Mothering my children, healing myself
The way I mother my children is unusual in mainstream American culture (but common among my readers). I share my bed with my babies, I could never endure “cry-it-out” (even for a few minutes), I breastfeed on-demand for an extended period of time, I practice “nighttime parenting” by soothing or nursing my babies and toddlers back to sleep every time they awaken, I hold and carry my wee ones as much as possible (often in slings/wraps), I respond as quickly as possible to their cries of distress, and I rarely leave them with anyone besides my husband. Some might say I take Attachment Parenting to an extreme. There are probably those who would even say I take it to an unhealthy extreme. I certainly haven’t had a decent night of sleep for, well… years, and date nights with my husband are very rare. Some might assume I am driven to these extremes because I believe other parenting styles to be unethical (or evil), because I’m trying to be better than everyone else, or because I’m pursuing an unrealistic vision of “perfect” motherhood. But they would be wrong. Understandably…. because they don’t know my history (or my gene pool).
This is the only photo I have of my entire family intact… (I’m the tiny baby):
The next family photo I have is this one…
Two or three years had passed between those photos. You might notice that someone is missing in the second. I won’t go into all the trials and agonizing heartbreak that led to my mother’s decision to leave the family, but around the time I was 18 months old my parents took us all to see E.T. in the movie theater (I fell asleep) and then told us they were getting a divorce. Soon afterward, my five older siblings and I packed into our family car with my dad and drove away from the most important source of security and love I had ever known–my mother.
I spent the next several months (or was it years?) of my life traumatized… crying myself to sleep nearly every night… “I want my mommy… I want my mommy… I want my mommy…” I believed everything would be OK if I could just have my mother back. The only things that made my pain bearable were the constant presence and mothering of my older sister and the loving efforts of my paternal grandmother who took our wounded souls into her home and heart. Grandma became my “mother.”
One of my earliest memories is of a stormy night after the divorce. I can remember lying in a crib next to my sister’s bed. The rain was pouring down, whipping against the house and windows. The wind was howling like ghosts. There was lightning and thunder. As a two-year-old toddler, I honestly and completely believed that the house was going to be shred to pieces, and we were all going to die. So, as any frightened child would, I cried as loudly as possible for someone to save me. I remember feeling shocked that my family wasn’t frantically gathering us together to protect us from the storm. And I was frustrated that I did not have the words to express what I was feeling. All I could do was scream. Eventually, my grandmother came to my crib-side. I can’t remember what happened next, but the memory ends with me waking up calmly in the morning in my grandmother’s bed. She saved me that night, and her constant, unconditional love has saved me every day ever since.
As I’ve said, losing my mother at such a young age was extremely traumatizing. As a result, I have struggled with abandonment issues my entire life. Healing has come bit by bit over time, but I still have a long way to go. Fortunately, many wonderful women stepped-in to help raise and “mother” me–including my own mother with whom I lived from age eight until age eleven. Despite my childhood’s rough start, I managed to grow into adulthood relatively healthy emotionally and able to recognize the many ways my early traumas brought future blessings into my life.
I have also come to better understand, over time, some of the roots of my mother’s personal struggle with mothering, and her mother’s, and my great-grandmother’s as well. My sister, also, who shares more genetic material with me than any other woman on the planet, has suffered from postpartum depression and struggled to enjoy motherhood. I suspect there is something in the genetic wiring of several generations of women in my family that interferes with bonding and feeling the joy of mothering–perhaps faulty oxytocin systems? And I suspect that life experiences, traumas, and perhaps birth interventions have exacerbated some of those genetic predispositions.
So when I gave birth to my firstborn and waited to love her… and waited… and waited… I was understandably nervous. What if I’m broken? What if I can’t love my babies? What if I’m like my mother and grandmother? Days, perhaps weeks, passed. I can’t remember how much time. I prayed my heart out. God told me the love would come. Then one day I was playing with my daughter, smiling and gazing at her, and “I love you” fell from lips so effortlessly that I hadn’t even realized what I had said. And then I said it again with tears streaming down my face.
And when that precious high-needs baby cried when I put her down, a voice inside my heart and soul told me to hold her. And when she woke up distressed in the middle of the night, that voice told me to bring her into my bed where she could feel my heart beating. And when she seemed to want to nurse again (even though she had eaten only moments before), that voice told me to nurse her again and as many times as she wanted to.
