Why I Hate The Word “Fine” When It Comes To My Children

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Fine makes me feel sick inside. Fine is what you say when someone asks you how your day is going and it’s not really that great but you don’t know them well enough to share the details. Fine is what you say after you survive a week of the flu and someone asks you how you are feeling. You’re not really back to being yourself, but you know you’re getting there so you say “I’m fine.” Fine is the word I use when a parent asks me how their kid is doing in my class and I know he’s not succeeding but he’s trying so I don’t want them to think it’s a total failure. I just say “Oh, he’s doing fine.” Fine doesn’t mean good. Fine means okay. It means I’m not really that great but it’s not bad enough for me to complain or have obvious outward scars, so it doesn’t matter.

Fine is NOT the word I want to use to describe my son. I want him to be so much better than fine. I don’t want him to be just okay or “good enough.” I want him to be great. I want him to feel great. I want him to be happy, truly happy not the kind of fake happy we pretend to be when we smile at strangers on the sidewalk.  

I worry a lot about the choices I am making for him. From the moment I discovered I was pregnant, I began reading and researching. I gathered scientific, peer-reviewed data, personal stories from friends and family, and I prayed every day. I wanted to make the best decisions I could possibly make for him. I wasn’t concerned with the “popular choice.” I wasn’t concerned with whether or not my friends would think I was strange. I just wanted to do everything I could to make the best choice for the little one growing inside of me, depending on me to get it right.

It terrifies me that one of the choices I have had to make for him will turn out to have been the wrong one. What if somewhere down the road science discovers that it was wrong, as they often have. What if one of the decisions I based on the best research available was the wrong choice? I’m afraid that one day I will have to stand before my son and answer for a choice I made that he has to live with. How will I answer him if it’s my fault? 

I will say: I prayed to God before I made that choice. I did the research and I double checked it. I studied until I was absolutely certain, absolutely confident that I was making the best possible choice at that time and in that situation.  I did everything in my power to be as informed as I could be. I did everything that I could to make the right choice for you. 

I will apologize for not making the right choice for him. I will apologize for being human, for making a mistake. I will ask for his forgiveness. 

If I didn’t spend so much time trying to make sure I make the best choice, not just an okay choice, I wouldn’t be able to honestly say those things to him. I would know it was a lie. It would haunt me for the rest of my life. 

I don’t think all the well-meaning friends and relatives can say that. They are not the ones who will have to answer for the choices made. They are not the ones who will have to look my son in the eye and answer for his hurt if a mistake is made. They mean well. They are trying to help. They are trying to ease my conscience. 

But fine isn’t good enough. Fine will never be good enough. He deserves so much better than fine. All of our children do. 

Written by: Sara Parise

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