Parents Talk Back

When parents send a child to college, they entrust an institution to look out for their child's best interests.

Those whose children will attend Howard University, where Phylicia Rashad is the dean of the College of Fine Arts, should worry about her judgment in this regard.

Rashad, who played Bill Cosby's wife on his eponymous TV show in the 1980s and '90s, tweeted her enthusiastic support of him after the Pennsylvania Supreme Court vacated his sexual assault conviction on June 30. She has since deleted this tweet: "FINALLY!!!! A terrible wrong is being righted -- a miscarriage of justice is corrected!"

When Cosby was asked in a sworn deposition for a civil trial in 2005, "When you got the quaaludes [in the 1970s], was it in your mind that you were going to use these quaaludes for young women that you wanted to have sex with?" He answered, "Yes."

The state Supreme Court found that then-prosecutor Bruce Castor, who later defended Donald Trump during his impeachment trial, had said he would not charge Cosby criminally if he testified in the civil trial. Accordingly, the court ruled that Cosby's previous admission should not have been used against him in the 2018 criminal trial in which he was found guilty of sexual assault. Five other women testified under oath against Cosby in the criminal trial. He has been accused by 60 women of drugging and sexually assaulting them.

Rashad's continued public support of her friend and former co-star must be considered in the context of these circumstances and her role as a university dean.

How could a student who has been sexually assaulted trust an administrator who cheered Cosby's release? How could a parent believe that Rashad would protect victims on campus when she could not contain her glee on social media about Cosby walking free? How can Rashad defend Cosby's own words about what he admitted he did?

Rashad apologized after her tweet prompted calls from Howard students and alumni for her to resign. She later tweeted, "I fully support survivors of sexual assault coming forward. My post was in no way intended to be insensitive to their truth. Personally, I know from friends and family that such abuse has lifelong residual effects. My heartfelt wish is for healing."

In fact, her message showed more than insensitivity -- it revealed a blind spot and lack of judgment unbefitting someone who has power over students' lives.

The university released a statement distancing itself from Rashad's original comments, but if Howard University wants to keep Rashad in an administrative or fundraising role, it needs to remove her authority over student matters. She's made it clear that no amount of evidence will dissuade her beliefs about Cosby. That's a dangerous message to send to any sexual assault survivor.

School administrators have a responsibility to uphold Title IX of the Educational Amendments of 1972, which prohibits discrimination in American higher education, including sexual harassment and assault.

Deans are among the university employees expected to report incidents involving possible violations, which may involve students, faculty or staff.

Rashad can believe whatever she likes about the dozens of sexual assault allegations against her friend. But school leaders have an obligation to stand up for an institution's stated values.

That's what Rashad failed to do.

Parents, students and alumni ought to continue the pressure on Howard's administration to take substantive action on their concerns. It's an opportunity for the university to show that celebrity does not insulate one from consequences.

Making matters worse for his friend, Cosby publicly called on the university to support Rashad's "freedom of speech."

Unsurprisingly, a man who has escaped consequences for his actions expects that's how the world works.

Kristen Tippit never imagined her baby would end up in the neonatal intensive care unit.

Her son, Otter, was born with dangerously low blood sugar. Doctors and nurses treated him in the NICU for nearly three weeks in the spring of 2020.

Tippit described it as "a long, overwhelming, worrisome and confusing 20 days."

About 10% to 15% of babies born in the United States end up in the NICU each year. After Otter recovered, Tippit and her partner, Jon Porter, decided to create a nonprofit organization to educate and support other parents going through similar experiences. They recently launched Logic.baby, a site that features videos from neonatologists, nurses, social workers, mental health specialists and former NICU parents.

Below are some of the couple's tips, along with things they wish they had known before their son's NICU experience.

1. Prepare for the unexpected. Most pregnant women never imagine that their baby might need time in a NICU. Consider the possibility, and think about choosing a hospital based on the level of care offered for newborns. Be aware of where you would want your baby treated in a medical crisis.

2. Educate yourself beforehand. Couples who are expecting multiples or those in high-risk situations should try to learn about their hospital's NICU before labor begins. Request a tour of the space, and gather information about the staff and equipment available. Porter says he would have felt less overwhelmed if he and Tippit had "known more about what we were getting into."

3. Take advantage of the support offered. Therapists, nurses, social workers, lactation consultants and medical specialists are all part of the support network for families in the NICU. They can also help connect you to other resources.

4. Get both parents involved in bonding. As a first-time father, Porter said he learned how to prepare his son's bottles, change diapers and handle pumped breast milk while in the NICU. "It felt great to be so involved," he said.

5. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Parents may feel overloaded with information. Porter recalled saying things like, "I don't understand. Can you please repeat that?" Or, "I'm kind of freaking out. Can you start over?" He and Tippit asked one specialist, "What are some things we should be asking about? What are the questions other parents have asked?" Those answers helped inform further conversations.

