Raising My Boychick » Attachment Parenting http://www.raisingmyboychick.com Feminist thoughts inspired by parenting a presumably-straight white male Wed, 28 Jul 2010 22:24:16 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.9.1 en hourly 1 No, less-than-threes do not need their moms 24/7/365 http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/07/no-less-than-threes-do-not-need-their-moms-247365/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/07/no-less-than-threes-do-not-need-their-moms-247365/#comments Sun, 18 Jul 2010 09:31:15 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=2649 “A mother shouldn’t leave her child until about the age of three”, declares a father.

Oh, I do not think so.

What infants and toddlers and preschoolers need is attachment — loving, responsive care from people they know and trust, preferably have known for most or all of their lives but at least with whom they have [...]]]> “A mother shouldn’t leave her child until about the age of three”, declares a father.

Oh, I do not think so.

What infants and toddlers and preschoolers need is attachment — loving, responsive care from people they know and trust, preferably have known for most or all of their lives but at least with whom they have built a relationship. They need to have older people — adults, yes, but also teens, older children — who know them and love them and who they know and love, accessible to them when needed. The placement of that responsibility exclusively on the mother makes it not a joy, a task of life easily fulfilled, but a burden, under which so many of us are breaking.

Something is wrong with a culture that expects a six week old to sleep through the night, that tells a four month old her hunger is inconvenient and needs to be scheduled, that is surprised when a one year old doesn’t want to be left with a stranger. Some of us recognize this, and some have decided the problem must be because women are employed outside the home, have chosen to have lives that do not revolve around our children.

Not that we have moved away from our families of origin.

Not that we have built fences real and psychological between us and our neighbours.

Not that we have tiny families and a dearth of siblings and cousins.

Not that we have segregated adults and children, and alternately marginalize people with fewer years as second class citizens and exalt them as angels on earth (but never simply honor them as perfectly imperfect persons).

Not that we hold ideal a single family home, and define family as up to two parents and 2.5 children.

Not that we have taught half the population to deny and repress any nurturing potential, for fear of being “unmanly”.

No, it is, as always, entirely the fault of women. Of mothers, for daring to stand up for our humanity and our autonomy, for daring to do the work that earns power and prestige and some amount of protection, for daring to say we have needs and wants and goals too, for daring to take even an hour away to nurture ourselves so we have something to give to our children.

How dare we?

What some misguided whistleblowers (on the problem that is our parenting culture) have deemed is the solution — a mother, subsuming her own desires entirely to her offspring for a full three years each, minimum, accessible at all times of day, all days of the week, all weeks of the year — is just as unnatural and damaging as the model it rebels against.

We are not supposed to do this gig — which risks becoming labor and work and mind-breaking, body-destroying toil the less it is shared with loved ones — all by ourselves. We are not. That some can do it and survive, even enjoy it and would pick it first over any other idealized options, speaks far more to the diversity and flexibility of humanity than it does to the failure or unnaturalness of any woman who doesn’t choose or wouldn’t enjoy (possibly wouldn’t survive) 24/7/365 sole caregiving.

Kids don’t need one person, if that person is going to break if she has to clean up one more fecal-smeared surface.

Kids don’t need one person, if that person is snapping and yelling and cannot catch her breath alone.

Kids don’t need one person, if that person’s back is breaking from twelve hour shifts of bending and lifting and carrying and holding.

Kids don’t need one person, if that person has lost herself and her center and has no core around which her child can revolve, no life from which her child can learn.

Kids need people, people they know and love and trust, people who are with them and responsive to them day after day, who know their rhythms and their personalities and their needs and their wants, who have done the work of endless toiletings and feedings, who have assisted nap times and play times, who have tickled and carried, who have been there through laugh fests and crying jags. Kids need as many of those people as possible. Blood relation entirely optional.

One? Is a bare minimum. The kid might survive, even thrive (because humans are fantastically adaptable); and the parent might as well (ditto): but it comes at a high risk of burning out the carer, torching the relationship, scorching the child. And if that happens, there is no one for the child to turn to.

