avoiding fear-based parenting

Dr. Sarah Bergman-Lewis

As the frenetic fun of summer subsides and we transition into the many new beginnings that come with fall, a familiar friend in parenting can become louder.

Fear.

Before our babies even arrive, fear is a parenting companion. We know it is going to be along for the ride, but how do we move it out of the driver’s seat?

Facing our limits

We have all been there—the feel of a fever on our child’s forehead in the night elicits our own hot, visceral response. Our tween comes home with a story of being teased, and we immediately bristle into fight-or-flight.

We are wired to protect our children from pain. And beneath that fear we feel is the fact that we ultimately have little control over our children and their lives. That tension between wanting control but sensing we never fully have it leaves us clinching our jaws, unable to sleep, and “white knuckling” it through parenthood.

We take necessary precautions — consume prenatal vitamins, install car seats, purchase bike helmets, and enroll the kids in swim lessons. And yet, as much as we try, as much as we want to, we cannot always protect our children from emotional or physical harm.

Does that deliver the same gut punch to you as it does to me?

The fear-based parenting trap

Fear-based parenting can feel like one false move– feeding the wrong formula, selecting the wrong activities, saying the wrong words—and your family is doomed. But here are two very important things:

First, steps can and should be taken to reduce risks in childhood, but ultimately, even the most vigilant parenting cannot ensure a kid’s well-being.

And second, there are negative outcomes that will come from fear-based parenting. Let’s talk about those:

Vulnerable child syndrome describes a phenomenon in which parents perceive a child as fragile and more at risk for medical, developmental, or behavioral problems. This belief often stems from an early experience, for example, having jaundice or high blood sugar as a newborn. Parents then become overprotective of that child long after the initial concern has passed. A child may be diagnosed with an innocent heart murmur and told there is no need for restrictions, and yet the parent still keeps them out of sports to be “extra cautious.”

In my office, I’ve had a parent ask: “Do you think my child isn’t talking because of the vomiting illness during my pregnancy?” In that question, they were trying to link two unrelated events. Compared to other children, including their siblings, these kids, whose parents perceive them as fragile, get more medical services, which may also lead to seeing themselves as chronically unwell.

Muting fear means muting all emotions. It turns out that our ability to feel pain and joy is linked. When fear takes center stage in parenting, it pushes out the other more nuanced feelings that add color and connection to our lives.

If we can’t feel our own range of feelings, we also prevent kids from feeling their own. In the office, I watch as parents cringe when their baby cries as I examine their ears. When parents say “It’s ok, it’s ok” or put the phone in a child’s face to distract them, I try to gently suggest saying instead, “I hear you. You don’t like this feeling, but you are safe, and it will be over soon.” In doing this, we are teaching our kids that their feelings, even the negative ones, are valid and that their feelings don’t scare us parents—even if they kinda do!

Focusing on our fear puts us at the center of our kids’ show. Fear-based parenting seeks to prevent or fix a kid’s discomfort. Every time we rescue our children from hard situations, we send them the message that we think they can’t handle hard situations. Allowing our kids the space to work through their own struggles also allows them to find their own solutions.

A recent text from my 14-year-old said: “Just did something genius. I was having a hard morning, so I pretended to go back to sleep and woke up again, and it felt like a really good fresh start.” As a parent, I’ve come to respect Joyful Courage podcaster Casey O’Roury’s mantra of being “fiercely committed but lovingly detached.” Although it often runs counter to our instincts, this lofty but worthwhile goal of being “lovingly detached” can lead to smarter, more effective parenting.

Letting go of our illusion of control

All that is to say that letting go of our illusion of control is a key step to more well-adjusted kids and fulfilling parenting. But how do we do that? Here are a few places to start:

Practice expanding our own window of tolerance to uncertainty and negative emotions. As a pediatrician, I hear every iteration of “Is this normal?” Is it normal that my daughter isn’t crawling? Is it normal for my child to play alone? Behind such questions is always the bigger question: “What if?”. What if my child has a developmental delay? What if my child has worsening depression? “What if” questions lead to speculating and often catastrophizing. Instead, consider diverting some of that “what if” energy toward building our own skills to manage uncertainty.
Get familiar with your fear. Trace your own fears forward and back. Honor that your fears likely stemmed from the worthy place of trying to protect you at some point. While taking time to dig into the specifics of your fears can seem counterintuitive to alleviating them, this can actually be more productive than all the ways we try to skirt around them. Following a fear all the way through (what would happen if ….and then what…) can be oddly settling.
Know your weak spots. Each of us has an Achilles heel of pain that feels most threatening. For some, physical pain is scarier than emotional pain. For others, it’s the reverse. Recognizing our own patterns allows us to better notice when we are in tricky territory while parenting and to proceed thoughtfully.
Recognize when worry has moved into anxiety. Crisis mode can easily become the default mode even when the imminent danger is passed. Even if you are really “in it” with a challenging parenting chapter, offer yourself grace and lower the standards for everyone. Look for ways to help your body catch up when the intensity of the crisis starts to level off. Consider a brisk walk or a shower, or if you can, a massage. This may also be the time to reach out for help from a health professional.
Check in with your body. When fear turns up, our brains go into overdrive, and we often lose touch with what is being communicated below our neck. Practice listening to your own needs. Are you hungry, fatigued, or restless? Prioritize tending to those needs. Often the next best step is as simple as taking a breath or even a drink of water.
Trust your kids. Whether your kids have been on the earth for one week or twenty years, they are more durable than you think. Practice trusting your child’s body and honoring their unique journey. Kids will continue to surprise you with their resilience. Lean on whatever practices you need to reinforce one very important truth: Most things do work out eventually.
No need to do this alone. Accepting the innate vulnerability of parenting is not for the faint of heart. Reach out. Text a friend when things get scary. As I was writing this, I got a text from my sister: “Is it normal for breathing to be fast with a fever?”

One last thought

Even as a doctor, I have posed that same question as I stand in that middle-of-the-night snakepit called fear. In writing back to my sister—“Yes, it’s normal”— I am also saying, “I am with you as you are with your child, and together, we can face this fear.

And you know what? We can and do far more often than we think.