A Nursing Experience

September 19, 2014 by Kelly Weikle
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Before I had AJ, I read posts and heard stories on the difficulty of breastfeeding. But I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why people said it was so hard. Nothing I read really explained what was hard about it. Now that I am breastfeeding, I know why it is hard. I’m sharing my experience, what I think is probably a typical one, to hopefully help other soon-to-be moms know what it’s like to learn to breastfeed, and to see if any new moms have had similar experiences.

Before I continue, I feel I need to say that this is not a post advocating one way of feeding your child over another, touting the benefits of various types of infant nutrition, or saying one form of feeding is more difficult than another. A mom has to feed her child in the way that works best for her baby, herself and her family. How she chooses to do so is a decision that is up to her and her child’s pediatrician, and may depend on various circumstances. Every way of feeding a baby comes with its advantages and difficulties; I am breastfeeding and so that’s the experience I can share.

I knew I wanted to breastfeed, but I was apprehensive about it. I didn’t think I would like it at all. And at first, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way it made me feel and I didn’t like the burden I felt it placed on me.

The first 48 hours were by far the hardest. Despite what I expected, a baby is not like a magnet, they don’t immediately latch on and know what to do. It takes a lot of guidance, patience and stamina to get a newborn to latch. Babies have to learn how to eat and suck and it can take a toll on mom while they do so. I was already exhausted from the experience of childbirth, and then I had to try to get AJ to eat properly again and again and again. I got stressed out and panicky if she wouldn’t latch or if the nurse told me I was doing it the wrong way. I received conflicting instructions from people. I thought nursing was something that should come naturally to me and to my baby, but it doesn’t. It is definitely a learned process for both.

Sometimes, babies just aren’t able to latch. There are many reasons why. When AJ was born, she was “tongue-tied,” which means her tongue was connected to the bottom of her mouth all the way to the tip. Because of this, she was not able to latch correctly. She could still breastfeed, but it was very painful for me. If she hadn’t had a procedure to fix her tongue-tie I don’t think I would have been able to continue to breastfeed. It would have been too painful for me and too frustrating for her.

I would not have been successful breastfeeding if not for the help of the lactation specialist at the hospital. I saw her twice and she is the reason I kept going. Without her instructions, I would not have known what to do and would not have been able to teach AJ.

The first few days, AJ was eating every one to two hours. And that timing is from the beginning of one feeding to the beginning of another. With each feeding taking about twenty to thirty minutes, that’s basically all I was doing. Talk about no sleep! It was draining physically, mentally and emotionally. Every time she ate it felt like she was sucking life out of me. Because of the hormones, it also made me feel sad and depressed. Not exactly an enjoyable experience.

When we got home, things got a little better, but not much. She was getting better at eating, so I was only feeding her every two to two and a half hours and the duration of each feeding got shorter. It was still physically and mentally painful for me. After a feeding, I would need to lie down for a while to recuperate.

The stress of it all took a toll on me too. I worried about if she was getting enough to eat and I felt like there was a huge weight on my shoulders as I was the only one who could feed her. While my husband could take a break and sleep for a few hours, I could not. I was always on call (and still am).

About a week and a half in, things took a significant turn for the better. Nursing was not painful anymore. AJ learned to latch and I didn’t have to constantly stop nursing to reposition her mouth. I gained more energy and didn’t have to lie down after a feeding. My hormones started to balance out and I didn’t feel like she was sucking out my soul every time she ate. I learned she was healthily gaining weight at her two-week checkup.

Now, after five weeks in, it’s become (almost) a breeze. Last week, I started to pump; I’m still nursing, but we introduced the bottle so that I can have a break when I need it, and I’m eventually going to have to go back to work. But instead of feeling relieved that she took the bottle, I felt sad that something had taken a piece of our special bond. It took a lot of hard work to get here, but I’ve come to really enjoy nursing. I know when it comes time to wean her I will be a sad momma.

Career Counseling

September 17, 2014 by Trina Bartlett
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I have two teenagers in my house, which means two people question my intelligence on a daily basis.

The years are long gone when my children thought I could bestow gems of great wisdom upon them or provide an answer that would make all things right again.

Their desire for my input has changed so much in the past few years that now I’m almost grateful when they ask me for anything but money.

And when they actually do seek my opinion, I want my words to be meaningful and memorable.

Unfortunately, that isn’t working out for me.