Two is better.

Three or four are better still.

Half a dozen is getting closer to ideal.

Half a dozen? Sure: a parent or two, a grandparent or two, a parent’s sibling or two, a couple teens or older kids: it’s not a big family, as primate evolution (or human tribal history) goes. But good luck growing it in this society.

(My infant only wants me. She’ll have nothing to do with her dad!

Has her dad been there? Does he know her? Does she know him? Did she hear his voice in the womb? Did she breathe in his smell within hours of birth? Did he carry or wear her her first day out of the womb? And the second? And the third? Does she sleep with his breath on her face, his heat keeping her warm, his body keeping her safe? Does he respond to her attempts at communication about her hunger and elimination? Does he help keep her clean? Does she know him?)

Kids — the younger they are the truer this is — need to be with people they know, and trust, and love (who among us doesn’t, really?). They need attachment; this is immutable biological fact. They’ll make do with almost whatever we give them, but the more the better. It is only our messed up society — or the very rare, very exacting child — that says that this means all-mom all-the-time.

(Oh, the breasts. The sweet, sweet breasts. Yes, infants need near-immediate access to milk at basically all times; known and trusted lactating breasts are biologically expected to be on call 24/7. Only humans — and only some humans — would translate this as mother’s-breasts-only, and even fewer as mother-as-primary-minder-at-every-moment. But a ten, a twenty, a thirty month old gets ever less in need of such omnipresent access, even as their need for it sometimes, and their need for constant nearby presence of trusted caregiver(s), might remain unabated.)

Do you, caring mother, have to leave your less-than-three? Of course not. (If there’s no one around we trust our children to trust, why would we want to? If we have enough people to share the load with that it is still a joy and not a toil — however many that is for us, zero or a dozen — why would we want to?) But you could. If you wanted. If your child wanted. If there are other people your child knows will care for them.

And I promise — it wouldn’t destroy them.

]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/07/no-less-than-threes-do-not-need-their-moms-247365/feed/ 55 Blast from the past: A letter in defense of public breastfeeding http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/06/blast-from-the-past-a-letter-in-defense-of-public-breastfeeding/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/06/blast-from-the-past-a-letter-in-defense-of-public-breastfeeding/#comments Fri, 04 Jun 2010 07:32:11 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=2392 I recently came across this letter I wrote in October 2005 — a year and a half before the Boychick was born. Although there are a few things I would write differently now — places where I would soften my language or add disclaimers about the value of formula or pumping when called for, claims [...]]]> I recently came across this letter I wrote in October 2005 — a year and a half before the Boychick was born. Although there are a few things I would write differently now — places where I would soften my language or add disclaimers about the value of formula or pumping when called for, claims I might seek out literature to support or would discard, analogies I might rethink or clarify — I’m still proud of and stand behind most of it.

This was written in reply to a specific anti-NIP (nursing in public) article, and some of the quotes and references (Paris Hilton? What on Earth was that about?) reflect that, but for the most part I think it stands well enough on its own, and I shan’t bother linking to a five-year-old piece of drivel just to have this make a little more sense. Tell your blood pressure I said you’re welcome.

Dear [author],

I’ve tried to start this letter a number of times, trying to find an inoffensive way to say it. I could start with the statistics about how important public nursing is to public health, but that’s too “safe”. I could start with the disclaimer “At the risk of sounding like some ‘militant’ ‘La Leche activist’…”, but that’s too, well, apologetic. So at the risk of offending, I will start boldly and without apology.

You want to talk about offensive? Offensive is comparing public nursing — which by responding to the child’s cues is healthy for them, and by showing people nursing is normal and thus increasing breastfeeding rates is healthy for the country as a whole — with public urination, public smoking, and loud music, all of which actively cause or risk physical damage to those nearby. (The dangers inherent to public smoking are well known, although I will take a moment to say that breastfeeding appears to negate some of the risks of secondhand smoke exposure to children; loud music, especially loud bass, damages the hearing of anyone nearby, and can trigger headaches, even migraines, in those susceptible; and although most urine is sterile, anyone with a bladder or urinary tract infection risks spreading those infections to passersby, not to mention it leaves a stench and residue behind. The same cannot be said for nursing.)

