Parents who claim to never lie to their children are liars. It begins with Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. Then it’s yes, all kindergartners go to bed at 7 o’clock and no, the chickens on the farm and the chicken on your plate are not the same kind of chicken. Most of these untruths are harmless — white lies, we call them. But there are some lies we tell as parents, however well intentioned, that do more harm than good.
I learned that lesson the hard way.
When I was 11, I underwent a complex procedure to correct a discrepancy in the length of my legs. Surgeons spent 13 hours drilling through my bones and attaching an external metal frame from my hip to my toe. It took them the next two years to stretch my leg three inches. The pain was so severe that morphine, other opioids, Valium and muscle relaxants were all standard protocol. Yet, before the surgery, when I asked if it would hurt, the only thing I remember being told was “Don’t worry, we have ways to manage any unpleasantness.” The difference between what I was told and what I experienced shattered my faith in doctors and left me questioning whether I could trust adults at all. Now, as a parent — and through my years working in health care — I’ve made the conscious decision never to lie to people about pain. Even with something as small as a routine vaccination, even before they see the needle coming toward them. Yes, I say, it may hurt.
Many parents opt instead to reassure their children. Since they can’t stop the needle from hurting, they believe the next best thing is to offer comfort. But when the pain does inevitably come, it’s accompanied by a heaping side of betrayal. Lies that mislead children about their experiences are not white lies. Though they may appear innocuous, they erode the fabric of the fundamental and necessary trust between parent and child. They create an emotional wound not easily healed. The pain of discovering you have been deceived by a trusted adult can cut deeper and last longer than the pain of an unavoidable medical intervention.
In any case, although sugarcoating might make us feel better, it doesn’t help our children — it can actually intensify their discomfort. In an experiment on how parents communicate with children before immunizations, children showed more fear and had to be restrained more after their parents reassured them. Children fared better when their parents were randomly assigned to distract them, or even do nothing. Before the shots, the parents who provided reassurance felt the least upset and the most helpful. But afterward, they felt the most distressed; they realized their attempts to help had actually hurt.
Researchers advise against statements like “This won’t hurt,” “There is nothing to worry about” and “Don’t cry” because they can backfire. Children may interpret them as a warning sign, and they may end up experiencing more distress and pain than they would have otherwise. Lying to children robs them of the opportunity to learn to express difficult emotions in healthy ways and can contribute to future anxiety.
So why do parents and providers get this wrong? Most of the time it’s out of benevolence, not bad blood. Parents are myopic; they’re trying to make their kids feel better in the moment without considering how lying to them will affect them in the future. They may fall victim to wishful thinking. Maybe it won’t be as bad as I think it will be. They’re trying to make themselves feel better because it doesn’t just hurt to see your child in pain; it hurts to feel responsible for it, too.
Another explanation for this type of deception is that parents and providers often underestimate the resilience of children. We spend so much time trying to protect our kids that we often see them as more fragile than they really are. The truth is that they can handle more than we realize.
Rather than intentionally misleading our children, we should be looking for ways to make the pain more manageable. In one study of ear piercings, children whose parents told them they would feel a “medium amount” of pain had a more pleasant experience than those who got no information in advance. Having a realistic preview of the sensations they would encounter left children feeling prepared instead of surprised and hurt.
Before my kids get their blood drawn, I remind them that it will feel like a big pinch. Before any nonroutine intervention, I tell them exactly what’s involved and what it will feel like. With the exception of emergencies, they know there won’t be any surprises. Being forthcoming with kids empowers them to ask questions because they feel they’re going to get honest answers, even if they might be unpleasant ones.
“That’s the thing about pain,” the novelist John Green wrote. “It demands to be felt.” For that reason, it deserves to be acknowledged, too. While we can’t always protect children from pain itself, what we can shield them from is the pain of betrayal. We should tell our kids when it’s going to hurt. In the long run, it will hurt them a whole lot less.
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