“I know it sounds ridiculous,” she said softly, “but I worry about everything.”
A mom with tired eyes sat across from me, explaining why she refused to leave her child with anyone—even for a moment of respite.
“I can’t stand the comments when I pick her up. I see how rejected she is by the other children. I would rather her just be with me. It’s easier that way.”
I understood completely. Every parent worries about countless small things, but parents of trauma-impacted kids live in a magnified version of that reality. All the normal parenting fears—multiplied.
Parents of neurotypical kids dropping their child off at a sleepaway camp might worry about:
Who will remind her to brush her teeth?
Will the counselors keep the kids safe at the lake?
What if she gets homesick?
When I dropped my own child off for his first summer camp at fourteen, my panic was overwhelming. The camp was 2 hours and 13 minutes away, and I kept my entire week wide open—good thing, because on the first day he lost his glasses at the bottom of the lake. I spent a whole day driving back to deliver another pair.
I worried other kids would influence him. They did—he smoked pot for the first time at Christian camp.
I worried he’d act impulsively and get hurt. He did—he caught a marshmallow on fire and slung it into his own cheek, leaving a pink scar for months.
I worried about girls. He greeted me at pickup holding hands with a girl he introduced as his girlfriend—the first of hundreds—this one being the hardest for me to accept. I cried the entire night after bringing him home.
When you parent trauma-impacted kids, the things you fear often do happen. And that reality can swallow you whole if your identity rests only in parenting.