You say that “bared breasts can make some people very uncomfortable”. I say that halter tops, low-rise jeans, black or brown skin, and two men holding hands can make some people very uncomfortable. Are all those who make certain parties uncomfortable, by their actions, their dress, or their very selves, to be told “The problem arises when an essentially private activity becomes part of the public domain” and that they or their actions will be “allow[ed]… in certain areas and prohibit[ed]… in others”? Or is it only those actions that offend you, no matter how natural, how healthy, or how necessary to “the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness”, that will be shoved out of public sight?

You offer women a solution, of expressing milk (“at home” of course, although I presume in a public bathroom, out of sight, would please you as well) and offering it in a bottle while in public view, and that “This way, the child gains all of the benefits of mother’s milk while society is spared the sight of a human Playtex nurser.” There are a number of inaccuracies and problems with this statement.

Let me start here: the benefits of nursing are not just due to the substance of mother’s milk. Sucking at a rubber teat, even if the teat offers mother’s milk, increases the risk of ear infections (the method and functionality of nursing at the breast is quite different, and offers no such risk).

By nursing at the breast, the child exposes the breast to whatever viruses she has picked up (much more likely to happen while out and about, don’t you agree?), which then creates immunities to that specific virus and gives them back to the child, all in the same session. But I suppose you would rather have caught a cold from an ill child than have to view such a private event?

Further, breastmilk’s composition changes throughout the day; on a hot day, the child can take “sips” of foremilk to stay hydrated; in the morning, certain nutrients are present; in the evening, others. Expressed milk offers no such customization.

Finally, you compare a nursing mother to a “Playtex nurser” – do you not see how exactly backwards you have it? The mother is the real deal; the Playtex is the mimic, the second, the fake. Every bottle you see has on it a nipple, designed after the human breast the public sight of which you find so offensive.

You accuse your friend of shallowness, of caring only about image when she responds to your suggestion to offer pumped breastmilk in a bottle with “But then people would think I was feeding my child formula!” Instead, I propose she knows how important the sight of public nursing is, and how detrimental the sight of public bottlefeeding. As social beings, we pay attention to what those around us do, and we learn from it. When we see racism all around us, promoted and celebrated, we expect it and mimic it. When we see bottlefeeding, presumably formula, we think that only right and proper, regardless of what the scientists say about its deficiencies and the damage it does.

However, there is hope: when we see people with differences getting along with each other, when we see peaceful resolution to conflicts, when we see women comfortable in places of power, not just tolerated but supported and seen as a matter-of-course, then we expect that and mimic that. The best, most powerful way to encourage breastfeeding, and the short and long term health (and health-care-savings) it offers is to have women and men who will someday be mothers and fathers see it as natural, as accepted, and as supported. Wanting to take part in that public dialogue, with something as simple and easy as public nursing, is not shallow, it is courageous and commendable.

You are correct that nursing is intimate; it is intimate in the way that offering a hug to a person you love is intimate, in the way that drinking when you are thirsty is intimate, in the way that saying “I love you” is intimate. All these intimate, personal, even private activities are allowed in the public sphere when the participants are all adults. Are they to be disallowed in public? Are they to be disallowed when you are uncomfortable with the parties involved, because one is an infant, or both are women, or the drink comes in a container you find offensive (perhaps it has Michael Moore’s face or Paris Hilton’s logo on it)?

You have a preference not to be exposed to nursing in public. Well, I have a preference not to be exposed to anti-nursing drivel. You even have a right to state your preference in the public arena, as do I. But neither I nor anyone else has the right to say that you cannot publish such offensive, damaging, annoying filth, just as neither you nor anyone else has the right to say that a child cannot nurse wherever she and her mother find themselves.

