unwittingly. Worry that I may miss something, a bid from my boys or a part of them that needs me in some way, such that they are left with a wound that disrupts their future. I worry that their 20’s may be like mine, dark and low. Or that their search for a mate may be as troublesome as mine felt, through mistakes of my own, flaws that I did not see for the longest time, a heart that did not know what it wanted except for unconditional love, or the rose coloured goggles that my dreams gave me, blurring to my eyes pitfalls I may have avoided.

And yet in all of the darkness and rough patches God took me through, I also know that I’ve been crafted into something I simply could not have been otherwise. Some wounds still haven’t healed, and in some ways “what doesn’t kill you” can make you weaker (at first, and possibly for an extended period). But still, it’s hard to find a part of me that I love that hasn’t been formed out of the dark and difficult times of my past.

This reflection leaves me conflicted: what, then, do I protect my boys from, if I know that difficulty adds to our lives?

I think capacity for difficulty increases with a sturdy foundation. So I don’t want to raise fragile boys, ones who know no danger. But there’s another kind of fragility that could come from excess hardness and brittleness, perhaps caused by a harsh and cold environment, forming one into a fixed mindset needing approval to know that it is “good” as opposed to “bad” or whatever descriptor is fitting.

I want to keep my boys from silly questions: Am I good enough? Will a girl ever like me for me?

I don’t typically appreciate the modern attitude of “I know my value”. It feels entitled and unnecessarily self-positive. Still, as always, there are babies in the bathwater: it is helpful to know one’s value as a human, perhaps also what they bring to the table in business or relationships. It’s helpful to have self-respect enough to ask better questions than “Am I good enough?” or even “Will this girl like me?”

How To Help Kids Build Confidence

So how do you help your kids find healthy confidence? I’ve been giving the idea a lot of thought, considering all the perspectives you hear online, and combining that with experience and my own understanding of psychology and development.

My first thought is, you don’t. Hear me out.

Even as I have great concern for my role as a parent, I’ve been learning that there’s much I can’t control. Likely, trying to control or shape my kids in certain ways will in fact be counterproductive. Thus, even though I want to show my kids how much I love them, there are times when I’ll have to give them “tough love” or let them face some natural consequences even though it might be painful for me. But this is less about what I can do and more about me doing less.

Take tummy time for example.

Tummy time is basically exercise for babies. It’s how they gain neck control and strength in their posterior chain.

But here, and in other early stage physical development, you can see a baby start to whine and complain (or whatever infant version of this). They’re understandably upset — it’s hard! A parent could be tempted in these moments to immediately flip the baby back over, make it easier for them, help them relax.

But doing this will slow their development, physically and psychologically.

My toddler is the same. He’ll complain, fuss, whine, until you pick him up. He’s going through a lot, to be sure (teething is no joke! nor is getting replaced, in some ways, by a newborn baby). But that doesn’t mean he should always get his way; moreover, getting his way means he won’t be challenged, nor will he learn the lesson that, “just because daddy doesn’t always carry me, doesn’t meant he doesn’t love me.”

Somewhat conveniently, we build healthy and confident children by focusing on what we can control: if I can a) regulate my emotions, b) love them through their failures, and c) let them struggle and even fail (note how b and c require a!), then they may in fact build their own confidence. They can experiment, explore, fail forward, and emote without fear of detachment or losing love.

This doesn’t mean we praise everything (we don’t) nor does it mean we don’t offer support or feedback (we should). But it does mean we give kids what the research may call “appropriate autonomy.” The goal isn’t high self-esteem so much as high self-efficacy: a stable sense that they can overcome problems and challenges in life, and that they’re worthy of respect.

Too Hard or Too Soft? How to Build Secure Attachment in Kids

The experts all debate on exactly how to build emotional stability and security, but my current impression (late to the game as I am) is that each school of thought has grains of truth.

If you overdo emotional closeness, if you never let them struggle on their own or cry it out, they’ll never learn independence. This is the archetype of the Oedipal Mother, as it is usually the mother inclined to this. In attachment theory, this child typically ends up fused to the parent, and struggles with codependency later in life.

