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Parenting
What’s Considered Typical?
Updated: Aug. 21, 2015
Originally Published: June 8, 2013
When my first child reached three weeks of age, I found myself reaching out to a lactation specialist. “Is it, um, typical for him to cry for hours on end? Because that’s what he does, and… well, I’m just curious if that’s common for a newborn?” After a brief pause, she replied simply, “No, that’s not typical.” That was all she offered. She didn’t expand, didn’t provide guidance on how to move forward, and didn’t mention colic or reflux. I was left feeling perplexed, as if I had somehow broken my baby. My newborn wasn’t “normal.”
This marked the beginning of my complex relationship with the term “normal” as a parent. “Please tell me this is typical,” my friends and I often exchange. These are loaded inquiries. What we’re really asking is whether we’re on the right track. Are we overlooking something? Should we consult a pediatrician? Or perhaps a psychologist? Do we need to take a step back? Is this behavior just a phase, or is it a deeper concern?
I strive to do my best, but cultivating confidence as a parent in today’s environment is no easy feat. I often find myself envying my mother’s parenting style, which seemed more straightforward and effective back in the ’70s. When I became a parent, it felt like everyone was scrutinizing my decisions. Breastfeeding or using cloth diapers became more than just choices; they turned into political statements. The type of food we provided or the bottles we chose became reflections of our social standing. Now that my children are older, I find myself worrying about academic performance, school choices, and extracurricular activities. Regardless of my actions, I feel judged by someone.
However, the most significant challenges I’ve faced as my children have grown are not about tangible decisions like diaper types or feeding methods. The true difficulties lie in the unspoken aspects of parenting. For instance, one of my children was an incredibly difficult three-year-old. He had intense temper tantrums, and I often found myself needing to physically restrain him for my own safety until he calmed down. That isn’t something you casually bring up at a playdate or social gathering. “Hey, does anyone else have a child who’s prone to violence? Did you find time-outs as ineffective as I do when the child is trying to bite your hand off?”
Likewise, when I acknowledged that one of my boys required speech therapy, I struggled with how to explain it to friends. “Oh, we can’t join playgroup because… well, no one, including my husband and I, can understand what my child is trying to say, and even though he appears older, he sounds like a baby. So, he needs therapy each week.” Discussing a child’s need for “assistance,” even for something as common as speech therapy, can make people uncomfortable. It’s as if we’re not allowed to admit that our children need help—or that we sometimes do too. Meanwhile, my mind races with questions: Is his speech delay connected to the emergency induction I had at 37 weeks? If I had gone to the hospital sooner, would he be different? Is this within the typical range of issues? Will he eventually speak clearly, and no one will ever know he faced these challenges?
Over the years, I’ve worried about countless issues, both minor and significant. Is it typical for one child to struggle with reading fluency and to write some letters and numbers backward even in kindergarten? Is it normal for a three-year-old to wake up shaking from night terrors? What about now, at eight years old? Is it common for one son to be fixated on his body, while another shows no interest at all? Is it typical for one child to be unable to lose a game without a meltdown, while another is fiercely defiant, ignoring any consequences? Is it normal for a child to express daily fears about being forgotten at school? And I can’t help but ask myself—Is it typical for me to lose my temper quickly, to cry easily, to worry incessantly?
I’ve learned that the definition of “normal” is broad when it comes to children. Parenting, for me, resembles reading a complex book rather than solving a straightforward math equation. There isn’t just one “correct” way to arrive at a conclusion; instead, I reflect, experiment, interpret, and reinterpret my experiences until I develop my perspective and solutions. My parenting journey resembles an essay question rather than a solvable formula. Yet, much like in some of my college courses, I occasionally encounter topics that leave me feeling lost. During these moments, I often feel isolated. I have to discern whom I can trust with my honesty and requests for support. I need to identify those who won’t judge me—or my children—over our potential shortcomings or unconventional behaviors. I even have to know who won’t criticize me for asking questions in the first place. That’s when I most need reassurance that what I’m experiencing is “normal.”
As the night wears on, my fears creep in and disrupt my sleep: what if it truly isn’t normal? What does that imply? Can I rectify it? Ultimately, when I plead, “Tell me this is normal,” what I truly mean is, “Please don’t let me damage the most important people in my life.”
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