Parenting Insights
When my first child was just three weeks old, I found myself reaching out to a lactation consultant. “Is it, um, typical for him to cry for hours on end? Because he does, and I’m just curious, is that considered normal? Is that just what newborns do?” She took a moment before responding, “No, it’s not normal.” That was all she said. There were no further explanations, no guidance on how to handle the situation, and she didn’t mention colic or reflux. I was left in a state of confusion, questioning how I might have already failed as a parent. My baby wasn’t “normal.”
This marked the beginning of my complex relationship with the term “normal” in parenting. “Please tell me this is normal,” my friends and I frequently inquire of one another. These words carry heavy implications. What we are really asking is: Am I doing this right? Am I overlooking something crucial? Should I be contacting a pediatrician or a psychologist? Do I need to relax? Is this just a phase, or is it something more serious?
I strive to be a confident parent, but the challenges are immense in today’s world. I often find myself envious of my mother’s parenting style, which seemed straightforward and universally accepted. Back in the ’70s, parenting appeared less fraught with self-doubt. As a new parent, it felt like everyone had an opinion on my choices. Breastfeeding or using disposable diapers became more than personal preferences—it felt like a political statement. Choosing organic foods or BPA-free bottles turned into a class issue. The toys our children played with, whether cheap plastic imports or high-end, eco-friendly options, reflected our parenting quality. Now that my children are older, I grapple with concerns over test preparations, school choices, and extracurricular activities. Regardless of my decisions, I often feel scrutinized.
However, I’ve discovered that the most challenging aspects of parenting aren’t the tangible choices like diaper types or feeding methods. Instead, they are the unspoken, intangible struggles we face. One of my children, for example, was particularly difficult at three years old. He would have intense meltdowns that left me feeling helpless; I often had to physically restrain him just to keep myself safe until he calmed down. That’s not a conversation you casually bring up at playdates or social gatherings. “Hey, does anyone else have a child who gets violent with them? Did you find time-outs to be ineffective when the child is trying to bite you?”
Similarly, when I realized that one of my sons genuinely needed speech therapy, I struggled to share that with friends. “Oh, we can’t make it to playgroup because… well, my husband and I can’t understand a single word coming from our child’s mouth, and although he looks older, he sounds like a toddler, so he has to attend therapy weekly.” People often become uncomfortable discussing a child needing “HELP,” even for something as common as speech therapy. It seems we’re expected to hide our children’s struggles—or our own. Meanwhile, I wrestle with my own thoughts: Does my child’s speech delay stem from that emergency induction I had at 37 weeks? If I had gone to the hospital sooner, would he be okay? Is this within the range of normal developmental issues? Will he eventually speak clearly enough that no one will ever know he went through this?
Over the years, I have worried about countless issues—both minor and significant. Is it normal that one child struggled with reading fluency and wrote letters and numbers backward well into kindergarten? Should I be concerned that a three-year-old experiences night terrors? Is it typical that he still does at age eight? Is it normal for one son to be overly fascinated with his own anatomy while the other shows no interest? Is it normal that one child cannot handle losing at a game and loses control if he even falls behind? Is it typical for another to be so defiant that no punishment seems to affect him? Is it normal for a child to express daily anxiety about me potentially not picking him up from school? And what about me—am I normal for losing my temper too quickly, crying easily, or worrying excessively?
I’ve learned that “normal” has a broad spectrum concerning children, and parenting resembles more of a literary analysis than a mathematical equation. Rather than having a single correct answer, I reflect, experiment, and interpret my parenting journey repeatedly until I find my own perspective and solutions. My parenting approach resembles an essay question rather than a straightforward problem to solve. Yet, similar to some of my college English courses, I sometimes encounter material that overwhelms me, leaving me feeling adrift. It’s during these moments that I feel the most isolated. I must discern who I can trust with my honest inquiries and who won’t judge me or my children for our perceived shortcomings. It’s essential to find those who won’t criticize me for asking questions in the first place. During these times, I crave reassurance that my experiences are “normal.”
The true anxiety creeps in at night, preventing restful sleep: what if this situation is not normal? What does that mean? Can I make it better? Ultimately, when I plead, “Tell me this is normal,” what I’m really asking is, “Please don’t let me ruin the lives of the most important people in my world.”
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In summary, understanding what is considered “normal” in parenting can be complex. As parents, we often find ourselves questioning our decisions and the behaviors of our children. Seeking reassurance is a common experience, and we must navigate these challenges while fostering an environment of openness and support.
Keyphrase: Understanding Normal in Parenting
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