Sweet Pea looked a bit dizzy, wobbly on her feet that morning.

Maybe she has an infection, Ayla Abbassi thought. The Abbassi family has a menagerie of barnyard animals around their suburban home in Ballwin, Missouri. They share a four-acre, wooded lot with two dogs, two cats, three ducks and 12 chickens -- including Sweet Pea, a 4-month-old silkie bantam.

Ayla moved Sweet Pea indoors once she got sick. By the third day, the chick's back wings were splitting and her legs were buckling under her weight. Abbassi, who works as an IT project manager, called around to find a vet who treated chickens.

She took her to the nearby Family Pet Hospital. Dr. Hallie Feagans called her later that day and said that the chicken likely had Marek's disease, a common viral disease affecting poultry.

Backyard chickens have become increasingly popular pets. Feagans raises 30 chickens herself, and sees about one or two a week at the hospital. They can be difficult to diagnose and treat. While there's no cure for Marek's disease, which causes paralysis, Feagans said Sweet Pea could still possibly pull through after three or four weeks. Some chickens survive the illness.

"It depends how much work you want to put into it," Feagans told Ayla. "She still has a chance."

That was enough for Ayla. She picked up Sweet Pea and took her home to her three daughters.

"I wanted my girls to feel and see compassion," she said. She told them that one day it could be their parents who were really dependent and helpless. "You need to practice being compassionate whenever the situation presents itself -- no matter how small."

For the next two and a half weeks, Ayla or her daughters massaged Sweet Pea's legs twice a day. Ayla did water therapy daily in the bathroom sink with the chicken, trying to help her build strength in her legs. She fashioned a chicken diaper out of a sock and sanitary napkin Sweet Pea could wear while she scooted around the house. They made a sling out of a plastic grocery bag to help her "walk" upright with some assistance. Her 6-year-old daughter, Zayna, read stories to Sweet Pea nightly and carted her around in a pink-trimmed baby-doll stroller.

Sweet Pea got playtime with her fowl friends every evening.

The chicken basked in the attention.

Ayla felt a little overwhelmed by the amount of care the sick chick needed, in addition to her life as a busy working parent. Her co-workers inquired about the status of her ailing chicken daily.

People go to extraordinary lengths regularly to care for their pets and possibly extend their lives. Not many would go to such trouble for an animal you can buy for $1.50 a pound at the grocery store and serve for dinner. But when raised as pets, chickens can have distinct personalities, and the Abbassis described Sweet Pea as small but mighty.

Despite the nurturing care, Sweet Pea wasn't improving. In fact, she was getting worse and her breathing had become labored. Ayla took her back to the vet. In her heart, she knew she was not going to see Sweet Pea again.

"I remember holding her in the office and saying, 'Goodbye, my darling. I'm sorry I failed you,'" she said.

The assistant at the vet's office told her not to say that -- "You worked so hard," she told her.

Ayla cried the entire way home and waited for news.

Feagans called her later that afternoon. The chicken was showing signs of respiratory struggles. She was on oxygen at the hospital.

"What would you do if you were in my shoes?" Ayla asked the vet.

There was a long pause.

"Ayla, I would let her go. I don't think she will get better."

Sweet Pea died on Aug. 18. She had lived for about a month after she got sick.

The vet didn't charge for the medicine, the last appointment or Sweet Pea's cremation, even though Abbassi insisted that she wanted to pay. Feagans refused to charge her.

"I know she worked really, really hard to save that little thing," Feagans said.

A few days later, instead of a bill, a handwritten card arrived in the mail. Feagans wrote a note thanking the Abbassis for the love and compassion they had provided Sweet Pea.

"She was very lucky to be part of a such a loving family," she wrote. "I wish every pet was treated as well and given as many chances as Sweet Pea was."

Ayla said Feagans made her feel that Sweet Pea was a lot more important than "just a chicken."

And, to them, she was.

Plenty of parents break out the happy dance on the first day of school.

It's a respite from the long, hot days of dealing with children who have been bored for weeks and eating snacks from the pantry faster than you can restock them. It's also a moment of optimism -- starting an academic year still ripe with potential and getting to meet new teachers who may spark a passion for learning in your child.

That's far more exciting for parents than new school supplies.

Of course, a new school year also marks that bittersweet passage of time. First day of school pictures document a childhood slipping away as each grade gets closer to graduation.

Most years, the first day is a salad toss of these emotions for many parents. I've been that mom who gets a little misty-eyed at the morning bus stop, yet also relishes the return of peace and quiet during the day.

But certain years can be even more emotionally complicated for parents. These are the major transition years when a child starts at a new school -- kindergarten, middle school or high school. And the first year of college is the biggest transitional year of all. These four milestone years can be just as nerve-wracking for parents as they are for students.

Transitions are inherently unsettling. It's a change in setting, in routines and expectations, and in peer relationships. A child understandably has a fear of the unknown, but a parent has to deal with a fear of the known.

