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When Care Becomes About Us: Reflections on Intentions, Attunement, and Connection

December 15, 20245 min read

"True care begins where our intentions end—when we set aside our need to be seen and simply meet another where they are." - Mary Coughlin

This morning, as I stood at the stove making breakfast for my husband, I had an unexpected epiphany. I decided—without asking—that it was time for him to eat. I carefully prepared everything, put it on the table, and then waited for him to appear. And waited. And waited.

When he didn’t immediately come down, I felt a wave of exasperation rise within me. Why wasn’t he here yet? Didn’t he know I made this for him? The frustration was tangible. And then it hit me like a whisper I couldn’t ignore: I made this all about me.

I thought about how I sometimes feel when he makes something for me while I’m immersed in something else. While I deeply appreciate the gesture, I also feel a twinge of annoyance at being pulled away from what I was focused on. The act of care was kind, but its timing didn’t account for my readiness.

This seemingly small moment cracked open something much bigger for me—a profound parallel to the work I do in trauma-informed developmental care. How often do we, as caregivers, act from a place of assumption rather than attunement? How often do we make care about us—our intentions, our efforts, our expectations—without fully centering the needs and readiness of the other?

The Power of Attunement

Caregiving, at its core, is about meeting someone where they are. It requires a deliberate slowing down, a pausing to ask, What does this person need right now? Are they ready to receive what I’m offering? In the NICU, this might look like observing an infant's cues before intervening, or gently checking in with parents before diving into a conversation.

In my kitchen, it would have looked like a simple question: Are you ready for breakfast?

When we practice attunement, we align our intentions with the needs of the person we’re caring for. This not only builds trust but also allows our gestures of care to be received as they were intended: as gifts of connection, not impositions.

Care That’s About Them, Not Us

In the kitchen that morning, my act of making breakfast started as an offering of care, but my exasperation revealed a hidden expectation: I made this for you, now you must show up. This shift—from care as a gift to care as a transaction—is something I’ve seen mirrored in the healthcare setting.

How often do we, as caregivers, feel frustrated when our efforts aren’t met with the gratitude or engagement we hope for? A nurse who stays late to console a family might feel slighted if their kindness goes unacknowledged. A clinician who carefully explains a treatment plan may feel deflated when a parent responds with skepticism.

These feelings are human. But they’re also signals to reflect: Am I truly centering this person’s needs, or have I made this moment about me?

Empathy as a Bridge

What struck me most in this moment was the power of empathy. I reflected on how I feel when I’m on the receiving end of a well-meaning gesture at the wrong time. While I recognize the kindness, it can also feel intrusive or misaligned.

Empathy invites us to step into the other person’s shoes, to see the world through their eyes. In trauma-informed developmental care, empathy is the bridge that connects us to the unique experiences of those we serve. It allows us to pause, listen, and align our actions with their needs and readiness, rather than our assumptions.

The Role of Communication

This moment also underscored the power of simple, clear communication. A quick check-in—Are you ready for breakfast?—would have aligned my intentions with my husband’s reality. In the same way, asking thoughtful questions and engaging in open dialogue builds trust in caregiving relationships.

In trauma-informed care, trust and transparency are foundational principles. When we communicate openly, we empower others to voice their needs and make choices that feel right for them.

Self-Reflection as a Tool for Growth

Ultimately, this moment was a gift of self-awareness. It reminded me of the importance of reflective practice—not just in caregiving, but in all aspects of life. When we take the time to examine our intentions, assumptions, and reactions, we open the door to growth. We learn to show up more fully for others, with humility and presence.

As caregivers—whether in the NICU, in our families, or in our communities—we are at our best when we balance intention with attunement, action with empathy, and care with humility. The next time I find myself exasperated because my gift of care wasn’t received as I’d hoped, I’ll try to pause and ask myself: Was I truly offering this for them, or did I make it about me?

This morning’s breakfast may not have gone as planned, but it left me with food for thought—and a deeper appreciation for the art of attuned, trauma-informed care.

Let’s keep showing up for each other with love, humility, and the courage to reflect. Because care isn’t about the volume of what we give; it’s about the resonance it creates in the lives we touch.

With gratitude and care,
Mary

P.S. I’d love to hear your reflections—have you ever had a moment that shifted your perspective on caregiving or connection? Share your thoughts in the comments or send me a message. Let’s keep this conversation going! 🌱✨

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