How to Break the Comparison Cycle as a Medical Parent

Introduction: We All Compare Grief

Comparing grief is something we all do, whether we mean to or not. We see someone across the hall and think, “Wow, I could never do what they do,” or “They’ll never understand.”

But comparison creates barriers—between friends, family, and even strangers who could become something meaningful in our lives. And in medically complex families, we compare too. Everyone compares grief.

When a Wall Rises Between Us

Sometimes we fail to solve a problem because we don’t see the simple truth behind it. When something creates a wall, the solution is to break the wall down. And if facts don’t seem to do it, we have to brainstorm a little.

Becoming a medical parent is what pushed me headfirst into this “brainstorming” path.

The First Time We Felt “Different”

The first time my husband, Paige, and I were with my family after her long hospital stay—after surgeries, diagnoses, her trach, everything—we were different. We weren’t the same John and Sylvia, and I felt it deeply.

The conversations, the worries, the small talk… it all felt foreign. Our marriage had changed too. It was like we had walked through fire and were suddenly standing there trying to participate in normal conversation.

When your child almost dies (or dies), you are changed. And with that change comes a temptation: to isolate, to judge, to stop trying to find common ground because “they just don’t understand.”

Is It Comparison—or Transformation?

But is that really “comparing”? Maybe it’s a life change, a stage you walk through. I think it’s both.

The life stage—the refinement and the experience—gives you a new perspective. What you do with that perspective is what becomes comparison, isolation, or—if you choose it—a whole new world of wisdom and unexpected blessings.

Taking Down the Wall

This barrier, this wall that tries to convince us other people’s experiences are “lesser,” can be taken down. And I believe it should be, especially if we want our lives to glorify God.

But how?

The wall sits between us and others—family, friends, church, fellow parents. Breaking it down can be as simple as finding common feelings and emotions.

A Lesson From a Friend

I remember talking with one of my best friends about her struggles feeding her child solid foods. At first, I felt grief and frustration rise up. “How could you worry about that? Your child eats. My girl can’t.”

But because I love her, I tried to shift my perspective. What was she feeling? Exasperation. Fear. Impatience.

Had I ever felt those? Yes—many times. The principles that helped me through my challenges could help her through hers. Comparing her oral-eating child with mine, who uses a g-tube, would only tear down a bridge that could have connected us.

Finding Connection Again

Eventually we were able to talk freely—about my daughter’s seizure meds and her child’s soy sauce intolerance—and we could laugh and enjoy each other again.

We chose not to isolate but to focus on our reactions as mothers and the shared emotions beneath our different circumstances.

A seizure medication is as important to me as Tylenol or Motrin is to you. The scales look different, but in the end, we may be standing at the same level.

I may be exasperated because the feeding pump clogged again; you may be worn out from a sleepless night. We are both moms—just trying to take care of our babies.

A Gentle Challenge to Medical Parents

Stay Tuned

There’s another side to this coin—the “I don’t know how I could ever do that…” side—but my words are already long.

So stay tuned for next week. 😉