Sitting in the stands with my stomach in knots. Replaying the car ride home and wondering if I said the wrong thing. Trying to figure out how much to push, when to step back, and whether my kid was okay.
I’ve watched a bad loss follow my daughter through the whole week, and I’ve stood frozen at the kitchen counter, not sure if she needed a pep talk or just a hug. I’ve second-guessed every decision about schedules, coaches, and specialization, and I’ve worried about whether all of it was worth it.
I’m a sports psychiatrist, but I’m also a sports mom of three daughters, and I found out fast that medical school doesn’t prepare you for parenting your own athletes.