There’s No Such Thing as a Perfect Parent

by Alexander Tidd

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I realized I wasn’t going to be a perfect parent, but I think it was somewhere between the third outfit change of the day (mine, not the baby’s) and the time I cried in the pediatrician’s parking lot because my newborn hadn’t pooped in two days. Or maybe it was the moment I realized I had spent forty-five minutes reading online arguments about pacifiers. Either way, the message came through loud and clear: this job doesn’t come with gold stars.

Parenting a baby is a master class in humility. You go in with plans. You read the books. You watch the videos. You think, “I’m going to do this right.” Then life (and your baby) shrugs and says, “That’s cute.”

The Myth We All Buy Into

Let’s be honest. Most of us walk into parenthood carrying a suitcase full of expectations. Some of them we packed ourselves, others we inherited from our parents, our friends, or the internet. We expect to breastfeed (or not) without stress. We expect to sleep-train like a ninja or co-sleep like a goddess. We expect to nail every milestone and always respond with gentle patience and maybe a Pinterest-worthy nursery backdrop.

What we don’t expect is the sheer volume of decisions, many of them conflicting, all of them urgent. Cloth or disposable? Swaddle or not? Let them cry or soothe them back to sleep every single time? There’s no shortage of opinions. And somehow, every decision feels like it has the weight of your child’s entire future attached to it.

It’s exhausting. And unfair. Because no matter what you choose, someone will disagree. And worse, you’ll probably disagree with yourself—at 3 a.m., under a dim nightlight, with spit-up on your shirt and Google open on your phone. That’s the part nobody warns you about. It’s not just external judgment. It’s the internal monologue, the one that whispers, Are you sure you’re doing this right?

The Hard-Won Lesson of Grace

Here’s the truth I had to learn the hard way: you can’t logic your way into being the perfect parent. You can’t research yourself out of doubt. You can only show up, day after day, and do your best with the tools you’ve got. Sometimes that means doing things differently than you thought you would. Sometimes it means changing course halfway through the week. And sometimes it means letting your baby nap in the swing while you drink cold coffee and stare into the void for a few minutes.

Giving yourself grace isn’t a nice bonus. It’s a survival strategy. You are learning how to care for a brand new human while you yourself are a slightly broken, very tired, stretched-thin human. You’re both growing. And growth is messy.

I remember once agonizing over whether to introduce solids at five months or six. I consulted the pediatrician, my mom, three different parenting blogs, and a friend from college whose baby always seemed to be ahead of the curve. You’d think I was preparing for a national exam. Eventually, I just tried mashed avocado one afternoon and my son smeared it on the dog’s head. The moment passed, no lives were ruined, and the world kept turning.

That’s how most things go, by the way. Most of these “huge” decisions fade into the background. What sticks around are the memories—the giggles, the cuddles, the moments when your baby locks eyes with you and smiles like you’re the best thing they’ve ever seen. They don’t care that you fumbled the nap schedule. They care that you’re there.

There’s More Than One Right Way

One of the most freeing things I’ve learned is that there is almost always more than one right answer in parenting. What works for one baby might completely flop for another. What worked last month might be a disaster today. You’re not failing. You’re adapting.

The sooner we let go of this idea that there’s a single perfect path, the more room we have to actually enjoy the ride. Yes, you’ll make mistakes. You’ll lose your temper. You’ll put your baby in front of a screen so you can shower. You’ll cry because the diaper exploded and there are no more clean onesies. These moments don’t define you. They’re part of the story.

And guess what? Your baby isn’t keeping score. They don’t know if you used the “right” bottle or the “wrong” brand of wipes. They know your arms. They know your voice. They know you’re trying, even on the days when you feel like a disaster in yoga pants.

So here’s my advice, from one imperfect parent to another: take a breath. Take a break. Unfollow the accounts that make you feel like you’re behind. Talk to people who remind you that love matters more than a flawless routine. And when in doubt, put the baby in the stroller, go for a walk, and remember that this too shall pass—even if it’s passing like a kidney stone.

Parenting isn’t about perfection. It’s about connection. It’s about showing up, wiping noses, re-heating coffee, and doing the best you can with the energy you’ve got. And on the days when that feels like not enough, it probably is more than you think.

You’re not supposed to be perfect. You’re supposed to be there. And you are. That’s the win.