Monitoring Nerves, Managing Meltdowns: The Surprising Link Between the OR and Motherhood
In the operating room, there isn’t much room for hesitation. When I’m monitoring neural function during surgery, I’m watching for subtle changes—small waveform shifts that can mean something significant. A surgeon might ask, “Are we okay?” And in that moment, with the support of my interpreting neurologist, I must decide: Is this meaningful? Is this positional? Do I speak up?
There’s no dramatic music. Just consistent pressure and the understanding that what I say next matters. Motherhood, it turns out, is not that different. Except instead of a sterile OR, I’m in my kitchen. And instead of waveform changes, I’m assessing a toddler who is unraveling because she wanted “Elmo yogurt” and not “Cookie Monster yogurt”. Different environment.
Same need for decisive thinking.
Rapid Decisions, No Pause Button
In surgical neurophysiology, you’re constantly filtering information and don’t have the luxury of spiraling.
You rely on training, experience, and pattern recognition. Parenting a toddler feels surprisingly similar, there’s no time to consult a parenting book mid-tantrum at Target. You observe, interpret, decide and adjust in real time. Motherhood has sharpened my ability to assess quickly without overcomplicating. Not every emotional outburst is a five-alarm fire. Sometimes it’s just teething and a missed nap.
Learning to Trust My Judgment
Early in my career, I second-guessed myself constantly. What if I overcall it? What if I miss something? Speaking up in an OR takes confidence. Over time, I realized something important: confidence doesn’t mean certainty. It means trusting your training enough to act. Motherhood has tested that same muscle. There is no shortage of opinions about how to raise children. Everyone has advice. Social media alone can make you question everything you know, from toy choices to sleep schedules.
Decision-making under pressure requires filtering noise. In both the OR and at home, I come back to the same questions:
- What do I know?
- What am I observing?
- What aligns with my values?
Then I move forward. Sometimes I get it wrong. But good decision-makers adjust, they don’t freeze.
Staying Calm When It Feels Urgent
In surgery, panic helps no one. If I escalate emotionally, the whole room feels it. Calm communication is part of the job description. At home, I’ve learned that my nervous system sets the tone. When my toddler is spiraling, my response either fuels the fire or helps contain it. That doesn’t mean I’m always serene. After a long workday, my patience can be… limited. However, my job has trained me to recognize urgency without absorbing it. Not every loud moment is a crisis. Not every tear needs fixing and sometimes the best decision is simply to stay steady.
Accepting Imperfect Outcomes
Here’s the humbling truth about both surgery and parenting: you can make the best possible decision with the information you have, and still not control the outcome.
In the OR, I monitor and respond. I am responsible, but I am not in control of everything. At home, I guide and teach. But I cannot control every mood, milestone, or meltdown.
Decision-making under pressure has taught me to focus on what I can do in the moment, which is to observe carefully, act thoughtfully and adjust when needed.
I didn’t expect my career in surgical neurophysiology to shape my parenting style, but it has. It’s made me quicker to observe before reacting. More confident in my judgment and more comfortable leading calmly through chaos.
In one room, I help to protect neural pathways, in another, I help build them. Different stakes, different messes but same steady decisions. Most surprisingly, the skills transfer beautifully.
This blog post was written for IntraNerve Neuroscience by Laura Oakerson, our Ohio Assistant Manager/Surgical Neurophysiologist CNIM Certified Staff
