Am I a Bad Parent (or just insenitive)?

No matter how hard you try, parents cannot protect their children from every danger. Toddlers fall down and bust their lips; elementary school kids fall out of trees; middle schoolers don't always wear pads when they roller blade; and high schoolers? Since they have wheels, and money, and fearlessness, there's no limit to the potential dangers they face. And your out-of-school young adults? They may be out of sight, but they're never out of mind.

Worst telephone call I ever received was years ago on a Saturday in early February when my oldest son told me my oldest daughter Lonelli had suffered a serious skiing accident. They were both in high school at the time. I was home alone and felt immediate, overwhelming panic. My son told me she was being transported by ambulance to a hospital in Pontiac and that I should get there as soon as possible. Compounding my fear was the fact that Clarisa was at a retreat and could not be easily reached by telephone. I had to handle this by myself. So, I got in the car and sped to the hospital, worrying all the way.

I experienced no similar panic Saturday when I watched my son break his leg right before my eyes. It barely registered a response.

Isaac was playing in a baseball tournament and was having his best game yet. In two innings of pitching he struck out three batters with a nasty curve ball and hadn't allowed a runner on base. In other words, he had a perfect game going. Then, in the top of the third, he hit a looping single into right field. The outfielder misplayed the ball and Isaac saw an opportunity to stretch a single into a double. Unfortunately, the center fielder got the ball quickly and made a good throw to second base. Isaac tried to slide under the tag without success. He was out. Worse, he was also in pain.

Isaac hobbled off the field wincing every step. It looked to me like he turned his ankle on the slide. Then I worried whether he could return to the mound and pitch. I was also a little embarrassed about my son's base running. With his speed, he would have stolen second base anyway. Why did he have to get greedy?

With his coach tending to the ankle, I stayed away from the dugout. After the side was retired, Isaac hopped up and headed out to the mound. He wanted to continue pitching, however, after a few steps, he turned around and told his coach he was unable to keep throwing. His leg really hurt. I was disappointed. After watching other teammates that weekend leave games with various injuries, none of which seemed too serious, now my son, the ultimate tough kid, had joined the ranks of the quitters. How embarrassing!

Now the injury got my attention. Isaac would never leave a game with a perfect game going unless he was hurting. Coach said it was a high ankle sprain and he wrapped his lower leg in ice. Isaac remained on the bench that inning, but he had difficulty focusing on the game. He was in pain and his face showed it.

By the middle of the fourth inning, Coach came to Clarisa and me and told us to take Isaac home. "He's not going to do any pinch running today," he said with a forced laugh. While I understood it was distracting for the team to have an injured player in agony on the bench, it seemed a little cold to be kicked out so abruptly. And, again, I felt sightly embarrassed. Why couldn't my son mask his pain better and keep his best game face on? We were winning after all.

At that point none of us--not me, not Coach, not his mother, not even Isaac, believed his leg was broken. In fact, I had Isaac walk with me nearly a quarter mile to our car for the trip home. While Isaac wrapped one arm around my shoulder, he walked the whole way.

Who's embarrassed now?

"The right fibula has a spiral fracture," Dr. Leone said flatly to me an hour later in the Emergency Room at Cottage Hospital.

"His leg is broken?" I responded with obvious amazement.

"Yes, but the bone is not displaced," replied Dr. Leone. "Do you need a referral to an orthopedic surgeon?"

Surgeon? Broken leg? Jesus Christ, was this some kind of sick joke? We only went to the ER because my wife insisted. I never imagined the boy sustained a serious injury. My face turned bright red with embarrassment.

I wasn't the only one who felt shame that day. The dismissive coach--yeah the guy who evicted us from the game--when he heard the news of Isaac's broken leg, he called the house twice to inquire about the boy's condition. He also personally spoke to an orthopedic surgeon and arranged for us to have an appointment first thing on Monday. "He's the best in town," said Coach. Guilt has a way of motivating action.

Now time for me to reflect.

