A few months ago, I talked with my mother, who is in her mid-60s (this detail becomes important later). We talk daily, but this conversation was different. My son, who had recently turned two, was not meeting a particular developmental milestone, which caused some concern. Of course, I was very well aware of this and had been working with his pediatrician on things that could be done to improve the concern. In this conversation, my mom expressed concerns about his progress. She told me that everything I was advised to do wasn’t happening. I felt myself getting angry, but then came the statement: “You’re letting the television raise him.”
I was VERY upset at this notion. My immediate thought was, “What a Boomer thing to say.” *This is why I mentioned her age earlier.* I was so angry at the notion that I was letting an electronic device do my job as a mother. The timing of the conversation wasn’t great either: it was on a Monday morning when I had 14-15 patients to see. So, needless to say, it wasn’t a great start to my day. After the anger and defensiveness subsided a bit (and only a bit, lol), I started thinking about what was said. Now, do NOT get me wrong. I agree that letting kids watch age-appropriate television is something we all have to do at times. But while I felt her statement was dramatic, I did start to reflect on how I was showing up for my son, my family, and myself.
Upon reflecting, I realized I was leaning toward television in the evenings instead of spending time with my son because I had no emotional bandwidth at the end of my workdays. I was generally exhausted and irritable after a day of managing psychiatric conditions in children and adolescents. I would have headaches and neck/jaw pain pretty much every day. I was extremely burned out, and because I had some other arbitrary timeline for when this burnout would likely occur, it took longer than expected for me to realize what was happening. But once I realized how it impacted my family, I immediately moved into action.
I talked with a fellow St. Louis Mom and close friend with a similar trajectory in her current role. She was previously in a high-burnout role and ultimately had to transition to a different career path to show up how she wanted and needed to for her child. As luck would have it (and truthfully, my thought is that when something is meant for you, it will happen), a position became available in her organization. I would no longer do patient care but could still utilize my experience with mental health and behavioral health disorders. It would be a significant change, and I would have a lot to learn. Like most anxiety-ridden people, I typically hate change. But I knew what I was doing was no longer an option.
So, fast forward to the present. I officially “retired” from patient care in mid-February, and I am a business analyst who specializes in mental/behavioral health and substance use disorders. Although I miss some aspects of patient care, I am resolved that I made the right decision. I also need to be clear that I’m fast-forwarding the process for the sake of this post; it was a tough decision to make, and I had a lot of understandable anxiety about it. I have been a nurse for 13 years and a nurse practitioner for seven. My place in the medical field was a large part of my identity. But that’s something I’m learning about motherhood: we often do many things that scare us to show up better for our children. For some, that’s a career change. For others, it’s breaking generational curses and parenting ourselves. For most of us, it could be all of the above.
I am fortunate that I’m already reaping the benefits of this change. On more than one occasion, my husband has remarked that I seem lighter and happier. My son and I are closer than ever because I can be more physically and emotionally present for him. Sometimes, I need to get things done, and Mickey and his friends are his companions. But this is now the exception, not the routine.
