Photo by cottonbro studio

Outing oneself as a pediatrician in a social setting generally leads to a predictable set of responses, ninety percent of which involve pictures of rashes. But rather than inquiring what those red bumps on their kid’s foot signify, someone recently surprised me by asking about the impact being a pediatrician has had on my parenting.

It’s an interesting question when you stop to think about it: How does our profession shape our parenting? Do teacher’s kids have a greater affinity for learning? Are therapists’ kids more emotionally regulated? Are policemen’s kids more likely to follow the rules? Or just the opposite?

The other side of the coin, of course, is how our parenting shapes our professional lives.

Medicine Versus Parenting

In medicine, we can develop a tendency to see things in black-and-white. It’s understandable that we acquire this lens. We’re trained to think in algorithms and decision trees. The studies we look to for answers examine a narrowly defined set of questions in order to either confirm or reject a null hypothesis based on statistical probability. We follow guidelines with clear-cut recommendations for best practice: if this, then that. We like to think of medicine as a science when, of course, the truth is much more ambiguous. Although this black-and-white approach doesn’t concede the full spectrum that clinical scenarios present us with, we need these structured approaches to establish and uphold agreed upon standards of care.

In parenting, on the other hand, nothing is black-and-white. As every parent will tell you, things that worked yesterday don’t work today, strategies that yielded the desired effect in one sibling have the opposite effect on the other, sticker charts are rarely the answer, and we are faced with a constantly moving target as our kids grow and develop. Parenting is a lot like surfing blindfolded on a sea made of Jello.

But How?

When I had my son, the gaps between these two worlds of pediatrics and parenting became painfully evident.

Suddenly, so much of the advice I had been trained to give felt lacking the essential component of HOW? How exactly am I supposed to get my child to take this medicine that tastes like regurgitated garbage juice? How can I avoid co-bedding when my child will only sleep plastered across me like a beached starfish? How do I baby proof my home when my older children continuously shed small Lego pieces? How do I ensure my kids get the recommended amount of sleep when they eat so, so slowly and there are baths to be administered and teeth to be brushed and schoolwork to be reviewed and reading to be done- all within the hour and a half between getting home and their suggested bedtime? How do I calmly and patiently explain to my child that chucking my phone into the bathtub to check if it will float represents a lapse in judgement rather than screaming HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND at the top of my lungs?

The question of how is as central as it is overlooked. Neither parents nor pediatricians are truly equipped to answer it. Yet, all too often, we pediatricians expect families to figure out how to implement the well-meaning guidance we toss their way, leaving them feeling bewildered and guilty when they find they can’t.

A Reckoning

Here in Germany, dentists routinely visit schools to teach children about dental hygiene and oral health. As someone who has looked inside a lot of children’s mouths over the years, I’ve always been a huge supporter of these in-school programs. Until recently, that is, when my son came home and notified me that I should be brushing his teeth for him until he is at least ten years old. ‘Says who?!’ was my indignant response. ‘The dentist at school today,’ my son explained in the longsuffering tone he uses when I’m being unreasonable.

Excuse me? I belong to the approximately 2% of parents who floss their children’s teeth on the regular. (Don’t lie. I know you don’t.) What more could these insufferable dentists possibly want from me?

And then it struck me: Is this what the families I’ve counseled over the years have felt like all along? I’m ashamed to admit it’s possible.

To Suffer Together

Reflecting on this, I’ve realized the greatest impact being a parent has had on how I practice medicine can be summed up in one word. Compassion. I am less judgmental when families fall short of our recommendations. I try not to dump guidance on caretakers without clear advice on how to follow through with it. I recognize that we ask so much of families and that, while it’s common knowledge that parenting takes a village, it seems like most of us live in a lone hut far from civilization.

The word compassion literally means ‘to suffer together’ and now that I am a parent, I do.

The Price of Compassion

At times, the compassion being a parent has gifted me comes with a hefty price tag. Despite my love of all things emergency medicine and intensive care, I have found myself running up against the limits of professional distance when caring for critically ill patients. So many children remind me of my own children.

As a result, the world has gotten a lot scarier. I imagine most parents struggle with sending their kids out into an unpredictable existence. Add to that the effect of having seen all the worst-case scenarios- every freak accident, every surgery gone wrong, every rare disease imaginable and you’ll understand where I’m coming from.

I’m wary of nuts, popcorn, hot dogs, bounce houses, trampolines, swimming pools and piñatas, just to name a few. As you might imagine, this makes me a super fun mom. Birthday invitations are a nightmare. I can only hope my kids go into well-paying professions because their therapy bills are going to be through the roof. (Read In Search of the Safety-Autonomy Sweet Spot for more about my struggle with this).

The Very Best

For better or for worse, my profession has made me keenly aware of what could be, and as a result I rarely take my kids’ health for granted.

Every time one of my children is sick (so currently about once a week), as I suffer their aches and pains with them and mournfully watch my plans for the day go up in flames, I remind myself that this is temporary and- in the big picture- benign. And I remember all of the parents of truly sick children I’ve witnessed over the years.

Chronic illness, particularly in a child, has a way of bringing out the very best and the very worst in people. Knowing how unbearable life can feel when a child is sick for even just a few days, I recognize that I would likely fall into the latter category. But on the other end of the spectrum is a phenomenon I have no explanation for, though I’ve observed it time and again. In the hospital, I have seen resilience, patience, kindness, and determination in the face of the seemingly unendurable. To witness your child’s pain and continue to walk through life with an open, grateful heart is a feat that defies comprehension. It has taught me what we as parents, as humans, are capable of and that knowledge helps me as I face my own parenting challenges.

I’m trying to fill in the gaps between parenting and pediatrics. I bring my parent self to work. I bring my pediatrician self home to my kids. My hope is that ultimately, the whole of those identities is greater than the sum of its parts.