What Watching 'The Pitt' Taught Me About Parenting

The Pitt, HBO Max’s award-winning medical drama about a group of doctors in Pennsylvania doing their jobs extremely well, has been dubbed “competency porn.” And I get it. There’s something highly satisfying about watching professionals in a chaotic ER make fast, confident decisions without holding a meeting, sending a Slack, or asking for input from everyone who’s ever held a stethoscope.

It’s the escapism we all crave in an increasingly confusing world that feels perpetually on the brink of disaster. It’s also, somewhat unexpectedly, given me my new parenting philosophy.

Hear me out.

To me, the drama of The Pitt has a lot of parallels with modern-day parenting. Sure, putting a Paw Patrol Band-Aid on your kid’s scraped knee isn’t exactly the same as treating a degloved foot (although judging by the screaming, you wouldn’t know it). And betting on where a runaway ambulance will end up is higher stakes than betting on which child will crawl into your bed tonight. But whether navigating triage or a toddler tantrum, the goal is the same: keep everyone alive and try to make it through the day with your sanity intact. (Also, in both the show and real life, there is always a kid who has stuck a bead up his nose.)

The biggest difference? On The Pitt, the doctors don’t crowd-source their decisions…or doubt their capabilities.

Meanwhile, tonight I Googled “how long is it normal for a 1-year-old to cry at bedtime?” even though this is my third kid and I already know the answer. (For the record: longer than you want, shorter than it feels.)

The doctors research, yes, but they don’t outsource their authority. They assess the situation, trust their knowledge, and move forward with confidence. And I think that part of why this is so satisfying to watch as a mom is because modern parenting encourages the opposite.

Case in point: Santa Claus. Recently, my first grader casually asked me if Santa was real (weeks after Christmas, of course, because children love an emotional ambush). I panicked. I deflected. I blamed needing to help a sibling. Then I ran to the bathroom and frantically typed “what age do kids stop believing in Santa?” into my phone while texting three friends and scanning a parenting forum.

And look, there is nothing wrong with information gathering. Even Dr. Robby on The Pitt references medical studies mid-crisis. (“Not according to the British Medical Journal—they did the wee-search,” he jokes, while coaxing a baby to pee without a catheter.) But the research informs his decision—it doesn’t paralyze it.

Parenting advice culture, on the other hand, often leaves us afraid to act without permission. We second-guess ourselves endlessly. Are we being too strict? Too gentle? Should we set a boundary, redirect the behavior, offer a choice, sing a song, or heal our own inner child?

On The Pitt, when two women start fighting in the ER waiting room, resulting in a knocked-out tooth, nurse Dana does not validate everyone’s feelings or ask them to use “I” statements. She yells at them to knock it off, breaks up the fight, and moves on. Crisis averted. (Gentle parenting could never.)

And yet, despite the shouting and the chaos, the patients are visibly relieved. Someone competent is in charge. Someone knows what they’re doing. Kids want that too! They want to feel like there’s an adult in the room who’s in control…even if that adult is quietly scrolling Reddit later.

But competence doesn’t mean perfection. Remember when Dr. Robby breaks down after his stepson Jake blames him for his girlfriend's death? He doubts himself. He feels guilty. He snaps at anti-vaxer parents. And then he gets back to work.

And that’s the parenting energy I want. Not flawless. Not endlessly patient. Just calm, capable, and willing to act without overanalyzing every decision like I’m writing a PhD thesis.

Because at the end of the day, my kids don’t need me to crowd-source the bedtime routine or workshop every boundary. They need me to be the person who says, “I’ve got this,” even when I’m not entirely sure I do.

And if Dr. Robby can diagnose hyperkalemia before the labs are back and save a triathlete’s life, surely I can decide whether my kid needs a snack or just a hug—no Google required.

Alexia Dellner is a mom of three, writer, and editor with bylines in PureWow, Women’s Health, SHAPE and more. She writes about parenting, travel, wellness, life hacks, and surviving the chaos. You can find her on instagram @adellner.