6. Build relationships with the staff. Tippit and Porter brought coffee and snacks for the staff, were mindful of the demands of their work and politely phrased their requests instead of making demands.

7. Create a communication plan. Not all parents can be at the hospital at all times. Find out when doctors do their rounds and request to be called with an update at that time. Some hospitals allow video calls, making it easier for parents to connect with the medical staff.

8. Learn how to be an advocate. Parents are an integral part of their baby's recovery. Tippit said they occasionally requested additional meetings before making a medical decision. Parents may not have medical training, she said, but they still know their baby best.

9. Rely on the nurses. Porter said they asked the shift nurse to accompany them when they had a meeting with the doctor. The nurse could also ask questions and debrief them afterward.

10. Try to coordinate schedules. Complicated medical issues require a team of various physicians. Tippit said that whenever possible, they asked their baby's attending doctor to be present (or call) when the endocrinologist checked in. This gave the doctors a chance to communicate while the parents were present -- everyone could be part of the same conversation.

11. Notice any patterns. Otter required frequent heel pricks to check his blood sugar levels. When the initial reading was high, the nurses would have to draw blood for a more thorough test, which was more painful and invasive. The second reading was often fine. Noticing this pattern, his parents asked to try a second heel prick if the first reading was high. This cut down the number of times their baby had to get his blood drawn.

12. Take care of yourself. Remember to lean on friends and family, especially if you have other children needing care at home.

Our worst day of the pandemic seems hard to fathom right now.

We recently attended a lavish indoor wedding with nearly 500 other guests. We hosted a big graduation party for our daughter. I’ve run to the mall and grocery store, dined in restaurants and watched a movie in a theater without worry.

The minute the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said it was safe for fully vaccinated people to gather without masks, I ditched the ones I’ve worn faithfully for a year.

Dare I say, things feel normal again. We’re early enough into this recovery that I still marvel at casually doing the things that felt life-threatening a few months ago.

But the details of that worst day come back vividly.

Nine months ago, I forced my husband out of the study room where he had been isolated for more than a week. Even though he was laboring to breathe, he wore two masks because I needed to drive him to the hospital. We kept the windows open, but he worried about exposing me to the COVID infection ravaging his lungs.

I forced myself to put on a brave face for our children. I assured them their father would be OK, knowing full well there was no guarantee of this promise. They were old enough to see through my façade.

They walked several feet behind us and watched us from the top of the driveway. My husband struggled to get into the backseat of my Prius. He was severely weakened from nights of high fevers, muscle aches, cramps and low oxygen levels.

Around the world, millions of people were going into hospitals with this same illness and dying alone. Our teenagers stood still and stoic, unable to hug or even touch their father whose coughs they had heard from behind a closed door. I saw my 16-year-old son’s face crumble right before I backed out of the driveway.

I will never forget that look.

My husband apologized while I drove for not being able to beat the virus. I kept my voice upbeat and told him he would be fine. Inside, fear clamped my chest and gut.

I couldn’t imagine that I would take him to the emergency room and then drive away. When we arrived at Missouri Baptist Hospital, the emergency room was packed with other sick patients. I wasn’t allowed to enter.

They handed me a slip of paper with a number I could call for updates after he had been admitted. I sat outside on the stone bench bordering the ER. Wall-sized windows allowed me to see him sitting in the wooden chair inside the waiting room. It was a surreal scene from a nightmare I could never have imagined.

It wasn’t until I was alone that I let the tears run down my face. I sat outside for four hours while he waited for a room. One of my best friends drove to the hospital to sit on the other side of the bench until they took him inside. She wore two masks.

This virus has killed at least 600,000 Americans. I remember early in the pandemic when we first heard estimates that the death toll could get that high. That enormous number seemed ludicrous and horrific at once.

My husband was one of the lucky ones. Despite months on supplemental oxygen, he has largely recovered. I didn’t tell him while he was hospitalized that I had also gotten sick from COVID. I didn’t tell our children either until he was home from the hospital.

I prayed I wouldn’t get as sick as he was.

We were the lucky ones.

When the vaccine became available to health care workers, my husband was among the first in his hospital to get the shot. I received mine shortly after and our kids got theirs as soon as they could, too. After what we had endured, getting the shot felt like a miracle; a life-saving gift from the tireless efforts of scientists around the world.

Recent numbers showed 36.9% of people across Missouri are fully vaccinated.

Clearly, we’re not out of the woods yet. COVID-19 cases continue to spread across northern and southwest Missouri. Our state has the dubious distinction of ranking top among all states for the most cases per 100,000 residents in the last seven days, according to The New York Times’ nationwide tracker. Meanwhile, our vaccination rate is below the national average.

The Missouri Department of Health and Senior Services issued a news release saying the dangerous Delta variant has become prevalent throughout the state.

It’s tempting to want to ignore bad news about the virus when our lives are finally getting back on track. But we have to figure out how to get more people vaccinated in order to prevent more dangerous variants from spreading.

Please let the worst days be behind us.