Take, for example, the other evening when my daughter asked me what career she should choose. Her question was preceded with an explanation that a few of her I eighth grade comrades have already decided. One, she told me, wants a job like Penelope’s on the television show Criminal Minds.

I was briefly distracted from the conversation by the thought that such role models as Penelope didn’t exist when I was growing up, and I wished I had known about that career option. But my distraction didn’t last long as I was drawn back into the conversation by Kendall’s insistence that I provide some clear career advice.

The best I could give her was, “Find something you love to do.”

That answer is one of the many reasons my children constantly question my intelligence. It’s the kind of answer that teenagers would consider “lame” if they actually used that word anymore.

And so, my daughter persisted.

“No, really Mom,” she said. “What should I be?”

I couldn’t give her a better answer.

Just that day I had been sitting in my office with my board chair discussing various issues related to my work for a non-profit, social service agency. I had launched into yet another passionate commentary about how to better help the people for whom we provide services while she listened attentively. When I was finally silent she said, “You are one of the lucky ones.”

Apparently, I had a confused look on my face because she added, “You have a job in which your values, your beliefs and your spirituality are all part of what you do every day. Few people are as lucky,”

She then told me about a former youth group leader at her church whose profession was building bombs.

“He lived in a perpetual state of conflict,” she said. “But he had to feed his family.”

I appreciated her comments. I didn’t mention that most of the jobs I’ve had could barely feed my family and that I’m extremely fortunate to have a husband who also works. Instead, I thought about the strange and twisted path that has become my career. I didn’t even know that the work I do was a career option when I was my daughter’s age. But somehow, through a series of both personal decisions and life events, I have landed where I am.

And I couldn’t be happier.

And that’s also why I couldn’t provide my daughter with a better response to what kind of career she should pursue. I don’t know how relevant my, or any other person’, input should be. She has so many choices to make and so make events to still experience.

What I really wanted to say was “Get an education in a field that interests you and  experience life as much as you possibly can. If you do both, your career will fall into place. Even if you don’t always have a job you love, you’ll have the foundation for an amazing life.”

I would have said that to her, but I know she would have  given me  a classic Kendall look that can only be defined as a mix of pity and frustration.

And so, all I could do was repeat what I had already told her  - make a decision based on her own interests and skills.

She still wasn’t satisfied with my answer, but I knew that giving her a list of professions wasn’t really going to help.

I also knew that someday she’ll recognize that maybe, just maybe, her mother was smarter than she once thought.

What I’ve Learned in One Month as a Mom

September 12, 2014 by Kelly Weikle
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AJ is one month old today. I can’t believe it! Time has flown by, and at the same time it feels like she’s been here for much longer than just four weeks. I already can’t imagine life without her.

Here’s some things I’ve learned in the past month about being a mom to an infant:

  • Getting to know your baby is a process. I thought I would know AJ from the moment I held her in my arms for the first time. But when I met her, I was surprised by the realization that she was basically a stranger. I had to get to know her just like anyone else I meet in life. And she had to get to know me. We are still getting to know each other. I think this concept can be the source of some heartache and frustration for a new mom. I thought I should know her mannerisms, her personality and exactly how to handle her from the start, and when I didn’t it upset me. But it’s so much more wonderful getting to know her over time and discovering something new to love every day.
  • Another process, at least for me, was really feeling like a mom. It took me a while to feel like I was the person who could take the best care of AJ. I’m still learning how to be her mom and some days I feel more confident than others. Being only one month in, I know I have a long way to go before I truly feel confident in my mommy abilities (or will I ever feel confident?!).
  • Nothing can really prepare you for what it’s like to have a newborn. It’s hard work – I mean really hard work. Who knew holding a baby could make you so tired! I’ve shared some of my experiences with crying and sleeping, but nothing can compare to the first-hand experience.
  • New mom brain is worse than pregnancy brain. I cannot remember anything. I set reminders on my phone for everything from doctor’s appointments to fall TV premieres. Recently I even wrote down the things I wanted to tell Chris when he got home from work. My memory is that bad right now. I blame it on the lack of sleep.
  • After only one month, I’m not afraid to admit I have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m trying my hardest, and AJ, Chris and I are figuring it out together. If there is any first-time mom of a one month old that does know exactly what she’s doing…give me a call and let me know your secret.
  • Last but not least, I never knew how someone so small could fill my heart so much! Every day is a wonderful new adventure, even if we don’t leave the house :)

I’m interested to hear from other moms – how does your experience with your newborn compare to mine? What did you learn in the first month?

