Indira’s pregnancy diet was rich with healthy fare: fresh pomegranate juice, quinoa up the wazoo, chia seeds, red raspberry leaf tea. And so I found myself, an hour after our son was born, in line at Shake Shack.
“I don’t want to be like you,” my daughter used to say. Standing side by side, looking in the mirror, she has my eyes and my smile. And she watches herself in the mirror with my expression. No, she doesn’t want to be like me, but can she help it?
I want to believe that risk of suicide is something that can be modeled, a problem for which experts can devise a formula to tell me whether my children are at risk. But some things can’t and shouldn’t be quantified.
Parenting, after all, is kind of like the ultimate reality show. It’s about assessing your challenges and transforming them into something manageable. I didn’t need to make things perfect; I just needed to make it work.