I think that little voice inside was multifaceted. Part of it was a little abandoned 2-year-old girl inside of me crying “I want my mommy…” and I had to mother her. I could not let her cry. I had to tell her (and all of my children) with my every touch, every breath, every word: “I will never leave you. Never.“ Another part of that voice was God. God knew I needed that high-needs baby as much as she needed me. God knew mothering her so responsively would help me heal and overcome some of the trials inherent in the deck of mother-genes I was dealt. Perhaps that voice also included the pleadings of my deceased matriarchs… my grandmother and great-grandmother whose earthly maternal heartaches were never healed… who were determined to ensure that another generation of children would not grow up “motherless” and in pain. Perhaps their spirits, too, whispered, “Hold her!” And so I did. And will always do.
There is almost nothing more important to me than doing whatever I possibly can to increase the potential joy and love I feel in that moment when I first meet my babies and solidifying the bond that develops afterward. I may not be wired to immediately bond with my babies, but I’m still darn well going to try. (Thankfully, that loving bond has come more quickly and intensely with each subsequent child.) I may not have ever experienced a secure and constant mother-daughter attachment with my own mother, but I am darn well going to make sure my children do. My subconscious is driven to ensure that my children never know the pain of abandonment, even for a short period of time, especially when they’re babies. So I’m a little bit obsessed with bonding and attachment. So I spend a great deal of time studying and researching ways to maximize and intensify the initial bond with my babies. So I take my mothering style to a possibly unhealthy extreme. I really can’t help it. Blame it on my history. Mainstream America would say my 15-month-old toddler should have been sleeping through the night ages ago. I say that every time I nurse him back to sleep I have another opportunity to say, “I’m here. I will always be here. I will never abandon you. No matter what.” And each time I am able to communicate that message it adds another layer to the healing balm accumulating in my soul.
I did not choose “Attachment Parenting” because I thought it was superior to other parenting styles or because I was trying to be a “perfect” mother. I fell unexpectedly into “Attachment Parenting” because I literally could not mother in any other way. And it is my hope that my children will grow into parents who aren’t compelled to go to extremes… because they don’t have old wounds to heal… because they grew up with a mother who was always there. Oh how I hope.
No better sight to wake up to
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So beautiful and honest! Thanks for being willing to share such personal feelings with us.
My chiropractor told me to breathe deeply and think loving thoughts while breast-feeding my baby. He said they can feel that energy and security. I believe it. I think I’m finally learning to follow my heart when parenting, and not someone else’s book or magazine article.
Wow.
I think so many women can relate and will be helped in their healing by reading this post, myself included.
Thank you.
There are almost no words…just tears. This is so beautiful and voices what so many of us deal with in parenting. The needs to parent our inner “baby” and heal the wounds we’ve been carrying around for a lifetime. Thank you for baring your soul!
Thank you for sharing this heartbreaking, beautiful story. May God continue to heal you and your family. Children are a great help for that, I know. My daughter Alice’s birth was part of how God has saved relationships in my own family.
Aside, I have come to realize that my method of mothering is basically a form of attachment parenting also. I can’t stand for my baby (soon babies) to have any need for me unsatisfied. That’s probably why she is nearly two and still sleeps with us, still nurses for comfort a few times a day, and why (I like to think) she is so secure and happy. When New Little Baby comes in a couple months we will probably have a crowded bed for a while, but I figure that’s what King-size mattresses are for. :) So far we’ve let Alice ease in to more independence on her own time, and have yet to have any cause for concern for her development in that regard.
I’m sure your children will be happier and perhaps more comfortably independent people because of the secure and loving beginning you have given them.
Thank you for sharing this story. It certainly resonates…
Maybe it’s my 1st trimester hormones but I’m in tears and wondering how on earth I’m going to respond to be a mom for the first time. Thank you for sharing, especially about how you had to ‘wait’ to feel love towards your baby. I feel like I’m expected to be joyous and loving 100% but a lot of me is not those things right now.
Wow, very powerful. A helpful and encouraging read for me. Thanks to T for posting it on FB!
Thank you for sharing this amazing story.
Thank you for sharing your story! I am a survivor of abuse and I, too, fell into attachment parenting because it was the only way to heal myself and “protect” my children. I am so thankful for the voice that comforted me and guided me into attachment parenting. It healed my soul…and saved my family.
I stumbled upon your blog for other reasons…via a tweet from a fellow AP of yours whom I follow. And then I began to read and I realized, before you even said it, that PPD MUST be involved somehow. Thank you for this beautiful post. Being traumatized by your mother (or lack there of) is a part of my past that certainly impacted my challenges adjusting to motherhood…and that makes me strive even harder to be a good mother to my son. I read “The Ghost in the House” (http://www.amazon.com/Ghost-House-Maternal-Depression-Children/dp/0060843802) and feel inspired to suggest it to others who walk in our type of shoes, as well. Blessings, Amber
Thank you. That was beautiful and heartfelt.