If one of my daughters had been in pain that day, I would have carried her in my arms all the way to the car. I would have felt fear over her condition. And, I would have done everything in my power to keep her comfortable. My son received far less compassion. I made him walk on a broken leg and didn't feel that much concern for his pain. "If he couldn't handle it, he'd tell me," I thought. Kinda brutal, don't you think? Isaac did not complain about the walk to the car or the bumpy ride to the hospital. He didn't say a word, though his quiet tears communicated a different story.

Later on, Isaac said he was relieved to hear that his leg was broken. He said that a broken leg proved he wasn't being a wimp. And, God knows, nothing worse than being a wimp!

I've heard many parents say it's easier to raise boys than girls. Girls' lives are full of obvious drama. Their moods swing wildly as they deal with school and relationships. Young girls are vocal about their feelings, and, as a parent, it can be exhausting trying to remain sympathetic when their problems sound so trivial.

Boys, on the other hand, learn early on to suppress their feelings. While adults allow girls to express themselves freely, boys learn that its unbecoming to cry, to fret over who likes them and who doesn't, or pay attention to their appearance. And physical pain? We tell our boys they should "man up" and stop "acting like a little girl." So boys bury pain, fear, and emotions deep inside.

Boys aren't easier to raise than girls, parents simply spend less time helping them sort through their issues. And I'm guilty, too. I consider myself a sensitive father. However, on Saturday I was disappointed in my son when I should have been comforting him.

As penance for my bad behavior, I have been appointed Isaac's manservant during his school's three-day field trip to Chicago. Clarisa had signed up to chaperone, but now with a wheelchair and crutches in tow, we believe it will be easier for Isaac if his Dad assumes the burden of lifting, carrying, etc. We also think his friends will more likely hang out with him if I'm there. After all, how many 13-year-old boys want to be around someone whose Mommy is caring for him non-stop? My wife has serious questions about whether I will properly attend to Isaac in Chicago. I tell her not to worry, I've learned my lesson.

I want my son to feel secure expressing his feelings around me without fear of retribution or encountering my disapproval. At the same time, I want him prepared to live in a world where men are expected to be strong, level-headed, and with their emotions kept firmly in check. I want to help him grow into being a strong, confident man. But, in the process of helping him become a man, I don't want to crush his spirit or create a macho monster. How do I strike that balance? Carefully.

First, I must constantly nurture his self confidence. Isaac must know that I respect his achievements and that I'm always in his corner. The better Isaac feels about himself, the more likely he'll feel comfortable expressing emotions and feelings. If he knows my love is secure, the more likely the subtle messages of disapproval will brush off.

Second, Isaac must choose his friends carefully. Middle schoolers can be brutal. Boys who express their feelings are sometimes labeled as wimps, whiners, fags. They are laughed at and can be the butts of cruel pranks. Isaac must know that to persecute other boys because they seem weak, or even to approve of such bullying behavior, is evil and cannot be tolerated. He can do even more. While he might put his popularity at risk, Isaac can model positive behaviors to his peers--like befriending a maligned child.

Finally I need to model sensitive behavior, too. Seems like the emotions Isaac gets from me are joy when he achieves things, and anger when, well when he acts up. I can show him more emotional range.

For example, I should show him tenderness. I hug and kiss my wife and daughters, I must do the same with him. It is not unmanly for a father to love his son and to show it through tenderness. I should also share with him other feelings. He should know sometimes when I'm afraid, when I'm lonely, and when I feel weak. How is Isaac supposed to deal with those feelings if he's never seen a man deal with similar feelings, especially a man he knows and trusts?

After writing this posting I still have a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. I failed my son and it doesn't feel good. It's clear that despite my best efforts, I'm an overly competitive, insensitive boor who failed to care properly for my child when my child needed me. In the end, while you cannot stop bad things from happening to your children, a parent can control how they react when these bad things happen. I can do better. I'm not looking for you to reassure me that how I acted wasn't that bad. I'm looking to change--and I hope that by sharing this story, I'm taking a positive step toward being a better father.