Jay Rerekura: With hard decisions to make, our rangatahi should focus on their happiness

Big life choices await our rangatahi, but they should take care of their wellbeing first, says Jay Rerekura. Photo / Bevan Conley

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In a couple of months' time, my baby girl will have turned 18.

She's pretty much finished her "pre-life" training and with a little bit of luck, still wants to hang out with her Mama and Papa for a little bit.

I look back on life as we know it, from the time she was even an idea 'till right now. It's all such a blur. A mere fraction of a speck in the timeline of our universe, but a huge milestone in our journey through life.

I won't bore you too much about how her Mama and I met … I mean, it's not boring actually. I just value my life, so I'll keep that story for when she's not in earshot. But now that I think about it, it was a courtship really. A feeling out (figuratively). Started off as friends and now we're here! But a couple of years after the courtship, we found ourselves the proud new Mama and Papa of a beautiful porcelain, dreadlocked (I had dreads at the time and she came out with them too so no DNA test required), almost alien-like kōtiro named for the time of morning before the first light.

Born by caesarean section, I had been laughing and joking with her Mama as the trained
professionals jiggled her around helping our daughter find the exit of Te Whare Tangata. I
attempted to have a look beyond the veil they had blocking all the gory details, but didn't have the guts in the end.

Then I heard her first karanga. Love at first sound. Love at first sight. Love at first
smell even. All those words, a mere understatement of the actual emotions coursing through me at the time. I was so cavalier, so unbothered leading up to this moment.

Arrogantly, I thought I knew what that moment was going to feel like. I thought I knew what it would be like when our mātāmua, our firstborn came into this world. But, nothing could prepare me for that moment. She reduced me to a blubbering mess in front of all the hospital staff - but that was only because she was holding Kryptonite when she came out …

Over the years, she has grown and matured. She's had ups and downs. She's learnt about love and loss and all those things that make us human. But what she's learnt in the past 18 years does not come close to comparing what she has taught us as parents. Or even just older humans.

She has become less and less my baby girl and more and more her own person.

Jay Rerekura remembers laughing and joking as his daughter was born by caesarean section before backing out of watching the operation. Photo / Supplied

Intelligent and beautiful like her Papa, dopey and eggy like her Mama but her own person through and through. Before her brother was born, I thought I only had enough love for her. I was actually worried about not having enough love for anyone else, but her brother and she taught me that it comes from an endless kete of aroha.

We nearly lost her once. I'll spare you the details. She was 10 years old. It was the hardest thing I had ever been through. It was the hardest thing any of my whole whānau had to go through. That moment changed me.

Just like when she was born, I had this big idea in my head about being strong and being able to protect my whānau no matter what and it all got washed away. I was not
as strong as I thought. I couldn't protect my whānau no matter what and I was fairly insignificant in the whole scheme of things.

It was learning and it was growth.

Now, we're having all the conversations about higher learning, work, life … all the important stuff. It reminds me that not too long ago I was having those thoughts and ponderings myself. It also reminded me that at my own age, I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up.

So I feel sorry for our rangatahi, our young people who are now in that phase of making decisions about things that could change the course of their whole life. I don't know that my advice in this space has any value, but I encourage her and others at this stage of life to focus on their happiness.

To do the thing that they love. To put their own wellbeing above and beyond the wants and needs of "others" because you're no good to anyone if your own wellbeing is lacking.

My baby girl is growing into a woman and all I know is she is good, she is kind and she is
beautiful. She will have trials and tribulations. She will have success and happiness. Beyond that, the only constant I know is that I will always love her more than she will ever know and I will always be proud of her no matter what.