But the reverse is true too: if you don’t respond lovingly to cries or fears, they won’t deal with the fear, or learn that they’re okay in spite of it. They therefore do not leran to attach at all. This is the tyrannical father approach, as it usually is the father who acts this way. In future relationships, the child treated in this way may end up avoidant, struggling to properly attach.

Even if you’re not a tyrant, you may lack healthy emotional regulation skills. If this is the case, the kids will struggle in similar ways as above. They move into a kind of codependency, where they need to avoid feelings and situations that may trigger their parent, otherwise they face the monster that is your poorly regulated nervous system. In order to stay safe and attached to their parent (and, they assume, others in their future), they can’t express how they feel, they can’t take risks, they can’t have fun, or whatever it is that you’ve let trigger you too often without repairing afterward.

Obviously, every parent is going to get frustrated with their kids, yell at them, or otherwise have some kind of outburst at some point or another. Nobody’s perfect. But how much of a pattern is this? How does it go after the fact? Does mom or dad say sorry and help the child understand that it’s not their fault? Are they reminded that mom and/or dad still love them and wants them to explore and take appropriate risks?

There Is No Chill Pill

The saddest stuff isn’t angry parents but the resentful and bitter ones that won’t even let their kids have fun without dumping on them. I’ve had clients whose fun and joy were subjects of scrutiny, criticism and anger. They weren’t allowed to enjoy themselves. They often end up bitter and resentful themselves, and it makes having any kind of productive relationship with their parents difficult.

Children will make you angry, frustrated, stressed, tired, sad, anxious, and just about every emotion under the sun. If you want your kids to feel safe, feel like they can explore and be themselves around you, it is essential that you work on regulation and tolerance. If you’re going to blow up at any given moment (even if they seem to deserve it!) then it’s not going to bode well for your relationship or your kids’ emotional health.

That’s not to say perfection is necessary. Everybody gets mad, has an outburst, etc., and it’s simply going to happen. Your kids can learn from that, too, especially if you repair well as time goes on. But in general, your outbursts and moments of “losing it” would be best kept to a minimum.

Which leads me to the next big thing I’ve been thinking about: having kids actually benefits you.

How Becoming a Parent is Actually Good For Your Mental Health

I’ve come to another conclusion that I would have probably assumed before having kids but feels even more true now that I have a couple: There are few things as good for your mental health as having kids.

Having children is like a built-in mental health training obstacle course. Like in a real obstacle course, you could hurt yourself. It could go poorly. Things might get worse before they get better.

Still, the benefits are plentiful, and almost best of all, they become built in to your life.

1. Responsibility That You Actually Want

It’s crazy how much you love your kids. For me, it happened just about instantly: on the days of their births, as soon as I heard the cry of my boys something in my body changed. I cried in both instances, feeling the shift inside. I’m not exactly sure what it was, but I think it was at least an inner acknowledgement that their lives mattered to me in the most altruistic of ways.

My father told us as much growing up. He said he would run through fire, take whatever he had to take, to keep us alive. I resonate with that, on the deepest level.

This love inevitably fuels a sense of responsibility. The responsibility is there whether or not the love is, but the love fans the flame. It’s a strange cocktail of emotions, but I recognize within it a sense of calling to something higher than myself.

All of a sudden, I have exponentially more reason to workout, to stay healthy, to act with integrity, to love my wife and friends. I have a metaphorical weight on my shoulders. It’s a good weight; it grounds me, and it makes me stronger over time.

I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that even though I’m probably more tired and busy than I’ve ever been, I’m more mentally grounded and driven than ever. And even in the moments I’m not, I know I will be better off as I push through these difficult seasons.

Moreover, my responsibilities give me a sense of self-worth. There are now creatures that depend on me wholeheartedly and love me unconditionally. Even in the moments I don’t know it, it’s true, and just like object permanence, my nervous system is realizing that on a deeper level.

I have no choice. The show must go on. I will grin and bear it, if I have to, but more likely I will find joy in making my loved ones safe, provided for, and given the best possible starting point in life.

It’s hard to understand parents who don’t find this joyful. I suppose the big factor is immaturity, and I don’t say that disparagingly: they don’t know how to regulate themselves, the difficulty gets overwhelming, they give up, they let negative attitudes or entitlement or comparison to others get in the way. Perhaps they forget that in sacrificing the self, its desires, its comforts, etc. now, you get surpassing joy and meaning for decades.