A Bit of Attitude

September 10, 2014 by Trina Bartlett
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As I write this, I am extremely exhausted.

Just saying I’ve had a great deal on my plate lately would be an understatement.

I’ve had a great deal on multiple plates, and, since I’m not very coordinated, juggling them has been a challenge.attitude

I was finally able to put one of  the largest and heaviest plates down when the last guest left  an annual fundraising event Monday night.  Instead of feeling a sense of relief, however, I started noticing all the other plates that were still at risk of being dropped. I was even starting to fret about all that I’d left undone in my scramble to ensure the fundraiser was a success.

And then the event chairperson gave me a compliment that put my to do list in perspective. Amid the discussion about logistics and guests and dollars raised, he said, “I really appreciated your attitude.”

I don’t think anyone has complimented me in such a way before.

Maybe that’s because attitude isn’t about a skill set or even about a behavior. It’s certainly not about recruiting great volunteers, putting together a good program or selling enough tickets. Attitude is about how we face both challenges and successes, and I don’t think it is easily taught.

No matter how many times I’ve told my children that they need to improve their attitude, my words don’t have any effect. My kids don’t suddenly go from sullen to excited because I, or anyone else, told them they should.

But then again, I never did either.

Understanding and learning to adopt a better attitude came from one place: my role models.

I’m not talking about great leaders or adults that had a long-lasting impact on me as a child.

I’m talking about ordinary people who have shown me that we can’t always change our circumstances, but we can certainly change how we react to them and therefore how others around us react.

Just the other day, a homeless woman  said “thank you”  and “I understand”  when I told her I needed to call another agency to verify her story. I wanted to help her so much more than the person who accuses me of calling them a liar.

Just the other day at the grocery store, I stood in the express lane with five items in my hand while the clerk said nothing to the woman with a full cart ahead of me. I bit my tongue and silently fumed until the older gentleman behind me joked that we’d need to talk to each other while we waited. His smile and attempt at humor made me realize that a few extra minutes at the grocery store wasn’t going to ruin my day.

And just the other day, I witnessed  friend who is struggling with multiple issues  smile widely and hug others with no mention of her own problems. She isn’t pretending her problems don’t exist, but she isn’t letting them interfere with her positive relationships.

All of these people have taught me something that words never could.

Telling my children to change their attitude may not work, but paying attention to my own attitude just might.

That’s why I’m not just adding “monitoring my attitude” to my growing to-do list. I’m putting it at the very top.

Late nights (part 2)

September 5, 2014 by Kelly Weikle
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I actually looked up the definition of tired in the dictionary. My thought was, “I don’t think tired accurately describes what I’m feeling right now; what does good old Merriam-Webster have to say about it?” The first definition for tired reads, “Feeling a need to rest or sleep.” That’s the kind of tired I felt pre-baby.

Another definition reads, “Drained of strength and energy: fatigued often to the point of exhaustion.” YES – that’s the kind of tired I am now. Drained of strength and energy.

I reread my post Late nights (part 1) before I started on this one. I was definitely losing sleep then, but there are several significant differences to pre- and post- baby sleep loss.

Before when I was awake, I didn’t have to be alert. Even if my mind was racing, I could lie there in half-consciousness and slowly fall back asleep. Now, when I am awake I have to be alert. Diaper changes, feedings, carrying, soothing and sometimes cleaning up messes require attentiveness and energy. It’s not like getting on Facebook or reading a book if you can’t sleep; it’s hard work.

Before when I wasn’t sleeping, I knew eventually I would be able to catch up on my sleep. I could take a nap the next day, or by the next night I would be so tired I would fall asleep despite being uncomfortable. Now, I have to be up every few hours despite how tired I am, and it is non-stop. There is no catch-up night where I can sleep for a solid eight hours.

Newborns need to eat at least every three to four hours. That’s measured from the beginning of one feeding to the beginning of another. In the first week, AJ ate every one and half to two hours and each feeding took about 30 to 45 minutes. And she never went immediately back to sleep when she was done. That doesn’t leave much room for momma to catch any sleep.

When she did sleep, I could not. My mind was full of worries (and frankly will always be). Is she breathing? What does that noise mean? And so on.

Full of those worries, every time she makes a peep, I wake up. Often, she will fuss until Chris or I pick her up and hold her; our arms are her favorite sleeping spot. They say you cannot spoil a baby by picking her up to stop a cry; but if you can, we are getting close.

