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upworthy

Kimberly Zapata

man and two children on grass field

When I conceived my first born, I was elated. I took four at-home tests to confirm the news, peeing on my hand four times — and on four different sticks. I rushed to the city to tell my husband, with a congratulatory card and a few goodies in a yellow gift bag. There was a pacifier, a bottle, and an adorable Big Bird brush and comb set. And I called my doctor within hours. I scheduled an ultrasound the following week. But when I told everyone else the news, they wanted to know about my unborn baby's sex. Did I want a boy, they asked, or a girl?

I said I didn't care because I didn't. I wanted a child, to be sure. A happy, healthy baby who could (and presumably would) grow to become a happy, healthy kid. But everyone was focused on colors. On labels. Would I be a dance mom or a soccer mom? Would my shower be decorated with pink balloons or blue? And while I learned at my 20-week checkup that I was having a daughter — that I would be having a baby girl — I didn't identify as a "girl mom." My daughter is 8 and I still don't. Because sex doesn't define my daughter. It doesn't dictate her interests or mine, and it doesn't affect how I parent. I treat my son and daughter (more or less) the same. Because I'm not a boy mom or a girl mom, I'm just Mom, and that's an important distinction.



It is a paradigm shift we all should make.

You see, the insistence on gendering your child is odd and forced. I mean, in doing so parents find a sense of security. Of stability. They "relate" to one another's struggles and plights. But my daughter (and son's) sex doesn't define them. Their parts do not determine how they play or their worth — i.e. when my daughter was little she climbed trees and scuffed her knees; my son says his favorite color is pink and he plays with trucks and baby dolls — and their assigned sex isn't any more reflective of their personality than their nose or forefinger. It is a biological component, a physical part of their makeup and DNA.

Plus, when we refer to ourselves as boy moms or girl moms we support and reiterate stereotypes, i.e. boys are rambunctious and rowdy while girls are emotional and sensitive. The former likes potty humor while the latter should cook and clean, and this is dangerous. It repeats history and the message of old, outdated tapes. It reaffirms that in our society there are sex-specific roles, and this sets back our girls yet again, teaching them what they aren't, what they should be, and what they can't do. It teaches our sons to be cold and callous and emotionally withdrawn.

two babies and woman sitting on sofa while holding baby and watching on tabletPhoto by Alexander Dummer on Unsplash

There's also another problem with these labels, i.e. when we refer to ourselves as boy moms and girl moms we (unwittingly) force our children into boxes which they may not fit. While many children's "gender identity aligns with their assigned gender... for some children, the match between their assigned gender and gender identity is not so clear," an article by Healthy Children states. Telling them what they are and who they should be can create inner turmoil. It can cause children to feel scared, angry, isolated, misunderstood, helpless, hopeless, and alone.

"Young people who are transgender feel powerfully that they are not the gender assigned to them at birth," an article by the Child Mind Institute states. "Even young children might say, 'No, I'm really a boy' or 'No, I'm really a girl' [and] as they get older, they may feel extremely uncomfortable in their bodies," the article continues. "Th[is] disconnect between their experienced gender and their assigned gender can result in acute distress called gender dysphoria... which can be a source of profound suffering."

woman in white t-shirt standing beside woman in black and white stripe shirtPhoto by Hillshire Farm on Unsplash

So instead of labeling your children and yourself, consider just going. Just doing. Just being #Mom. Because our children deserve a happy, healthy childhood. They deserve the chance to roam and play and develop on their own, and they should become well-rounded people not because of labels or boundaries but in spite of them. I want my oldest to explore her love of science and math. Right now, I just want my youngest to stop licking strangers and eating dirt. But she will, if she wants. He will, as he grows, and that's because I'm not a boy mom or a girl mom. I'm just Mom — a person and parent who loves her children unconditionally. A person and parent who loves her children, no matter what.








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After a long, trying, and chaotic year, things are (slowly) getting back to normal. Malls are open. Restaurants are welcoming customers again — with many serving up hope alongside hors d'oeuvres — and employees across the country are returning to the office. This fall, our children will go back to school. But this return to "normal" is affecting the youngest members of our society in ways few expected. Case in point: Many children are struggling with separation anxiety, or an extraordinary fear of being separated from their parents or caretaker[s].

