I promised myself that my children would never go through what I went through while growing up.
I promised myself that my children would never go through what I went through while growing up.
Growing up wasn’t easy.
I was an orphan.
My childhood was spent moving from one auntie’s house to another, surviving wherever someone was willing to keep me. If you’ve ever lived with relatives, then you already know what that life feels like.
Some people appreciate you.
Some simply tolerate you.
Others see you as free labour.
So I learned very early that if I wanted a place to sleep, I had to earn it. I swept, washed clothes, cleaned dishes, fetched water, cooked anything that would make them feel I wasn’t a burden.
I knew what it felt like to cry silently because you didn’t have a place you could truly call home.
Those experiences broke me in many ways.
And one day, I made myself a promise.
“If God blesses me with children, they will never experience the life I lived.”
That promise became my life’s mission.
By God’s grace, I struggled through school. There were days I practically trained myself in the university, but somehow, God saw me through.
Then I got married.
Not just to a good man…
God blessed me with an amazing husband.
A caring man.
A loving man.
A wealthy man.
Sometimes I tell people that it felt as though God was compensating me for every painful chapter of my childhood.
For the first time in my life, I enjoyed comfort.
We had washing machines, modern appliances, domestic help everything that made life easier.
When our children started coming, that promise I made years ago came rushing back.
“I will never allow my children to suffer the way I suffered.”
I held onto those words so tightly that they became the foundation of how I raised my children.
We had people who came several times every week to clean the house.
We also had a young girla relative from my husband’s family living with us.
Without realizing it, I allowed her to do almost every household chore while my own children did absolutely nothing.
I thought I was protecting them.
Every morning before breakfast, instead of deciding what everyone would eat, I would gather my three children and ask each of them,
“What do you want to eat today?”
One wanted spaghetti.
Another wanted rice with banga soup.
The last one wanted pounded yam with ofe nsala.
Instead of preparing one meal for everyone, I would enter the kitchen and cook three completely different meals.
To me, it wasn’t stress.
I was simply trying to give my children the childhood I never had.
One evening my husband came home and watched me cooking different meals for everyone.
He looked at me and asked,
“Why are you doing this?”
I smiled and said,
“I just want my children to enjoy life.”
He became quiet before saying,
“This isn’t the best way to raise children.”
I didn’t like hearing that.
In my mind, I thought he didn’t understand.
I felt he wanted my children to experience hardship.
What he didn’t know was that every decision I made came from a wounded little girl who never had enough.
At that time, my husband had just been transferred back home after working in another state for several years.
For the first time, he was seeing how I was raising the children.
Our first son was already seven years old.
He couldn’t wash a plate.
Our daughter was five.
She couldn’t sweep the floor.
None of them knew how to make their beds.
None of them knew basic responsibilities.
I had become so focused on protecting them from hardship that I forgot to prepare them for life.
One night, my husband woke me up and asked me a question I’ll never forget.
“Do you regret everything you went through while growing up?”
Without thinking, I answered,
“Yes.”
“It was painful.”
“It was terrible.”
“I wouldn’t wish that life on anybody.”
He nodded.
Then he quietly said something that completely changed my life.
“Do you know that those same experiences made you the woman you are today?”
“They taught you discipline.”
“They taught you resilience.”
“They taught you gratitude.”
“Now you’re trying so hard to protect our children from every discomfort that you’re denying them the opportunity to develop those same qualities.”
Then he looked at me and said words that pierced my heart.
“You’re not helping them… you’re hurting them.”
Silence filled the room.
For the first time, I saw what I had refused to see.
I wasn’t raising capable children.
I was raising comfortable children.
There is a huge difference.
That night I cried.
Not because my husband insulted me…
But because I realized he was right.
I apologized to him.
I told him,
“I’ve made a mistake.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
He smiled and held my hands.
“We’ll do it together.”
From that day, everything changed.
We started assigning little responsibilities.
Making their beds.
Washing their plates.
Cleaning their rooms.
Arranging their clothes.
Later, I taught my daughter how to cook.
I taught my sons how to wash their own clothes.
We also stopped saying “yes” to everything.
They needed to understand that life doesn’t always give you what you want.
Sometimes you hear “No.”
Sometimes you lose.
Sometimes you wait.
Sometimes you fail.
And that’s okay.
Because the world outside our home isn’t always kind.
Our home should be a place of love not a place that leaves children unprepared for reality.
Looking back today, I thank God every single day that my husband was transferred back home.
If he hadn’t come back when he did, I honestly believe I would have raised children who depended on everyone else to survive.
Motherhood taught me one lesson I’ll never forget.
Many of us are trying so hard to heal our own childhood wounds through our children that we accidentally create new problems for them.
We say,
“I don’t want my child to suffer like I suffered.”
So we remove every challenge.
Every responsibility.
Every disappointment.
Every lesson.
Without realizing that those very experiences are often what build character.
Your child’s journey is not your journey.
God didn’t place that child in your hands so you could protect them from life.
He entrusted that child to you so you could prepare them for life.
Your assignment isn’t to remove every obstacle.
Your assignment is to build a child who can overcome obstacles.
Today, my children are responsible, disciplined, independent and compassionate.
Not because life became easier for them…
But because we finally understood that love isn’t measured by how much you do for your children.
Love is measured by how well you prepare them to stand on their own when you’re no longer there.
As the Bible says,
“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”
That scripture doesn’t say to make life easy for a child.
It says to train a child.
And training has never been comfortable—but it always produces strength.
Moral 1: Don’t let the pain of your past make you overprotect your children. Raising responsible children is a greater gift than giving them a comfortable life.
Moral 2: Good parenting isn’t about removing every struggle from a child’s path. It’s about equipping them with the wisdom, discipline, and resilience to face life confidently when you’re no longer there.
Lastly, family is a team work for couples. If you must raise good children, you must be in the same page with your partner.
Read more beautiful stories… 👇🏾👇🏾
My husband stopped helping me out the moment I started taking him for granted.