Parenting
What’s Considered Normal?
by Jessica Lane
Updated: Aug. 21, 2015
Originally Published: June 8, 2013
When my first child was just three weeks old, I found myself on the phone with a lactation consultant. “Is it, um, typical for him to cry for hours on end? Because he does, and… uh, I’m just curious if that’s what newborns do?” She paused for a moment before replying, “No, that’s not typical.” That was it. No further explanation, no advice on what to do next—no discussion about colic or reflux. I was left feeling like I had somehow failed my child. Clearly, my baby wasn’t “normal.”
This was just the beginning of my complicated relationship with the term “normal” as a parent. “Please tell me this is normal,” my friends and I often exchanged. Those words carry a lot of weight. What we’re really asking is, Am I on the right track? Am I overlooking something? Should I reach out to a pediatrician? Do I need to call in a therapist? Should I just relax? Is this just a phase, or something more serious?
I try my best, but it’s incredibly challenging to feel confident in parenting today. I often envy my mother, who seemed to follow the crowd and somehow made it all work. Parenting appeared to be far less self-conscious back in the ‘70s. When I was a new parent, it felt like everyone wanted to weigh in on my choices. Breastfeeding or cloth diapers became a political statement. Choosing organic foods or BPA-free bottles felt like a class indicator. Whether our kids played with cheap plastic toys from overseas or high-end eco-friendly ones became a reflection of our parenting skills. Now that my children are older, I find myself worrying about test preparation, school options, and extracurricular activities. No matter my decisions, I often feel a sense of judgment from others.
However, the real challenges I’ve faced as my children have grown are not about the tangible choices like diapers or bottles. The tough stuff involves the unspoken realities of parenting. For instance, one of my kids was a particularly challenging three-year-old. He had intense meltdowns that left me wrestling with him just to keep myself safe until he could calm down. That’s not exactly a conversation starter at playgroup. “Hey, does anyone else have a child who gets violent? Did you find time-outs as ineffective as I do when they’re trying to bite you?”
Similarly, when I accepted that one of my boys genuinely required speech therapy, I struggled with how to explain it to my friends. “Oh, we can’t join playgroup because… well, no one—myself included—can understand a word that comes out of his mouth. Even though he looks older, he sounds like a baby, so he has to go to therapy weekly.” People tend to get uneasy when you talk about your child needing “HELP,” even for something as standard as speech therapy. It feels like we’re not supposed to admit that our children—or we ourselves—sometimes need additional support. Meanwhile, my mind spirals: Is his speech delay linked to my emergency induction at 37 weeks? What if I had gone to triage sooner? Is this within the range of normal issues? Will he eventually speak clearly and no one will ever know about his struggles?
I’ve fretted over countless things throughout the years. Is it typical that one child struggled with reading fluency and wrote letters backwards well into kindergarten? Is it normal for a three-year-old to wake up terrified from night terrors? What about now at age eight? Is it normal for one child to be so obsessed with his anatomy while the other shows no interest? Is it typical for a child to be unable to handle losing a game without melting down? Is it normal for another child to be so stubborn that no consequences seem to matter? Is it normal for a child to express daily fears about not being picked up from school? And what about me—Is it normal to lose my temper quickly, to cry easily, and to worry so much?
I’ve learned that “normal” is a broad concept when it comes to kids. Parenting, for me, resembles reading a novel more than solving a math problem. Instead of following a set formula to find the answer, I ponder, experiment, interpret, and reinterpret the material until I develop my perspective and solutions. My parenting approach is more of an essay question than a straightforward equation. Yet, like some of my college English courses, there are moments when I encounter material beyond my understanding, leaving me adrift. That’s when I feel the most isolated. I must choose carefully who I confide in, who can handle my honesty and my need for support without judgment. I seek reassurance that this is “normal.”
The real anxiety creeps in at night, robbing me of sleep: What if it isn’t actually normal? What does that mean? Can it be fixed? Because, in the end, what I truly want to express when I plead, “Please tell me this is normal,” is, “Please don’t let me mess up the most important people in my life.”
If you’re navigating similar challenges, you might find this resource on intrauterine insemination helpful, along with our guide on at-home insemination kits. And for even more insights, check out this post from our blog.
In summary, the concept of “normal” in parenting is fluid and subjective, varying widely from one family to another. As parents, we often grapple with uncertainties and seek validation from others. Ultimately, each parenting journey is unique, filled with its own set of challenges and triumphs.