While I have not slept for more than a three-hour stretch since AJ was born, the good news is it has already gotten better. We have some bad nights and some good nights, but she normally goes about three hours between feedings now and eats much quicker. And I am a tiny bit more relaxed, so I’m able to fall asleep if she is asleep. Chris is always willing to stay up with her if she is crying or fussy, even when he has to work the next day. We are both slowly adjusting to life with less sleep.

I’ve heard tales of babies sleeping six hours at a time when they are a few months old. Six hours of uninterrupted sleep would be a dream come true. I know we’ll get there eventually, but for now pass the coffee.

The Bright Side of Sibling Struggles

September 3, 2014 by Trina Bartlett
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If I were a great parent, I would have taken appropriate action when my son told my daughter to shut up. I didn’t take any action, which means I’m not a great parent or a very good referee.

The problem is that my ability to see shades of grey is magnified when it comes to my children.siblings

I didn’t like my son saying “shut up,” but I also knew that “please be quiet,” wouldn’t have gotten him anywhere. And where he wanted to go was away from his sister’s loud and persistent singing.

Don’t get me wrong.

My daughter is a wonderful singer. She was born singing. When she started daycare, the teachers said they always knew where Kendall was because they simply followed her song.

Not much has changed over the past decade, which is exactly why Shep reached his limit and  yelled “shut up.”

His sister, on the other hand, had every reason to be belting songs at the top of her lungs. She  has an audition for a musical  on Saturday and she was trying out every piece of music she thought would be appropriate.

Since I understood both of them,  I couldn’t take sides. What I could do was  sympathize with both of them, and that’s the path I chose to take.

It may not have been the direction for which parenting experts advocate, and it certainly didn’t do much for creating peace in my house. But I like to think it provided my children with a glimpse of the real world.

In the real world, people have different priorities, and sometimes those priorities conflict. We have to figure out a way to live together anyway.

In the real world, we know that music  may touch the soul, but the same tune affects everyone differently. We have to let others dance to their own beat just as we dance to ours.

And in the real world, maintaining general happiness in life requires deciding when to fight for what you want and when to walk away. The best decisions are the ones that take into account the perspective of others.

I may not have given my children the gift of having the world’s most wise or  patient mother, but I did give my kids what I consider one of the world’s greatest gifts.  I gave them a sibling with whom they have many of the same conflicts they will soon have to face with roommates, co-workers, spouses and maybe even their own children.

And I also like to think that someday, in the distant future, they might  actually appreciate that gift.

All the Cries

August 29, 2014 by Kelly Weikle
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Babies cry. Everyone knows this. Baby cries have never bothered me. Not on an airplane, not at the grocery store, not in a restaurant. I hardly notice a baby crying unless it’s in a very silent place (like church). When I do notice, it doesn’t annoy or upset me; I feel more for the parent trying to console his or her baby than anything else.

So I’d say I was significantly unprepared for how much I would be affected by my own baby crying. Her cries break my heart. I can hear her from anywhere in the house. If I’m sleeping, and she so much as makes a little coo, I wake up. And can’t go back to sleep, even if I’ve just fed her and it’s dad’s turn to soothe her. My mind races: Does she need me? What’s wrong? What does she need? I guess it’s that motherly instinct kicking in. One whimper and my senses shoot to attention, ready to meet her every need (if I can figure it out).

The baby books say you’ll be able to decipher your baby’s cries and respond based on what they need. Only in the last couple days have I started to notice different patterns of crying and sometimes been able to soothe her by meeting the need of her cry.

A single ‘wah’ is a cry not to be taken seriously; it comes out of nowhere and disappears just as quickly. I try not to let this cry bother me.

‘Ack, ack, ack’ is her tired cry. When she starts crying like this, I’ve learned it’s best to just hold her in my arms and be quiet and still. Eventually, she’ll doze off.

‘WaUH, waUH, waUH’ is her hungry cry; feed immediately or face the consequences.

‘Grunt wah, grunt wah’ means it’s time for a diaper change. But don’t change immediately; the grunts tend to come back after five minutes of silence.

‘Sob sob, whimper whimper.’ That’s her…oh wait, that’s ME crying. Hormones, exhaustion, hunger, not being able to figure out what your baby needs…there are many reasons new moms cry.

‘WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHH WAHHHHHHHH’ is the worst cry of all, impossible to interpret and inconsolable. It’s this cry that makes me shed my own tears and hurts my heart the most. This cry comes at any time and lasts for a long time. Earlier this week, it lasted for three hours. I’ve tried everything I know to console her, and nothing works. I dread this cry. When she cries this way, my emotions range from sad to frustrated to desperate to sad again.

