Parenting & Stuff

I just read a post on my good friend's blog, in which she discussed the unsolicited parenting advice she has been receiving, and how it makes her feel. This struck a chord with me, so I think I will write a bit about that myself. There are times, of course, when the advice of someone who has gone through similar experiences is helpful and appreciated. However, the unasked-for observations and "tips" can be downright insulting, especially from someone who barely knows your child. Anytime someone say something to me that begins with "You should....", my inner defenses shoot up immediately.

Let me give you an example of how this has affected me in the past. When my son, Devin, who is now 9 was in kindergarten, I attended what I thought was a routine parent-teacher conference & progress report. When I arrived, I was met not only by Devin's teacher, but by the principal of the school and a special needs teacher. I really liked Devin's teacher and trusted her, so I just knew something was wrong. Basically what I was told was that they "felt" that Devin had a form of autism known as asperger's syndrome. They based this on the fact that he was already reading way above the kindergarten level (sorry, guess I shouldn't have read him all those books in his formative years. What was I thinking?) and the fact that he was shy. Being still relatively new to the parenting thing, I took every word to my broken heart. Later at home, I cried, and dreaded getting Devin tested, as I didn't know what I would be facing. Would he never be able to relate to other people? Would he never have friends? Would kids make fun of him? I bought books on the topic to educate myself, and told family members what the teachers said. (to which certain members of my family replied that they "knew" something was wrong with him or that something was "off" with him. Really nice, huh? My Dad even implied it was MY fault because I stayed home with him in his early years, instead of sending him to day care. Geesh.) Well, all that stress and worry on my part was for naught, because I had Devin tested and he does not have asperger's or any other form of autism. I know it would not have been the end of the world if he'd had autism, because there are many many wonderful autistic children. My point is this: these well-meaning folks should never have diagnosed him themselves as they were clearly not qualified to do so. Today, Devin is still a great reader, a math whiz, and has lots of friends. He is funny and clever and I am so proud of him.

Another example occured before Devin was even born. I am not sure if I have mentioned this on the blog before, so please bear with me if you've heard this one before. Before Devin, I had a miscarriage in my 18th week, that baby was also a boy. I won't share the gory details, but trust me when I tell you it was traumatic, and I have never grieved like that in my life. I still remember the date: October 18, 2000. Right after that, I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes, so when I became pregnant with Devin, I was sent to see the high-risk pregnancy specialists (I'm sure they have a medical name, but it escapes me at the moment). There were 4 doctors in this practice, and I never knew which one I would be seeing at my many appointments. Early on, one of these doctors decided that I needed his advice. What was this gem of knowledge from this medical mastermind? One word: abortion. Yep, you heard me right. I don't want to get into a political rant about abortion, but here is my opinion: I am pro-choice, but I would never have an abortion myself. I asked him why he would suggest abortion to a woman who had just had a miscarriage 6 months prior, and his matter-of-fact reply was chilling: "Because, pregnant women with diabetes don't typically have the will power to keep their blood sugars under control". WTF????? Well, this medical genius had never met this diabetic chick, because I was ready to fight for this kid's life with everything I had, and proving his sorry ass wrong would be the frosting on the cake (sugar-free frosting, of course!). Over the next months, I tested my sugars 3 times daily and kept a log, as well as a food log, so this jerk could see what I was eating. The result? A happy, healthy baby boy, and a big, fat "I told  you so" to this jerk doctor when he came into my hospital room to check on me. I believe I made a comment like "Good thing I didn't abort him" or something similar.

My point on this day? Think twice before telling a parent how they should or shouldn't raise their child, especially if they don't ask you to. As long as the child is happy, healthy, loved, cared for and not abused, then those parents must be doing something right and your way may not necessarily be best. All children are not the same, and parenting is a hard enough job without people making you doubt yourself. Kath, I dedicate this post to you, my friend.