A few weeks ago, I was deeply immersed in an article I was editing when I heard a high-pitched wail from downstairs.
The acoustics of my parents’ house are so porous that even when my children have meltdowns from a distance away, they sound like they are happening in my face. So I could hear that my 4-year-old was sobbing because she decided she could not tolerate the sound of the washing machine, a noise that had never, ever bothered her before. Three other sentient adults – my parents and my husband – attended to my daughter’s hulking out.
Intellectually, I understood that my daughter had the support she needed from multiple loving caretakers. And yet I felt my heart start to race, my blood pressure spike, and some part of my lizard brain was telling me to go comfort my child. I resisted the impulse as I heard the others wipe away my little girl’s tears, but it took me another half an hour to get my concentration back, and it made me wonder: Was this visceral response typical for parents, or was it unique to me?
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