At her two-week checkup this week, the doctor said AJ has the symptoms of acid reflux. This may be why she has the terrible cries. I had acid reflux while I was pregnant, and it made me want to scream for hours on end too. I’m following various instructions to try to soothe her reflux. I also was given the go ahead to give her a pacifier, which has worked wonders.

Soothing her reflux may help, but the fact of the matter is, babies cry. Sometimes they cry for what seems like no reason. I won’t always know why she’s crying or be able to soothe her. I know this, like everything, is a phase, and we will get through it together. Holding her and comforting her is the best thing I can do, even if it doesn’t stop her crying. As I’m sure any mom knows, hearing your own child cry is worlds different than hearing a stranger’s baby cry.

And on that note, I better wrap this up…I think I hear a hunger cry starting.

As Time Goes By

August 27, 2014 by Trina Bartlett
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I have friends who swear their  bodies are the clearest indicator of the passage of time.

I disagree.birthday cake

Granted, every time I bend my knees, they crack and creak. Every day when I look in the mirror, I see another wrinkle on my face. And every effort to read small type has become an exercise in futility.

But my aging body isn’t what really makes me feel the passage of time.

That comes with watching my children grow up.

Last Friday, my youngest turned 13. The night before Kendall’s birthday, I walked into the family room as she and her father were looking at her baby book. She was laughing at the funny stories I had documented in the  pages and was looking at photos taken on her fourth birthday. In one picture, she was smiling at the camera while her friend Joey had his arm slung around her shoulder as he gazed at her.

“Oh yes, Joey,” I said looking over Kendall’s shoulder at the book. “He told us he was going to marry you.”

Kendall rolled her eyes and continued to flip through the pages of her baby book while her father and I looked at each other.

That photo had been taken nine years earlier, but Giles and I felt as though we had been joking about Joey’s intentions only yesterday. To Kendall, Joey is a distant, if non-existent, memory. My perspective of time appears to be out of whack.

For example, at church on Sunday I was talking to a woman whose daughter just started high school – at least in my mind she had just started high school.  But when I asked how she was doing, her mother reminded me that she is a senior in college. I couldn’t believe that many years had passed, and I thought about how college is just around the corner for my son, a high school junior.

Even though Giles and I have been making payments on Shepherd’s pre-paid college plan since he was born, I’m having a difficult time realizing that the time to make use of that fund is almost here.

I was holding a newborn in my arms the day we bought the plan. At that time,  my son’s college education was only a vague concept for the distant future when I would be a worn-out  middle-aged woman.

I like to think the years were too short for me to be that old and worn out. They did, after all, go much more quickly than when I was a child and summers went on forever and Christmas seemed as though it would never arrive.

I’ve come to recognize the days will continue to grow shorter and the years will continue to fly by. I’ve also come to recognize that even though there is nothing I can do to slow time down, there is a great deal I can do to ensure I treasure every minute of it.

Poop, Spit Up and Tears – Baby’s First Week

August 22, 2014 by Kelly Weikle
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Taking a cue from news anchor Savannah Guthrie and sharing my no-makeup hospital photo

Taking a cue from news anchor Savannah Guthrie and sharing my no-makeup hospital photo

“Come watch how funny this is!” I said to my brother as little AJ grimaced. Squirt. Time for a diaper change. I took her over to the beautifully set changing table and began to take off her diaper. As I went to make the switch between dirty diaper and clean, SQUIRTTTT, out came another round. All over her new, white Pottery Barn changing pad, diaper caddy and changing table runner. All over her diaper pail. All over the carpet. All over me (brother was thankfully spared). We could barely contain our laughter. Looks like the joke was on me.

And so goes many similar moments in the first days of AJ’s life. My husband Chris and I have laughed often, slept little and loved more than words. Both AJ and I have shed tears. I’ve only been projected pooped on once twice.

My labor and delivery was quick and relatively routine. The nurses and staff at CAMC Women and Children’s Hospital are amazing and I owe them and my doctors a huge thank you. I would never have made it through without their caring and generosity.

I got the epidural I swore I would not get. I only realized after it was all over that I had a notion in the back of my mind that getting an epidural would be “taking the easy way out.” Trust me – there is NO easy way to birth a baby. After everything was said and done, I felt like a superhero at the end of a movie – beat up, barely alive, but I had just saved the world.

