I used to get frustrated. "Mom, just click the paperclip icon!" I’d say, my voice rising. She would shut down. Her shoulders would tense. She’d say, "I’m just not tech-smart."
She wasn't giving birth to a baby. She was "giving birth" to a new version of herself: a widow learning to pay bills online, a retired woman trying to join a Zoom book club, a patient navigating a new health portal. teaching my mother how to give birth
When I feel my jaw clench now, I stop the lesson. I say, "Mom, remember when I was five and you spent three hours teaching me to tie my shoes? And I cried? And you just kept tying and untying the laces until I got it?" I used to get frustrated
This is a post about what happens when the student becomes the teacher. And how you can do it without losing your mind—or your relationship. My mother is brilliant. She ran a household budget for 30 years without a spreadsheet. She can hem a pair of pants in ten minutes. But ask her to attach a PDF to an email, and she looks at you like you’ve asked her to perform open-heart surgery with a butter knife. Her shoulders would tense
So, we created The Sacred Notebook .
Taking over the mouse/keyboard. The Fix: Put your hands in your lap. Use verbal only instructions. "Move the cursor to the top left. Click once. Now type your password slowly." Pro tip: Let them press "Enter." That moment of success is the baby crowning. Celebrate it. Stage 3: Transition (The "Let me do it for you" Phase) Symptoms: Begging. "Please, just this once, do it."
That’s when I realized: I was acting like a bad birth coach. I was shouting "PUSH!" without explaining how to breathe. If you are teaching a parent a new skill (technology, finance, health, or even social cues), treat it like labor. It’s messy, it hurts, but there is a beautiful result on the other side. Stage 1: Early Labor (The "Why" Phase) Symptoms: Denial. "I don't need to learn that." "Just do it for me."