"All children and teens experience anxiety," Sabrina Romanoff, a clinical psychologist and professor at Yeshiva University in New York, tells Upworthy. "It is a normative process of development... [however,] there has been an uptick in separation-related anxiety due to the pandemic."



"Separation anxiety is when a child becomes fearful or worried when they are separated from their parent or caretaker," Ben Barer — a licensed clinical social worker — adds. "The feelings that are commonly felt include excessive worry, nervousness, sadness, and loneliness."

Of course, the response is — in many ways — unsurprising. Most children have been living under one roof for 17 months. They lacked structure, traditional schooling, playdates, and (in some cases) socialization and friends. Mommy and Daddy were all they knew. But as schools across the nation open their doors, and teachers welcome children back to class, fear is rising: fear of COVID, socialization, progress, and being alone.


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"Separation anxiety happens when someone becomes co-dependent on another person and becomes excessively nervous when they are not within their presence," Jacqueline P. Wight, the director of mental health at DotCom Therapy, tells Parade. "It is common in children with their parents/caregivers and is known to become increasingly worse during times of stress." Like now. The pandemic has been a major stressor for parents and children alike.

So how can you cope with separation anxiety? How can you help your child get a handle on their fears — and manage stress? According to Barer, there are numerous things you can do to ease your child back into a "normal" routine.

"Depending on the child's age, there are several helpful strategies that can be implemented at the time of separation so the child will be able to cope better with his or her feelings," Barer says. "For example, if your toddler is starting daycare, visiting the daycare beforehand and doing a tour of the facility can be helpful for the toddler, as this will not be an entirely new experience for them when they get dropped off. If your child is around elementary age, having discussions about what drop off might look like, what feelings the child might feel when being separated, and even parents sharing their own feelings can be reassuring for the child. It helps them learn that feelings of worry and nervousness are completely normal. And teens can benefit from conversations like this, too."

"Talking to your child and providing them with encouragement and support is imperative," Romanoff adds — regardless of their age.


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Of course, there are other things you should do, too.

"Develop a routine for saying goodbye to your child," Wight suggests. "This will look different for each child, but think of special, loving ways to say goodbye when you will be separated. Be honest with your child about the plan. If you're picking them up at the end of the school day, say it. With the best of intentions, parents and caregivers might be inclined to share a plan that is easier for the child to hear, but not necessarily the truth. However, honesty is best. If your child is experiencing anxiety about returning to school, be sure that your child socializes with friends beforehand in order to ease the transition. If there is a specific situation that causes the anxiety (ex. school drop off), get lots of practice in advance." And prepare them now for "alone time," i.e. it's necessary to expose your child to being separated from you.

"It's always best to take small steps at first," Wight explains. "Identify an adult that the child feels most comfortable with and have that adult watch the child for a short amount of time. If that goes well, slowly increase the amount of time. If there are one or two friends that your child is most eager to see, set up a time for them to play/hang out when you will not be present. Make it a time-limited activity and share the plan with the child so that they know what to expect. And if, at any point, the child struggles with an experience, consider trying that experience again with some more preparation, problem-solving, etc. prior to moving on to new experiences." In short, take things easily. Slowly. Baby steps.


That said, while parents and caregivers can approach this issue with the best of intentions and the best (and most thorough) of plans, sometimes children need more. Parental support isn't always enough, especially in cases of anxiety — when you're dealing with the effects of a mental health. If you feel your child isn't responding to the aforementioned suggestions as you would like and/or if they are still experiencing extreme feelings of nervousness, apprehension, sadness, or fear, you may want to reach out for additional support.

"Parents do not need to wait until their child's struggle feels like a crisis to get help," Wight explains. "In fact, it's actually best to proactively seek support. And while parents know their children best, there are qualified and thoughtful professionals that can help parents and their children navigate through challenging situations."