2. Parenting Challenges You, In a Good Way

Counter-intuitively for some, challenge is actually essential to mental health. To quote the great philosopher Connor McGregor,

“The more uncomfortable I make myself, the more comfortable I become.”

Challenge forces you to emotionally regulate, to learn how to stick with something and apply effort over time. It gives you a greater sense of self-efficacy, which is essentially one’s confidence. The more I do hard things, the more my nervous system respects itself to overcome difficulty, regardless of the nature of that difficulty.

A lot of life seems easier when compared to all the challenges children bring.

3. Becoming a Parent Forces You Into Routine

Even if you’re a purely go-with-the-flow type, having children (who thrive on routine, fair warning) forces some regularity and consistency in your life.

Like sleeping in, even though it isn’t good for you? Hah, good luck with keeping up that bad habit. Have trouble with a consistent bed time? Well your kid will need it, and with early wakes, you won’t care much for that extra 30+ minutes at night and will likely rather hit the pillow at a consistent and early time.

There are plenty of ways you have to “go with the flow” as a parent, but many also where you have to stick to a schedule, make detailed plans with forethought, or just automate parts of your day. Routine is healthy, and being forced into it can help those of us who otherwise would rather just coast.

4. Parenting Forces You To Develop Wisdom & Character — Not Just Intelligence

Becoming a parent doesn’t make you automatically wise, but raising kids forces you to think and reflect on what matters, what’s true about the world and human nature (and yourself), and make some hard decisions. There’s a lot of problem solving involved, and therefore lots of opportunity to learn. But there’s also a need to make smart choices; ones you know you should make, even if you don’t always want to. I could stay out late tonight. But I know I’ll pay for it in a few hours when my kid decides to wake up early.

And it’s not just practical decisions. All your life choices take on a new meaning when new life enters the picture. Where do we live? What should we eat? How do I live, now that I really have to think about my health, longevity, and the example I set?

If it hasn’t been clear, a lot of these changes I’m noting overlap. Wisdom and character have always been understood to come through difficulty. Philosophers, theologians, prophets, all of them know that suffering (of various kinds) leads to growth. Trial by fire.

But suffering without cause can be particularly discouraging. If there isn’t some kind of light at the end of the tunnel, some kind of joy or positive emotion in the thing itself, why bother? Thankfully, few things are as meaningful and compelling as parenting.

5. Parenting Instills Meaning Into Your Life Like Nothing Else

Meaning can be hard to define. If I were to take a stab before asking Google, I’d say something like, “purpose and value, a sense of worth”. If something in your life is meaningful, it provides you with positive emotion as well as objective value.

Entertainment can often give you positive emotion; not all entertainment yields objective value to your life. Usually, our work provides a sense of accomplishment and also provides, among other things, resources (i.e. money). It’s also, usually and ideally, a place of belonging and connection. Those things keep us going to the same place every week, tolerating inevitable monotony, politics, and challenge.

Our relationships are perhaps our greatest source of meaning in life, and children are perhaps the most exemplary version of this. The love and joy kids bring to you is unmatched. Despite how difficult raising children is, most people couldn’t ever imagine “going back” after having kids, even if life would be far easier.

It’s not simply that my wife and I do show up to all the poop, the tantrums, the sleepless nights, etc. It’s that we want to show up. It’s not that we like those moments per se — but the kids and the experience are so worth all of the crap you have to put up with that we willingly and joyfully do it every day.

I remember hearing Dr. Jordan Peterson say that having kids is “a pretty good deal.” He noted the life-long relationship you get, the fact that they (most of the time) want to like and love you, the free entertainment (kids are genuinely funny), and the wonder with which they see the world that you share with them. You get all of this and more, even if the cost is high.

I agree, and gladly pay the price of poopy diapers and all the other shit (literally and figuratively). I’m hoping I have a good relationship with my kids for the rest of my life. That isn’t a guarantee, but even if it isn’t, I’ll be glad for being able to give them life, and having the rewarding, character-building experience of raising them. I am already a better person for it, and I thank God for the opportunity.