We’re in The Parenting Trenches
And what I keep telling myself in the middle of it.
Right now, we’re going through something hard. We’re in the parenting trenches. The real ones. The kind with fear, unknowns, doc appointments, school pick-ups, and far too many google searches at night. There’s a loop playing in my mind I can’t seem to turn off — a moment I keep returning to. Because it was loud and something a parent never wants to hear their baby scream.
My six-year-old is struggling. We don’t know the full picture yet, but anxiety is in the mix. Maybe more. We’re working on it — testing, therapy, holding our breath while trying to act normal. There was a moment recently — the one I can’t stop replaying — when he went into full panic mode. Matthew and I had just walked into the therapist’s office for our initial parent-only intake. He was home with my mom, his “Grams” — someone he’s always felt safe with. He’s never had an issue staying with her before, so why would today be any different? But then the phone rang. He was inconsolable. Screaming. Begging us to come home.
I handed the phone to the therapist like: Okay, here you go. This is it. This is what we’re dealing with. She answered calmly, trying to talk him down — and then, through the sobs, he screamed into the phone:
“CAN YOU HELP ME? PLEASE, PLEASE! WILL YOU HELP ME?”
And that was it. Everything inside me cracked wide open.
I say “moment,” but it felt like a lifetime.
What is happening?
Why can’t I fix this?
What did I miss?
How long has he felt like this?
I’ve never felt more helpless. Or more like I was failing at the one thing I’m supposed to be good at.
This thing — it’s fear. It’s panic. It’s something deeper, something stuck that they don’t yet have the tools to explain. And the worst part? I still don’t always know what to do.
We’re trying.
We’re in therapy.
We’re showing up.
We’re learning a new language together — one that includes breathwork and body scans and “you’re safe” on repeat.
But if I’m being honest, it’s still really hard. It’s scary and exhausting and humbling. And it’s ongoing. I even full on ugly cried (as he was screaming) this week at his school. In front of parents and teachers alike.
So here’s what I keep telling myself:
I didn’t fail.
I’m not failing.
I’m learning.
And so is he.
That’s the job — to keep showing up while it’s still messy. To admit what you don’t know. To let love be louder than fear. This will be his superpower someday after all. If you’re in it too — maybe not the same thing, but your version — I see you. And I promise: you’re still a good parent. Especially right now.