A child's first day of school is also a walk down memory lane for parents. They remember the challenges they faced themselves during those transition years, and the scars they accumulated along the way. Adults may remember all too well the pain of being left out in elementary school, bullied in middle school or isolated in high school, and want to spare their child the same fate. They may recall the loneliness or sense of being overwhelmed during the first year away from home. Or if they experienced a significant loss as a child, such as a divorce or death in the family, it may also color their memory of that time in school.

Even if your own transition years were relatively smooth, as an adult you can see all the potential pitfalls on this new part of the journey. Children graduate to a new school, while parents graduate to a whole new set of worries.

It's hard to know how to help your child navigate a year that touches back to a time when you carried feelings of low self-esteem or shame.

I remember feeling a slight sense of panic when my eldest child was about to start middle school. That had been a rough transition year for me socially, and I assumed the start of junior high was horrible for most people.

Those who have suffered at the hands of peers or teachers may assume it's a normal part of growing up to be miserable in sixth grade or terribly insecure in ninth. Yes, some awkwardness and angst is developmentally appropriate in adolescence. But smooth transitions help alleviate the bumps and bruises that are part of the learning curve.

Just recognizing that your own experiences may be influencing how you feel about a particular transition year can help calm latent anxieties.

Once I took stock of all the ways my daughter's experience was different than my own -- she had more self-confidence and a supportive social circle -- I was able to worry less and appreciate the chance to help her grow through these years. She survived the transition and is looking forward to her last year before tackling high school.

As my son starts sixth grade this year, my old fears have been laid to rest. The experience of watching an older child emerge happy and successful from the year that was hardest for me healed my own past hurts.

I can go back home from the bus stop this year and do that happy dance.

The busiest years in a couple's life are when both partners are building careers and raising young children.

It takes many different types of work to keep a household running: the physical tasks, such as cooking, cleaning and laundry; the mental tasks, like coordinating schedules and managing finances; and the social-emotional tasks of keeping tabs on everyone's wants and needs.

If a task isn't your job or a leisure activity, it goes into one of these "buckets" of household work. One of the most contentious issues during this stage of life is the question of who carries the most buckets -- or the heaviest ones.

Sharing household chores was in the top three highest-ranking issues necessary for a successful marriage, according to a 2007 Pew Research Poll. (The first two were faithfulness and good sex.)

In the past half-century, the majority of mothers have moved into the paid labor force. The labor force participation of women with children under the age of 18 has risen to 70 percent. And mothers are the primary breadwinners in 40 percent of households with children, according to a Pew Research Center analysis of census data.

Now more than ever, the distribution of household labor is an issue of fairness and respect.

In a 2015 Pew Survey, more than half of the working partners in two-parent households said they split household chores equally. But nearly half also said working mothers do more in handling children's schedules and activities, which requires significant effort before children can drive or manage their own time.

And there's a gender gap in how mothers and fathers describe their household's distribution of labor.

"Mothers in two-parent households, regardless of work status, are more likely to report that they do more on each of the items tested in the survey than fathers are to say their spouse or partner does more. For their part, fathers are generally more likely than mothers to say that these responsibilities are shared about equally," the report found.

One mother I talked to expressed that very sentiment regarding her own family situation.

"I think in his perspective I do 60 to 65 percent of the work, when in reality, I do 90 percent," she said. "And I'm being very conservative with that 90 percent."

The so-called "invisible work" can often fall to women by default. Part of that may be because the gender-chore gap hasn't changed much in more than a decade. Bloomberg reported last year that the Bureau of Labor Statistics' annual Time Use Survey reveals that the percentage of men and women who are involved in household activities -- defined as housework, cooking, cleaning up after cooking, and generally taking care of the household -- has barely moved since 2003, when the bureau began tracking Americans' day-to-day activities.

Everyone wants to be appreciated and recognized for the contributions and effort put forth in their home life. If left unchecked, an unfair division of labor breeds resentment and alienation between spouses. It can erode intimacy and the sense of being supported as an equal. If one person is constantly feeling overwhelmed or tired, a redistribution of responsibility may be in order.

Part of the solution is raising awareness of all the tasks that require labor -- whether mental, physical or emotional -- in raising a family and managing a household.

To that end, try creating a comprehensive list of all the various tasks it takes to run your household. (I compiled one such list for my local paper, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, which is available online. Another good list to work from is Alexandra Bradner's from her 2013 piece in The Atlantic, also online.) Then sit down with your spouse and determine who typically handles what -- and where things might need to shift.

Perhaps one person prefers to take primary charge of an area, such as school communication or vacation planning. Maybe one spouse wasn't aware of the way certain tasks pile up into stressful mental clutter, and can work to alleviate that. Perhaps one partner needs to try not to criticize the way certain tasks get done in the future.

These may be difficult conversations, but they are necessary to the overall long-term happiness of the family.