Raising Resilience: Why I Chose a Parenting Style Built for Crisis, Courage, and Unshakeable Love

There are a lot of things people assume about parenting. They assume it should look a certain way, feel a certain way, sound a certain way. They assume there’s a rule book tucked somewhere between the diaper bag and the teenage eye rolls. But the truth is simple: parenting isn’t one size fits all. Parenting is personal. Parenting is lived. Parenting is shaped by the hands that held your babies and the storms you walked them through.

And for me, Dr. Silvermoon Cashen, parenting meant choosing a path that didn’t always make sense to other people, but made perfect sense to the children who needed me the most.

My parenting style has always been described as non-traditional. I’ve heard it all.
You care too much.
You’re too involved.
That isn’t how you’re supposed to parent.
You’re not raising friends; you’re raising adults.

And every time, I just smile because I know what they don’t.

I wasn’t raising children who had the luxury of a calm beginning. I was raising children who came from chaos, trauma, loss, and uncertainty. I adopted children whose lives had been one crisis after another, even though they were deeply loved. I welcomed children whose everyday existence demanded stability, consistency, and someone who would stay; no matter how messy, overwhelming, or emotional the moment.

So yes, I parent differently.

I’m not my children’s “friend.” But I am their friend in the middle of a crisis because for them, crisis was the only constant they had ever known.

My philosophy has always been simple:
When the world feels unsafe, my arms won’t be.
When their mistakes feel unforgivable, my love won’t be.
When their life unravels, I won’t.

And sometimes that philosophy showed up in the most unexpected ways.

There was a moment, one I still laugh about to this day, when one of my sons found himself in a situation with a police officer (Badge 783 and 584). He was on the phone with me as the officer questioned him, and I could hear the tension through the line. Then the officer said, with all the seriousness in the world:

“I’m not interested in your YouTube law degree.”

I’m not going to lie, I laughed. I laughed hard. Not because the situation was funny (trust me, I was not happy), but because if that officer truly thought my son was using a YouTube law degree, he was in for a surprise. My son wasn’t quoting YouTube. He was quoting my lawyer, word for word, because the entire time my son and I were talking, I was also texting the lawyer who was telling me exactly what to tell him.

And my son, bless his heart, repeated every bit of it with confidence. Not because he knew, because he trusted me! The person he called in the middle of his crises.

At one point my son told the officer, “I’m on the phone with my mom”, which was true.
But what he didn’t say was that it was actually a three way call between me, him, and the lawyer.

Let me be clear: I wasn’t proud of the situation. I was upset. I was disappointed. And my son and I had a very real, private conversation afterward about choices, accountability, and respect. In the moment, I am protecting my child!

But the truth is, that moment showed me something important.
It reminded me of why I parent the way I do.

Because sometimes your kids make mistakes.
Sometimes they panic.
Sometimes they’re scared.
Sometimes they don’t know what to say or do.

And in those moments, they don’t need judgment, they need guidance.

And sometimes that guidance comes in the form of the family lawyer who has known you for over two decades, who is on speed dial 24/7, and who shows up for your family because he knows you don’t abuse that access. He knows that if you reach out, day or night, it’s because you genuinely need help navigating something in real time.

So let me say this, for any attorney who operates like that, who stands by their clients the way mine has stood by my family: You are valued. You are appreciated. And your clients should never take you for granted. I certainly don’t.

People don’t always understand my parenting style. They say I’m “too much.” They say I’m “too emotional,” “too protective,” “too forgiving,” “too involved.”

But here’s the truth and I say this unapologetically:

I don’t care.

I don’t care because my parenting style worked.
I don’t care because my children are successful, productive, compassionate humans.
I don’t care because my children grew up knowing they were valued, seen, and supported.
I don’t care because they are alive, thriving, and building futures they once never believed they deserved.

And if the price I paid for that was sleepless nights, judgment from outsiders, or a few too many emergency phone calls… then so be it.

Because I would do it again.

I have raised incredible humans, biological and adopted, each with their own story, their own scars, their own victories. And now, with only one more baby left to guide into adulthood, I’m reminded that my role as “Mom” doesn’t end at 18. The raising part may slow down, but the loving part never will.

My children will always know this:

When life hits, I will be the one standing beside them.
When fear rises, I will hold the line.
When they forget who they are, I will remind them.
And when the world shakes, I will be their steady.

That’s my parenting style.
Non-traditional.
Unconventional.
Unapologetic.
And built on the purest foundation I know, resilience wrapped in love.

Because at the end of the day, my job wasn’t to be perfect.
My job was to be present.
My job was to be the home they could return to.
My job was to raise humans who could rise, again and again.

And I did that.

Rising from nothing.
Built by resilience.
Succeed on purpose.

That’s not just my story.
That’s the legacy my children carry with me as their mom.
And that’s the parenting style I will stand on for the rest of my life.