Alex, 5 years old, had just had his tonsils and adenoids removed. His mother was sitting on the bed where her dazed child lay eating a popsicle. When I went to speak with her in the recovery room, I gave her my summary: Everything went well; there was a ton of tissue filling his upper airway. I am sure he will breathe and sleep better now. She looked at me, stunned. “So he actually needed the surgery?” I said yes, told her again what I found, and said he was ready for kindergarten. She responded, “You have no idea how many people told me I shouldn’t do this to him. My mommy instinct was right.” On a different day, a patient’s mother told me her husband had returned from a golfing trip two nights before their daughter’s surgery was scheduled. His friends on the trip said that kids don’t need their tonsils out anymore. He asked her why their child was having surgery, sending her into a tailspin of conflict. Again, after surgery, I told this mother how blocked the airway was. She literally cried. “I knew something was wrong. Moms know.” She was relieved the surgery was over, yes, but more relieved she had trusted herself.These interactions are uncomfortably familiar to me. My research lab built a data repository of audio recordings of dialogue from more than 500 pediatric visits. We also interviewed parents about their experiences with healthcare and communication. We have used this data to understand how parents, patients and clinicians talk to each other, make decisions and perceive communication. We have evaluated many factors and behaviors, including how treatment options and recommendations are presented, how medical “jargon” is used by clinicians and parents, how patient/family preferences and values are queried and discussed, and the overall social/emotional environment of the visit. We have looked at how patient factors, such as weight or race, may affect communication. One finding remains constant: the parent present at the visit is overwhelmingly the mother ― about 90% of the time. Often, mothers talk about feeling included and informed during visits. However, others have described feeling intimidated by a surgeon’s expertise and education, feeling that their questions are “silly” or “not smart enough, feeling overwhelmed by information or even feeling dismissed or unheard. I want my prescription to go on record: Moms, trust your gut.Opinions about what mothers should be doing for their kids come from every direction. Family, friends, spouses, exes and even their own mothers weigh in and question their decisions, sometimes after seeing only glimpses of the child’s symptoms or behavior. Social media is opinion noise on steroids. Groups and blogs of mothers sharing advice can be supportive, but too often the loudest voice is not the most accurate.I remember these voices from my own pregnancy. Even as a physician, I read every comment and thread in which pregnant women told other pregnant women what not to do. The underlying message was clear: Don’t trust the motivations of your doctors. Later, when I was in early labor that wasn’t progressing, my baby was at risk, I wished I had trusted my own instincts, listened to my doctor and gone to C-section sooner. The author with her daughter, now 13 years old.Photo Courtesy Of Emily Boss, MD, MPHThis week, I evaluated a child for a relatively simple problem — ear infections that were affecting the child’s hearing. The issues, initially thought to be behavioral, became more apparent in the demands of the classroom environment. Mine was the fourth assessment for this child: The mother had driven the I-95 corridor, asking doctors the same question. My answer was consistent with the others. I asked her why she kept seeking opinions, despite being told the same thing by four different doctors.She said, “It just gets in your head, you know? This mistrust of the healthcare system.” The elephant in the room is the role of gender. There may be pervasive, implicit scrutiny and second-guessing of mothers across society. A well-known social framework, the Stereotype Content Model, suggests that people are judged along overarching dimensions of warmth and competence. Women, particularly mothers, are perceived as warm but less competent than men. So, in some cases, a clinician may unintentionally communicate differently due to implicit bias toward a mother who is perceived as warm (very attentive to a child’s needs and expressing concern over treatment) but less competent.And the healthcare system itself, however advanced, remains variable despite the science, guidelines and checklists developed to maintain its integrity and treat patients the right way. Take Alex. When his mother first raised concerns about his snoring, the pediatrician told her it wasn’t an issue. After she pleaded for a referral, a specialist they saw recommended an overnight sleep test. She didn’t think the test was necessary, but she went through the hoops. It was a year before he got to me and finally got the surgery he needed. She knew all along that something was wrong.What if she had brought Alex to me first? I can tell you with near certainty that the course, timing and approach of care would have been different. Even for tonsillectomy, the most common major surgery performed in children, there are widely different approaches to diagnosis, evaluation and treatment. The same is true for virtually every condition in medicine. There is a lot of noise, variation and uncertainty, and difficult stressful decisions are often made during very condensed visits. Parents and clinicians bring different experiences, information and pressures. But moms know their kids better than anyone. Here is the important caveat: Trusting your mom instinct does not mean practicing your own medicine. Yes, vaccinate your children against polio and measles. No, do not rely on an alkaline diet to treat your child’s cancer. Most clinicians offer sound advice based on a child’s symptoms, the parent’s concerns, scientific evidence and their own experiences treating thousands of patients. When the mothers we interviewed described positive experiences, they talked about clinicians who listened, reassured them, included them in decisions, explained things clearly and recognized their child’s emotional needs. If your instinct tells you something is wrong with your child, you deserve to be seen and heard. Emily Boss, MD, MPH, is a pediatric ear, nose, and throat surgeon, public health researcher and mother. She is the director of pediatric otolaryngology and a professor of otolaryngology, pediatrics, and health policy and management at Johns Hopkins.Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.RelatedParenting Motherhoodparenting adviceself doubtmaternal mental health