The first night at the hospital was by far the hardest. AJ cried almost all night and the only way to soothe her was to nurse, which neither of us knew how to do yet. She would only come close to sleeping while in my or Chris’s arms (still the case some nights). Come Wednesday morning, we were more than ready to get out of the hospital, go home and start our new life.

Nursing was difficult and frustrating to start. I could not have done it without the help of the lactation specialist at Women and Children’s. It’s still a heavy responsibility to bear, being the only one that can feed your child, but it gets significantly easier with each feed.

I wouldn’t dare say we’ve formed a schedule yet, but we have started to get into a semi-routine of feeding, cuddling, napping and trying to take care of ourselves. She feeds every two to three hours throughout the day and night, some days more regular than others. Diaper changes are almost constant, and we’ve learned that diapers need changed with speed similar to a NASCAR pit stop to avoid a mess on the changing table or ourselves. Sometimes she sleeps soundly in her bassinet, other times we stay up holding her in her rocking chair. Spit up has become my clothing’s constant accessory.

Although we’ve learned more about parenting in the last week and half than I could imagine, this is only the beginning. When she cries, we don’t always know how to soothe her. We don’t know if we are doing things the “right” way. But we are trying our hardest, and we love her more than we thought possible. Chris goes back to work on Monday, and I don’t know what I will do without him. I’ll face an entire new set of challenges taking care of her alone during the day. I do know I will cherish the first two weeks of AJ’s life for as long as I live; a time when the three of us had no obligations other than each other, when we began to learn to be a family.

A Nod in Disagreement

August 21, 2014 by Trina Bartlett
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“Some people just shouldn’t have children,” the elderly gentleman said as he looked around the table waiting for a response from everyone else in the meeting.

I felt my head automatically nod in agreement.

I’ve witnessed parents who are addicted to drugs and alcohol and fail to care for their children. I’ve observed self-absorbed parents who put their own desires above those of their children. And I’ve spent time with parents who, for whatever reason, can’t meet the basic needs of  food, shelter and safety for their children.

And so, I nodded. At least, I started to nod.

I stopped when the gentleman called out another woman, “You’re a Catholic. You aren’t supposed to be agreeing with me.”

I was caught short not because he was questioning the woman’s faith but because I recognized the hypocrisy of my own reaction.

I was making a blanket judgement about people I don’t even know based on my own experiences and values.

I can’t stand when other people do that.

I said as much when driving back from the  meeting with a co-worker who shared my discomfort.

“I was working in a group home for single mothers,” she said, “when I confronted a pregnant mom who was slapping and yelling at her toddler as a means of discipline. When I questioned her behavior, her reaction stunned me. She told me, ‘my mom used to beat me and I turned out o.k.’  She truly believed she’d turned out o.k. I wanted her to do a reality check based on her current circumstances, but in her mind, she was doing  o.k.”

My co-worker and I didn’t talk for a few minutes as we both thought about the middle-class families with middle-class values in which we’d grown up.

Our parents were involved in our education and expected us to pursue college.

Our families encouraged us to improve our circumstances and set our goals high.

And our communities applauded our efforts to pursue dreams that may or may not have been realistic.

Some people might say we didn’t dream very hard. My co-worker and I chose career paths that don’t involve lots of money, moving in circles with high-powered individuals or traveling to exotic locations. We interact daily with individuals who can’t even imagine such a life. Our work mandates that we accept people where they are and help them decide if they want to take steps to move forward. We can’t make them change any more than other people can force us to change. But we can suggest, guide and educate.

The work is similar to that of a parent trying to help our children navigate an environment in which they interact daily with children whose parents have different values and standards.

But as parents, we do that anyway.

For those of us who had great role models, we can only hope we can pass on the wisdom that was instilled in us.

For those who have never had such great role models, we can only hope that we can provide empathy and  understanding and appropriate guidance. We certainly can’t tell other parents they should never have had children or even agree with someone who makes such a blanket statement.

That’s because every time we nod in agreement with people who judge others, we are widening the distance between people. That doesn’t mean we believe everyone should be a parent. There are obviously people who just don’t have the interest or the capacity. But once they are parents, we certainly can’t turn our backs or point fingers.

We may not all  see the world in the same way, but instead of only nodding along with those who think and act like us, we need to step toward, rather than away from, people who are different than we are. When we do that, the odds are much higher that we can together build a better world for the next generation