Conflict Lessons I've Learned as a Mom

I hold the belief that our life is our story and our story is our legacy. Mother's Day always brings me back to the story I've been writing for decades—the one with the most challenging plot, the most complex characters, and a community of editors to help me revise the rough patches. As a mediator, I help others navigate their narratives of conflict, but my most profound lessons came from the chapters of motherhood.

I learned what love was in a way I couldn't ever have fathomed. The kind of love that leaves room for (mutually) the biggest frustrations, repeated disappointments, constant toe-stepping and still remains fierce. I learned that love is so big that with time and choosing the next right thing along the way, it can overcome almost any obstacle. Even when I felt I'd made irreparable mistakes, love created space for healing and growth. I learned that you love other people more than you ever thought possible.

I learned what pure trust looks like because my littles believed me so completely. That trust is humbling, beautiful, and terrifying all at once.  It’s so easy to break and so complicated to create.

I learned how to work much of the time without a break, paycheck, positive feedback or appreciation because the love, joy and honor of raising a new life was enough – for now.

I learned improv. I learned that though my kids thought I was in charge, and indeed, I gave that illusion, I was really powerless and prayed all the time that my kids wouldn't call my bluff and say, "make me." Parental authority is the most elaborate fiction we maintain—we're all just hoping nobody notices we're making it up as we go.

I learned it would have been nice had they come with an owner's manual, but I never could find one. Each child required a different approach that I couldn't anticipate or control and most of the times my big "wins," when I got it right in a big way, were just pure luck.

I learned to ask for help and how important community was. I learned I couldn't fill all of the needs and expertise in their life and finding the people who could fill those gaps would help us all grow. A community raises our kids, not a mom, so choosing that community is important.

I learned everything is not the mother's fault. (I didn't learn that so much as proclaim that.)

I learned to play. Being a mom gave me opportunity to have the childhood I didn't have. Play is what bonds me to my grandchildren, too.

I learned how to look into the mirror my children held up, and how hard it could be to see that reflection. Nothing exposes your flaws quite like hearing your own words echoed back in your child's voice or for them to tell you where your actions are falling short of your words.

I've learned about abundance vs scarcity. When I thought I had nothing left to give, the well was always deeper and indeed I had more.

I learned that I thought I was always right—or at least that's what I was told repeatedly during those teenage years. I already knew my kids wouldn't understand how hard it is to be a mom until they became parents themselves. That's one thing I was definitely right about. They've learned I was "right" more than they thought.

Speaking of "right," I learned that relationship is always more important than being right, and that I, as the parent, needed to model that. Sometimes this meant swallowing my pride and admitting I was wrong, even when every fiber of my being wanted to stand my ground.

I learned that each child is terribly unique and should be treated that way. Their needs, love languages, and triggers were as different as their fingerprints. My standardized parenting manual quickly went out the window.

I learned how to forgive and be forgiven over and over again. The cycle of hurt, apology, forgiveness, and repair played out countless times in our home. These were my first lessons in restorative practices, long before I studied them formally. I’m still working on forgiving myself.

I learned how challenging, fragile, important, beautiful, scary, exhausting, thrilling, heart-wrenching, and soul-expanding being a mother is. No single word could contain all these emotions.

I remember being at work one day and saying that when my two oldest (then 2 and 3 years old) could tie their own shoes, my life would be so much easier. A colleague said that no, the older they get the harder it gets. I remember thinking that was a cynical, negative thought. Nope. It's true. I still can't quite name why.

I learned that their reality and experience are much different than mine, yet theirs is not wrong—and neither is mine and how to make space for both.

I learned how hard it is to watch children make mistakes as they grow, and what it's like to remind myself that mistakes are how we develop and how character is born.

I learned that letting go is bittersweet. Each milestone brought pride mingled with an ache that's hard to describe unless you've felt it.  I’ve learned I’d choose the chaos over the quiet.

I learned that of everything I've done in my life, being a mom to this group is the only thing that truly mattered. It's the thing I'm most proud of—that all of us together created something called a family. Imperfect, challenging in both good and bad ways, but also connected, full of laughter with a shared history that includes "remember the time Mom..." stories that will outlive me.

I see the circle of life unfolding. We hold their hands and lead at the beginning, then for a season we walk together, and ultimately, we hold their hands again, yet they are the ones leading. And the circle continues as I put a piece of myself into the next generation so they tell their stories too. 

I read something once, “No, I don’t love my grandchildren more than you.  I love them because they remind me of you.”  Now my grandchildren look at me with that same nonjudgmental, pure love that my children once did, offering a second chance to experience that unconditional acceptance. It fills a gap that comes with our kids starting their own lives and families.

Perhaps most importantly, I learned that the conflict skills I teach professionally—active listening, empathy, honesty, negotiation, transparency, taking responsibility—were all lessons I practiced imperfectly but persistently in my own home first. My children were my first and most important teachers in conflict resolution, though I doubt they'll ever put that on their resumes.

Happy Mother's Day to all of us, every single one who has ever had a “Mom role”,  still writing our stories every day.

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/conflict-lessons-ive-learned-mom-kimberly-fdshe