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It's been 19 months since the first case of COVID-19 was identified in Wuhan, China, and since that time, a lot has changed. Cities, states, and entire countries endured rolling shutdowns — or lockdowns. Business shuttered and schools were closed, and life as we knew it changed. From mask mandates to social distancing, every action and behavior was altered. But as infection rates begin to drop, we are making a comeback. Restaurants, movie theaters, and malls are (now) open. Business is (more or less) back, and this fall, most children will return to the classroom. In-person education will resume. But what does life look like in a post-pandemic world, particularly for the youngest members of our society?

"The COVID-19 pandemic affected our kids in many ways that we don't yet fully understand," Laura Lofy — a licensed psychologist and school psychologist — tells Upworthy. "Some desperately missed their classmates. Others fell behind on schoolwork, and some became riddled with anxiety and fear. Many regressed on skills they had developed or lost momentum in areas in which they had been making progress." And one of those areas is interpersonal, i.e. many children are struggling socially, and this has the potential to have a long-lasting impact on our children and the next generation.



"Since March 2020, there's been a significant increase in reported youth anxiety, particularly in relation to fears of the coronavirus, along with greater frustration, boredom, insomnia and inattention," an article on The Conversation explains. "Results of a survey from summer 2020 found that over 45% of adolescents reported symptoms of depression, anxiety and post-traumatic stress." Resuming face-to-face interactions is also a major stressor. But what can we do as parents and caregivers to help our children progress? How can we help them (re)acclimate to life? The first thing we should do is temper our (and their) expectations.

"It's important to have realistic expectations and recognize upfront that this is going to be hard," pediatric psychologist Kate Eshleman tells the Cleveland Clinic. "Kids haven't had to share with others, and they haven't had to talk to unfamiliar adults," Dr. Eshleman says. "You may see some shyness or kids responding to other people in ways that aren't typical of how they act around their families." But these obstacles can be overcome, with time, encouragement, and a bit of guidance.

"I think the most valuable thing that parents can do is ask open-ended questions, listen carefully to what their kids are saying, validate their experiences and feelings, and revisit the topic often and from different angles," Lofy says. "Including kids in conversations to explore their experiences and understanding of what happened will also be really helpful."


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Not sure how (or where) to begin? Sharing one's own reflections can be a good jumping off point. "You could say something like, 'You know, it's kind of weird going back to work. On one hand, I am excited to see my friends, but on the other hand, I kind of liked being home with my family. What about you and school? How do you feel about going back?' I highly recommend that parents practice asking open-ended questions, using starters like 'tell me about...' and "what was that like for you,'" Lofy adds. "Give them room to speak and then use validation to convey understanding."

Of course, there are other ways prepare your child for post-pandemic socialization — and post-pandemic life. Start small. Birthday parties and trips to Disney may be overwhelming but an ice cream playdate could be perfect. Give them conversation starters. Communication may be tricky at first, but having ideas can help. Dr. Eshleman and the Cleveland Clinic suggest creating a list of questions and talking points. "Come up with a handful of topics they can ask their friends about in person. Arming them with age-appropriate questions (i.e. 'Did you go on vacation this summer?' and 'What's your favorite thing for lunch?') will help kids feel better prepared to converse face to face." You should also be sympathetic and empathetic. Use validating language and acknowledge their struggles, and take things slow, particularly with toddlers and young children who have had very little or no pre-COVID interactions.

"Hire a babysitter or enlist the help of an extended family member to watch your child while you run errands or even just work in the yard, which will give them practice in being apart from you," the Cleveland Clinic explains.

That said, this approach will not work for everyone. Some children are experiencing higher levels of anxiety, and not everyone is ready for social re-entry — and that's okay. Getting back to "normal" will take time. But according to Tiiu Lutter, a licensed therapist and the co-founder of Thriving Families Center, these fears should be addressed sooner than later.

"When left alone, anxiety gets worse, so the sooner it is faced and handled, the quicker it goes away." '

But what can you do? According to Lofy, you should acknowledge their fears, normalize their feelings, you should help them assess the situation — and weigh the real versus perceived risk — and come up with a plan to move forward. Having executable steps helps.

"If your child experiences social anxieties, you should start a conversation about their fears," Lofy says. "What is it they are concerned about? Put their fears into a 'normal' context. Reassure them their feelings are normal and that other kids are nervous as well. They are not alone in feeling anxious. You should also have a plan for their anxiety. Prime your child for a social event. Talk with them about what they will be doing and who will be there. Practice your deep breathing before the event, and before you get out to the car practice your strategies, remind your child they will be safe and you want them to have fun."

