Parental love can manifest itself in a variety of ways, including silent sacrifices, difficult decisions, and unsaid courage in the most trying circumstances. The tales in this collection serve as a reminder that although this type of love is profoundly real, it isn’t always obvious or simple. Even when life takes unexpected turns, each one demonstrates the strong bond that exists between parents and their children.

I had to stay in the hospital because I gave birth too soon and my baby was in the NICU. My spouse was constantly complimenting me on our baby’s perfection.
I asked the nurse if I could finally see my child two weeks later. “Don’t you know that your baby didn’t make it?” she said, turning pale. Your daughter passed away shortly after birth, so your husband never saw her. I went cold. It completely upended my world.

My husband started crying when I asked him. He said that in order to keep me safe, he had lied. He was aware of how much this child meant to me, and I was already at risk. He was afraid that if I found out, I wouldn’t live.
I was genuinely heartbroken. And perhaps he made the correct decision after all. My motivation to survive and get through those hospital days came from the prospect of seeing my baby. I had given her the name Eva.
My mother assured me that she would always love and support me, regardless of what I did. She would still help me solve any problems I created for myself while also allowing me to learn from my mistakes. That is not to say she wouldn’t tell me when I made mistakes—she did.
That meant that whenever I was young and in need of assistance, I always went to her rather than some other teenagers. I never felt judged, and I was only slightly scared to tell her when I made a mistake. I’m trying my hardest to develop a relationship like that with my own daughters. © Reddit/actuallyidon’tthinkso

My dad used to get really excited about very inexpensive, everyday foods like unflavored steel-cut oats, bologna sandwiches, and plain puffed rice cereal. He would get us all excited about it, and because he talked it up so much, we would want to eat it rather than the more costly items we truly desired.
I don’t think he truly loved all of these things that much now that I’m older and a father myself. Rather, my parents simply lacked the funds to purchase all of that pricey food in order to feed their three developing boys. © Reddit/Rebelsoul3480
For much of my childhood, my dad spent twelve hours a day, seven days a week, working at two different hospitals. When on vacation, the man would become ill; he referred to it as “motionless sickness.” He still got up a few hours early, though, and made breakfast for my sister and me before school.
He was a child at heart, a firm believer in hard work, and he set a lot of examples for me. I love him, but I’m not sure how he did it. © Reddit / TurtleFisher54

To support me as a child and young adult, my parents gave up their own interests, hobbies, time, friends, and careers. Whatever they were doing, they were always there for me when I needed them.
They provide me with tremendous support in all of my endeavors. They are quick to impart their knowledge and insights. Even if I disregarded their advice, they have never looked down on me or judged me when I had to learn a lesson the hard way. They have served as friends, mentors, instructors, and advisors. © Reddit / Minimalcharges

No matter what, my parents were always there for me. They never made me feel bad about attending art school, they always welcomed me, and when I was in a bad spot, my mother promised to sell her house if it meant taking care of me.
She was fortunate not to have to do that, but it definitely solidified for me the importance of family and unconditional love. © Reddit/AmberFall92

We lived close to a freeway when I was a child. On one occasion, I asked my mother how far the freeway extended and where we would end up if we simply got on it and continued driving.
She was holding a map. Did she let me see it? Not at all. “Let us see,” she said.
After hours of driving until we were both exhausted, we got in the car and looked at the map to find a way home along the shore of one of the Great Lakes in the United States. Before cellphones and GPS, this was in the 1980s.
She let me find my way home when I was maybe ten. She wanted me to know, even though she could have told me or shown me on the map without getting up from the couch. © Reddit/Panic_Azimuth

Out of five children, I’m the youngest. Although my mother never mentioned it, I knew she had miscarried before my eldest sister. Because of her upbringing, she is a very private person who never discusses anything that has ever caused her pain.
But she spoke to me after I lost my baby. She spoke to me a lot. More than anything, I needed it. She claimed that her miscarriage didn’t make sense until that very moment, 47 years later. I needed someone to turn to, so I did. © Reddit/dindia91

Since I was seven years old and my sister was seventeen, my mother, who was an artist, would set up sketchbooks, paints, pencils, and other art supplies and spend the day creating art with us.
However, after she passed away a few years later, we stopped. My wife and I now treat our daughter in the same way. © Reddit/Unknown author

My parents weren’t upset or furious when I failed my first year of college. When I was crying uncontrollably in embarrassment, my mother sat down beside me and gave me a hug until I stopped crying. She assured me that my life would not end and that she was and would always be proud of me. © Reddit/forgetful-giraffe

My mother was the only good parent I had. Because I’ve had two stepdads, I say it that way. Despite the fact that we had nothing, she was an excellent mother. We occasionally went without electricity and water, and paying the rent was difficult.
I was unaware that there was a problem because my mother always reassured me that everything was fine and never gave me any reason to worry or panic. Although I went without most of the time because my mother never saw life negatively, I had wonderful memories and a happy childhood. © Reddit/Unknown author
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