I didn’t think I’d be a good mum.
Fourteen years ago, I wasn’t a mum.
I only had to think about myself.
Then a child came into the world and nothing was ever the same.
When I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t believe I could be a good parent.
I knew I didn’t have the skills or attributes.
From my years as a dancer, I’d learnt something important: if you’re not good at something, you can get better, but only if you put the work in.
So I treated parenting like the most important performance of my life.
I became a student.
I read, I researched, I listened, and I leaned into conversations — especially with parents raising boys with autism.
My reading journey began with:
How Not to F** Them Up* by Oliver James
The Conscious Parent by Dr Shefali Tsabary
The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting by Brené Brown
Maximum Achievement by Brian Tracy
How to Raise Super Kids by Brian Tracy
The Brain That Changes Itself by Norman Doidge
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
Different, Not Less by Temple Grandin
The Reason I Jump by Naoki Higashida (translated by Keiko Yoshida & David Mitchell)
One Day My Soul Just Opened Up by Iyanla Vanzant
Ask and It Is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks
Good to Great by Jim Collins
The Surrender Experiment by Michael A. Singer
M-Powering a gift given to me by Christel Friberg Land
I also read countless research papers on autism and neuroplasticity, attended masterclasses, and listened deeply to other parents who had walked this road before me.
Quincy making it to 14 and being the wonderful human he is is not the result of natural parenting talent.
It is the result of choosing to learn, to grow, and to commit to the work.
Khalil Gibran wrote:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
Parenting, for me, isn’t about ownership.
It’s about being a guardian of a life passing through you.
It’s about holding space for another soul’s journey, while allowing yourself to be reshaped in the process.
Fourteen years in, I can say this with certainty:
I am not the same person I was before.
And for that, I am deeply grateful.
