Confession: I was a bed wetter. I wet the bed on most nights
up until I was at least five-years-old. My mom tried various things to deal
with this: a rubberized sheet under my sheet, no water late at night; I even
remember maybe taking some medication. The doctor said it was a combination of
being a heavy sleeper with a small bladder. In retrospect, the doctor seems
like he was a sensible man (though if I did take pills for it, I have to wonder
what was in those pills). What my mom and dad absolutely did not do, was
to make me feel shame about this. I didn’t think too much about this at the
time. I was blissfully unaware that many children were traumatized by bed
wetting and by their family’s reaction to it. This is yet another reason for me
to be very grateful for the parents I had.
They did not punish me for wetting the bed. I seem to
remember getting a nickel for every night I managed not to wet the bed.
Logically, as a tool, this is no more effective than punishment. Neither the
carrot nor the stick is going to have an effect on the outcome. This was not a
function that could be controlled by willpower. But I was happy to get the
occasional nickel. It is good that my parents did not believe in punishing me
for it, because studies have shown that punishment tends to make the matter worse.
It was unpleasant. No one likes waking up on a sheet soaked
in urine. It was often cold by the time I woke up, and it smelled. It was
uncomfortable, but I was not traumatized by it. It was just one of those things
that had to be endured. I was aware that this was unusual, that other children
my age were not wetting the bed. I don’t have any Earth-shattering
pronouncements about this, except to say that I would hope that any modern
parents out there faced with this situation would treat their child with the
kindness that my parents did. I seem to have turned out okay.
Comments
Post a Comment