We didn’t mean to become revolutionaries. It happened slowly, like the way our babies drifted to sleep at the breast – unplanned, natural, right.

First came the late-night Google searches:

“Is it okay to breastfeed my baby to sleep?”

“Will my child ‘fall behind’ if they don’t read by age 5?”

“How to explain gentle parenting to grandparents?”

We smile now at our early uncertainties, at how far we’ve come from those first tentative steps. Our homes transformed without us noticing. Those carefully chosen cribs became artistic displays for stuffed animals (or more likely, storage for unfolded laundry), while our king-sized beds grew into family islands – some connected to twins, others sprawled onto floor mattresses, all expanding like our hearts to hold more love than we thought possible.

The warnings came, of course: “Don’t hold her too much, she’ll get used to it.”

(She did. We did. No regrets.)

Our kitchens tell our stories now—simple whole foods, counters cleared of artificial everything, homemade remedies in ice cube trays. Our medicine cabinets speak a different language now, our children learning early to trust in nature’s wisdom.

“Just put some breastmilk on it” becomes our answer to life’s little hurts, while others whisper about our “strange” ways.

Some of us birthed in water

Some in our kitchens

Some while nursing another child through contractions

Some surrendered to belly births with grace and power

All of us finding our strength, our way

We threw away our watches those first few months, letting our babies become our timekeepers. We learned to trust their rhythms, their wisdom. Our “schedule” became simply listening – to their cues, to our hearts, to what felt right.

Our little ones lived in slings and wraps, our “little kangaroos” held close. Some of us never understood the fuss about travel systems or nurseries—our babies’ place was with us, skin to skin, heart to heart. They’re teaching us to parent without fear, without clocks, without the “shoulds” that used to weigh so heavy.

When others see tantrums, we see big feelings in small bodies. We’ve found our quiet confidence in these moments, knowing our children aren’t “being naughty” – they’re learning about themselves and their world, needing our loving guidance to regulate. We sit with the storm, offering connection instead of correction. No time-outs needed, no sticker charts required – just presence, patience, and the courage to parent through the hard moments with love.

Our children’s bare feet know the feeling of grass and earth. “Where are their shoes?” they ask. We smile, knowing freedom looks wild sometimes. Our playrooms might seem empty to others, but we’ve seen the magic that happens with less – cardboard boxes becoming castles, imagination flourishing in the space we’ve created by choosing less.

We choose our children’s learning paths as thoughtfully as we chose their births – some of us finding home in Waldorf or Montessori, others creating forest schools in our backyards, some homeschooling, some embracing local schools while staying true to our values. We trust in our children’s innate desire to learn and grow, knowing each will unfold in their own perfect time.

This isn’t about fitting in to someone else’s idea of what parenting should look like.

It’s about belonging – truly belonging – by being exactly who we are, parenting exactly the children in front of us, not the ones in the books or the ones society expects. We’re reclaiming our inner voice – that bold, courageous roar of motherhood that society tried to quiet to a whisper.

This isn’t a parenting style.

It’s not a checkbox list of must-dos. It’s a return to what feels natural, what our bodies and babies know is right. It’s trusting that our children come with their own wisdom, their own timing, their own perfect way of being.

We’re learning to parent from a place of love, not fear. To see parenting as a relationship, not a set of strategies. To remain open-minded, flexible, and curious on this journey. To love our children unconditionally for who they are, not what they do.

And yes, sometimes it means…

Taking safe, gradual approaches to transitions.

Explaining gentle parenting to bewildered grandparents.

Adding yet another mattress to the family bed.

Watching our children develop in their own time.

Finding strength we never knew we had.

Being the “weird one” who still nurses a toddler.

Having either been pregnant or breastfeeding since forever.

But mostly, it means learning to trust. Trust our instincts. Trust our children. Trust that this path, though less traveled, leads exactly where we need to go.

To the new mother googling “is it okay to breastfeed to sleep?” at 3 AM – yes, it is.

To the parent being questioned about their family bed – you’re not alone.

To the one wondering if they’re doing it right – you are.

This is your parenthood. Your journey. Your love story.

And it’s perfect, just as it is.