Parenthood III: The Umbilical Cord

In my time in practice, I’ve had some genuinely goofy conversations with patients. For better or worse, open-mindedness has never been my problem.

One conversation in particular, spoke about the bond—almost a cord—that exists between parents and children. At the core of that bond is a simple but powerful desire: every child wants to be seen by their parents. Not for what they could become, not for what the parent wishes they were—but for who they actually are. That is unconditional love.

On the opposite end of that spectrum is the parent who lives vicariously through their child. This doesn’t just show up in sports or academics; it often looks like a parent trying to prevent their child from making the same mistakes they once made. The intention is usually good. But as the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. When children are never allowed to make necessary mistakes, they never truly learn.

Pain is a remarkable teacher, even though no one enjoys getting smacked—literally or metaphorically. In my own life, I’ve learned to accept something I call the “stupid tax.” Some of my best education came from being taken advantage of. Those moments taught me how people manipulate, who can and cannot be trusted, and how greed clouds judgment. While the behavior of others may have been unethical, the responsibility for letting it happen was ultimately mine. That’s the stupid tax. I've given this pain teacher another name, postgraduate education. This is called experience—and it might be the most effective teacher there is.

One of the goals in life, I think, is learning to see the world for what it actually is. Some traditions call this awareness or awakening: perceiving reality clearly, without excessive judgment. From a practical standpoint, the goal is simple—respond appropriately. Don’t overreact. Don’t under react. Just respond correctly.

In parenting, the extremes are easy to identify. On one end is the overbearing, helicopter parent. On the other is the neglectful parent. Neither is reasonable. Like all healthy relationships, the parent-child dynamic must evolve over time. This is why many cultures have rites of passage into adulthood. Once you cross that threshold, you’re expected to take responsibility for your own life.

Sometimes parents don’t want to cut the umbilical cord. In those cases, adulthood requires you to pick up the scissors yourself. You have to separate, explore, and figure out who you are—independent of the expectations placed on you.

Other times, it’s the parent who needs to do the cutting and let the child stumble forward on their own. I’m not convinced there’s a single correct approach in every situation. What matters is that the transition is acknowledged and discussed, rather than avoided and ambiguous.

Ken Wilber has suggested that roughly 70% of adults in the U.S. remain stuck in a child archetype—financially or emotionally dependent on others. Sometimes that dependency is on the government. Sometimes it’s embedded in codependent personal relationships.

Interestingly, the hardest patients for me to care for are those I had a pre-existing relationship with before they became patients. Medicine requires a certain level of emotional distance to make objective assessments. When that distance disappears, I sometimes err on the side of being too nice. And being nice is not the same thing as being honest or loving.

It’s often said that one of the hardest things in life is having adult children. The reason is simple: you have no control over how they spend their time, energy, or resources. When you care deeply about someone and watch them make decisions you think are foolish, it’s incredibly hard to keep your mouth shut—especially after investing decades in their development. There’s a quiet expectation that they’ll honor the family, avoid obvious mistakes, and “know better.” But the truth is, everyone does dumb things. That’s part of becoming an adult.

One of the best pieces of parenting advice I’ve received is this: never do for your children what they can do for themselves. It’s tough advice. Patience isn’t one of my strengths. I like being on time; my kids have no concept of time. I don’t always follow this rule—but I know it's good advice.

At some point, all of us have to cut umbilical cords. From our parents. From our children. From friends. Even from spouses. Not in a cold or detached way, but in a way that allows each person to stand on their own feet.

If you haven't noticed there seems to be a paucity of adults in the room. One way or another, we all need to grow up.

3-Bullet Point Summary

• Growth requires space, not control. Children—and adults—learn through experience, including mistakes. When we overprotect or overcontrol, we rob people of the lessons that actually build wisdom.
  

• Pain is often the price of clarity. Some of the most valuable education in life comes from failure, loss, and poor judgment. This “stupid tax” is not wasted—it is often postgraduate-level learning.
  

• Healthy relationships evolve toward independence. Whether as parents, children, patients, or partners, maturity requires learning when to stay connected and when to step back so others can stand on their own.

3 Practical Takeaways

1. Resist fixing problems that others can fix themselves. Before stepping in—especially with your children or loved ones—pause and ask: Is this discomfort necessary for growth? If they can handle it, let them. Short-term discomfort often prevents long-term dependency.
   

2. Reframe mistakes as tuition, not failure. When you make a poor decision, ask: What did this cost me, and what did it teach me? Paying the “stupid tax” is often how discernment, humility, and judgment are earned.
   

3. Practice calibrated responses instead of emotional reactions.

   In parenting, relationships, and health decisions, aim for the correct response—not the loudest or fastest one. Neither overreact nor disengage. Clarity beats intensity.