Who Owns the Story?

One of my favorite things in my life is being a parent. One of my favorite topics to write about is parenthood. I started this blog when my youngest was born, and will have been writing off and on for 11 years this summer. I love capturing memories and small details that may otherwise disappear in time. I love pondering what it means to be a parent. I love going deeper, trying to nail down emotions on paper. It fulfills me in a way few activities do.

But my story of being a parent is tightly wound into the story of my children's lives. As they grow older, I find myself with a mounting urgency to document details in all of their grandeur, and an intense warning pull to back away. There are many blogs devoted to the lives of parents of babies and toddlers. There are few written words from parents of teenagers. Being a parent is not less intense, meaningful, or thought-provoking as our children grow older. But our story is wrapped up into our children's own stories.

Some people are much better at recognizing that their children's story is their own at a very young age. I know many who do not post pictures of their children on social media to protect their privacy. Others are much more careful not to share the gritty underbelly of daily lives. I undoubtedly fall on the spectrum of oversharing too much, of publishing details that are not mine to share, of writing about instances that are not my story to tell.

We own our story. But whenever other people are involved, they own the story, too. And I want to be more cognizant of that distinction.