Emilie Silverwood-Cope: Parents should step back when they are ready to go it alone
My eldest son injured himself a couple of weeks ago. A bone was sticking out of his finger so even without a medical degree I could tell it was time to head to A&E.
This wasn’t our first rodeo. Most of us parents have got our A&E badge thanks to various mishaps along the way. We know the drill well enough. What I wasn’t prepared for was finding I’d been elevated to a new level of parenting. Level Surplus.
My son is now 18 years old and as we all know, thanks to the pub visits, our children are adults in the eyes of the law. I knew this of course. We’d even voted together in the recent local elections. What our trip to A&E made me realise was what adult status means in practice.
What usually happens when a parent is in a room with a doctor and a poorly child is the doctor directs everything to said parent. The conversation works around the child and checklists like “keep up fluids, give them medicine three times a day and if they start vomiting bring them back in” are verbally handed over. No longer. While my son’s broken finger and visible bone was discussed, I was now the invisible bystander.
Redundant. Unneeded.
Information was needed regarding allergies, previous health issues and medications. This could be my Mastermind specialist subject but not one person was interested in what I had to say about them. In spite of my best efforts, eye contact was pointedly not made and all questions were directed at my son and my son alone.
I moved forward when a consent form appeared, ready to sign, realising slightly too late that it wasn’t my signature they needed. My number wasn’t asked for regarding details about the follow up operation. Vital information about recovery times, painkillers and do’s and don’ts, wasn’t directed at me. I did not get the verbal checklist. There was no going in with him for his operation. No comforting nurse asking if mum was alright (which I just about was after a large glass of wine, thank you for checking).
Children leave home incrementally. Their micro-steps towards independence aren’t always so noticeable. We see the big ones like the last day of nursery and then (at lightning speed) the first day of secondary school. We take photos of those and fret openly about first ever sleep overs and school trips. Meanwhile we can miss the significance of the other ones. When was the very last time my child dressed as Buzz Lightyear? When did my daughter stop coming into my bed every morning? When did the tooth fairy stop having any part to play in this household? Hobbies and obsessions that used to dominate our time have been quietly dropped.
I struggled when my precious first-born started nursery. Maternity leave was over and I hated the thought of not being with him all the time. I hated handing him over and hated the thought of someone getting to spend the day with him while I schlepped to work.
My friend said “just think though, when he’s 18 he’ll be putting on a rucksack and will be able to go on holiday without you and that’s the goal”. How impossible that had seemed back then. But that’s where we’ve got to. Level Rucksack and irrefutable because he is signing his own forms in A&E and getting the checklist. It’s just as it should be: he is well beyond the age of Gillick Competence, old enough to drink, vote and tell doctors about his smashed-up finger.
This is the parental job description. Getting out of the way and stepping back when they can go it alone.
Read more Parenting Truths from Emilie Silverwood-Cope every month in the Cambridge Independent.