If your child is still unable to move forward, you may want to enlist the help of a trained professional. Clinical psychologists, school psychologists, and child therapists have tools that we as parents do not. Another great resource, particularly for teens, is Crisis Text Line. This is free, 24/7 service puts your child in touch with a trained crisis counselor immediately, via text.

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I'll never forget the exhilaration I felt as I headed into the city on July 3, 2018. My pink hair was styled. I wore it up in a high ponytail, though I left two tendrils down. Two tendrils which framed my face. My makeup was done. I wore shadow on my eyes and blush on my cheeks, blush which gave me color. Which brought my pale complexion to life. And my confidence grew each time my heels clacked against the concrete.

My confidence grew with each and every step.

Why? Because I was a strong woman. A city woman. A woman headed to interview for her dream job.

I nailed the interview. Before I boarded the bus back home, I had an offer letter in my inbox. I was a news writer, with a salary and benefits, but a strange thing happened 13 months later. I quit said job in an instant. On a whim. I walked down Fifth Avenue and never looked back. And while there were a few reasons why I quit that warm, summer day: I was a new(ish) mom. A second-time mom, and I missed my children. Spending an hour with them each day just wasn't enough. My daughter was struggling in school. She needed oversight. Guidance. She needed my help. And my commute was rough. I couldn't cover the exorbitant cost of childcare. The real reason I quit was because my mental health was failing.



I live with bipolar disorder and anxiety disorder and was going through a dark period. My depression was all-consuming. I struggled to get up and out of bed. My anxiety had also peaked. I was having near-daily panic attacks: with my breakfast. During our department's morning meeting. On the bus.

At first, I was afraid. Leaving my job was terrifying, personally and financially. I worried I was ruining my life, my family, and my career. Plus, my husband and I had no savings or nest egg. There was no backup plan. I was also ashamed. Millions of people live with mental illness — I was (and am not) unique — and they juggle both balls. They have a handle on their health and hold down a job. But I didn't. I couldn't, and that was discouraging.

It made me feel like a failure.

I thought I was weak.

But I wanted to take a risk. I needed to take a risk, for my happiness and my health. So I left my job, and immediately, a weight lifted off of me. I felt free. I had time for therapy appointments and counseling sessions. I could read, reflect, journal, and write. There was also time for self-care. I ran almost every morning. Without work, I found the energy to get up and shower everyday. But the shame persisted because I was incapacitated, contagious, or broken. This disease was "all in my head," or so I had been taught. Or so I had been told.

You see, when you are sick your doctor tells you to take time off. They encourage you to rest and recover and stay home. When you are going through medical issues, like chemotherapy or cancer treatments, there are numerous medical accommodations you can make, i.e. paid time off aside, there is short-term disability, long-term disability, and the Family Medical Leave Act. And if you have COVID-19 — or think you may have COVID-19 — you are told to quarantine for 10 days. For nearly two weeks. But mental illness? When you are depressed you are told to buck up — and suck it up. Society suggests you should just push through. It is also hard to get documentation saying you are too sick to work because mental illness is subjective. But everyone has limits.

It's important you listen to your body and your mind.

Make no mistake: I know leaving my job was a privileged decision. Many people cannot do so because their insurance covers therapy. Because without work, they cannot pay their mortgage, rent, or other bills. Many people cannot leave their job because there are true disparities in the (mental) healthcare system. Accessibility is an issue, as is stigma. And many people cannot leave their job because they do not have emotional and financial support — which I get that. Truly, I do. But there is help. There are options. You do not have to do this alone.

So talk to your psychiatrist, if you have one. Find a therapist, if you can. Say "no" when you're able to, to preserve your time and energy. To help clear your plate, and speak with your employer. Determine what you can do and what things you have the power to change, because while it is hard to take time off for mental illness, it is a covered condition. You should not be (or feel) ashamed. It is also imperative you realize your self worth, i.e. you matter. Your physical, emotional, and mental health matter. And knowing that is imperative. Paying bills is important, but breathing and being is invaluable.