Before I had Edwin, I would have made a compelling argument for childhoods that challenge. I’m not in favor of near-insurmountable challenges, such as extreme poverty, abuse or abandonment, of course. But hardships such as bullying, injuries, rejection from sports teams, struggles in school? Those are the difficulties that test kids, and since kids are more resilient than adults often give them credit for, they’re likely to learn quite a bit and become stronger individuals after their struggles. If adults get in the way of those struggles, by trying to solve the problem themselves, or by not trusting children to get through it in a self-directed manner, I think kids miss out on valuable character-shaping opportunities.

I believe all this because of my own history. Having cancer as a teenager shaped and strengthened me hugely, but that wasn’t the only childhood challenge I faced.

In elementary school, I was always, ALWAYS picked last in gym class, and it was an experience so humiliating that I’d feel increasingly sick as I anticipated each class. However, those feelings only made me feel more powerful, more validated, when later in life I discovered that I could be good at and enjoy non-sports-oriented exercise, and even worked as a fitness trainer for awhile.

In middle school, I was bullied on the school bus; I was called “nerd-girl” for reading a book, and I was even slapped once by an older girl. That experience taught me that the world was a scary, uncontrollable place, but I also learned to embrace my “nerdy” self, and I didn’t stop reading books on the bus.

In high school, my private flute teacher laughed at me when I told her I wanted to be in the top performing wind ensemble and orchestra in my high school, one of the best music schools in the state. She told me I’d never be good enough. That made me determined to prove her wrong. I switched teachers, practiced hard, and got into the wind ensemble the following year. I even went on to be the principal flutist of my college wind ensemble. (I always wanted to let her know how wrong she’d been, but somewhere along the way, it stopped mattering.) I might not have worked so hard if someone hadn’t told me I couldn’t do it.

My childhood challenges, in retrospect, helped me to strengthen and grow. What’s more, I continue to find evidence to support the fact that hardship builds success in life. Malcolm Gladwell’s books Outliers and David and Goliath are excellent references. Most of the greatest success stories in history, like David of the famed biblical story, had challenges to overcome.

But… but I don’t want Edwin to be bullied. Or injured, or left behind, or laughed at. I certainly don’t want to watch him suffer through a life-threatening illness. No one wants those things for their child. Edwin is only (almost) two, and I already feel my heart break when he gets frustrated over tiny things, like climbing onto the couch. What am I going to do when he’s facing life’s bullies? Am I going to stick by my belief that hardships can be good for him, and trust him to get through it and be better for it? Or am I going to “helicopter” the hell out of him, making sure he stays safe from possible emotional harm?

That’s a question for my future parenting self to answer, but in the meantime, it’s good to remind myself to keep trying to see the big picture of Edwin’s childhood, instead of focusing on each inevitable bump in the road.