I agree with my whole heart! My husband would tell me I was spoiling my babies to get them the minute they would cry, and sleep with them. I could not do it any other way. Luckily I think it has made wonderful well adjustted children that feel loved, and can trust that their needs are cared for. I think I can put up with a knee in my back, or less sleep for that, right?
Beautiful
Thank you for sharing this. Depression runs in my family, too, and makes me have trouble trusting myself. But thanks to a good midwife, nursing, and AP friends and support, I have always been able to trust my reaction to a baby’s cries, to react gently when I listen to my gut and their little guts.
Thank you for sharing your story of healing and hope.
I applaud you for putting yourself out there! It is hard to share your deepest despairs, but doing so is part of the battle. Also, there is no reason to feel guilty about your decisions as a mother. You know what is best for you and your children. My son is only four months old, but I too have a hard time not being a soothing mother. I breastfeed on demand, jump up in the middle of the night at each movement, and come at my son’s first cry. I have dealt with past tragedies myself, and I know how important it is to reassure your children and yourself through your actions that everything is going to be okay. Your are a strong, confident, and beautiful mother!
Thank you for your honesty. I can relate, I too am a child of divorce . . . my one concern is that I’m hoping you are also immensely bonding with your husband. The greatest gift that could have been given to you would be never to have gone through divorce. The greatest gift you can give your children is to keep your relationship with your husband a priority so that they too do not experience the loss of a parent due to divorce. You can do all the immense “bonding” with them, but if they lose their father . . . well, let’s not even go there.
What a beautiful post. My first daughter was high needs. I had trouble bonding with her because of birth trauma, and I also think women in my family are wired differently.
I also feel bonding takes place sooner with each child. Like you I fell into attachment parenting. I parent my children the way I wish I was parented. Your right when you say it’s healing.
It took me a while with my 1st daughter. She’s almost 6 now, but I think we have a pretty good relationship. I’m always striving to make it better.
[...] experience and endure the pains of labor and birth. Perhaps travail also came to me through my difficult “motherless” childhood? I had already endured the agony of maternal abandonment, cried so many tears for the disruption [...]
Thankyou for sharing this. I came accross it after googling about “non maternal” mothers / grandma. I myself am constantlly questioning myself if i have done good for my children and i always make sure i show lots of love and affection to them. I feel the need because, my Mum who only lives on the same road as us never makes a effort or put anytime aside to just be with the boys and i cant understand it atall. Surley when children are born it is a ” Precious addition” to the family. I have made excuses up for her / my mum enough times now were i am feeling hurt now which is turning into resent. Its not like she as a busy life, she works part time and then she will sit on her Computer day after day, hour after Hour interacting with that machine rather than just take a walk on the road and spend even if it be 1/2hour with her Grandchildren. I know she / my mum had a tough time bringing up 5children and then my father died of a Stroke when the youngest were 3 and 5, she says she as had her time at bringing children up. Fair enough but, surley when your children have children isnt it Maternal Instincts what make you feel the need to see your new grandchildren. In a ideal world i would love for the boys to have extra people in their lives apart from mum and dad and School. I have to walk on to mums house just so the boys get to see her but, still when we do that she doesnt move her face away from the computer screen, one movement of getting them a biscuit and thats about it. Im so fedup with how i feel towards her now its the School Holidays, i remember going to my Nanas every weekend and school holidays were she would love 2have me. I really thought my boys would experience this but, they havnt slept at grandparents ever.. I myself constantly makesure i have done enough for and with my boys eachday i think due to the lack of Family around them. Mum is meant to be my “Role Model and to keep Family Close and not like distant relatives as it feels like. Sorry for the Ramble, i just feel so annoyed some days and especially as its the school holidays..
I dont think you are extreme, I think you are perfect and beautiful and you made me cry. I love my babies too. I am just so thankful I get to spend my life with them now. Its the greatest gift in the world and I think you are WONDERFUL!!!!!
also women of an older generation were not empowered at all. Doctors disrespected their birthing abilities. Any
thing natural was taken from them regarding it as lower class or earthy witchcraft. Boys in sibling groups were also valued over the females, further robbing women of their worth. My Mom is learning how to be a good grandma and mother still, I know she tried but it must have been hard with noone to show her how to value her self.
What a beautiful, powerful post. My father left when I was young and I really see how it affected my personality and life choices…some for bad, a lot for good. At a young age it really solidified to me that I wanted my family to stay together, and that each parents role was so important. And I agree with you that sometimes you can heal some of those wounds of childhood by being for your children what your parent couldn’t be for you. Good bless your older sister for being able to at least fill some of that role for you.
i am so proud of you. And so glad to call you friend.
well said, dear friend. :) :)