Sincerely,
Arwyn

]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/06/blast-from-the-past-a-letter-in-defense-of-public-breastfeeding/feed/ 18 Reply-turned-post: Metaphors of violence http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/05/reply-turned-post-metaphors-of-violence/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/05/reply-turned-post-metaphors-of-violence/#comments Wed, 05 May 2010 08:13:38 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=2262 Annie of PhD in Parenting is, in a role reversal, spending the summer as a SAHM while her family is in Berlin, Germany. Her daughter, almost the same age as the Boychick, is being very much a three year old in a new environment in an unfamiliar situation. Annie writes about it in Age three: [...]]]> Annie of PhD in Parenting is, in a role reversal, spending the summer as a SAHM while her family is in Berlin, Germany. Her daughter, almost the same age as the Boychick, is being very much a three year old in a new environment in an unfamiliar situation. Annie writes about it in Age three: defiance with a smirk, in which she talks about the “several battles taking place on this battlefield”, including:

Her battle to assert her independence … My battle to teach her empathy … Her battle to have mommy all the time … My battle to divide my time and get things done … Her battle to test her limits … My battle to stay away from the hospital.

This was my reply:

I do not, alas, have any magic answers for you. But what struck me1 reading through this was the antagonistic language you used, framing things in terms of “battles”. And certainly it’s no surprise that you feel that way, and I’m not going to say you “shouldn’t” (you are always allowed to feel how you feel!), or say I never feel that way (oh, how I do).

I will, however, say that the more I can reframe things using non-fighting language, the better I feel about a situation and the more creativity I have, and the more potential solutions open up to me. “Battles” necessarily have winners and losers; needs, however, can all be mutually met (even if it is difficult sometimes to see how, or they are best met sequentially rather than simultaneously). Work can be shared. Joy (she’s enjoying her independence, you enjoy alone time) is contagious. I wonder how your situation would change if you were able to conceptualize what’s going on in some of those frameworks.

I’m not saying it’s easy — far from it, in my experience — but the more I’m able to shift my thinking (without dishonoring my feelings in the moment), the more I am able to “discover new levels of patience or magic that were previously uncovered. … find things to say that will help her to understand. … enjoy every, or at least most, moments that we have together.” I want that for you, too.

(As an aside, my favorite course from college was “Peace Journalism”, which, among other things, pointed out just how pervasive metaphors of violence are in our language. Everything is a war, a battle, a fight; we deal low blows and stab people in the back; we have wars on terror and drugs and cancer; we fight for civil rights. Ever since then, I’ve been much more aware of my language, and whenever possible — not just in parenting — replace those metaphors with ones that are less two-sided, less antagonistic: we work, we labor, we strive. It’s been enlightening realizing that I don’t have to experience everything in terms of violence, even metaphorical violence.)

*****

I didn’t include this in my reply, but I think these metaphors explicitly uphold and perpetuate kyriarchy: what more basic hierarchy — by which I mean way of placing some persons below/above others — is there than “winner” and “loser”? For these are what we create when we structure our language, our thinking, our culture on violence and battle, actual and metaphorical.2

Language shapes thought shapes actions: I think it does matter that from conception to death we are surrounded by and immersed in language that encourages violence and antagonism. I can’t change the language my child will be exposed to everywhere else in his culture, but I can, and to the best of my ability do and will, give him fluency also in language that encourages cooperation and mutuality.

  1. I realized right after hitting submit on the reply that this is yet another instance of violent metaphor sneaking into my speech. ↩
  2. And yet, neither am I interested in committing the relatively-minor violence of imposing a “should” on anyone else’s words: things often do feel like battles, like fights, like attacks, and I think it pointless at best to deny the way we feel for some external ideal of language. I am not trying to tell anyone with this what they should say or write, only to illuminate the way I find our language works in our culture, and to share what I have found when I have made a change. ↩
]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/05/reply-turned-post-metaphors-of-violence/feed/ 16 Choosing Joy http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/choosing-joy/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/choosing-joy/#comments Tue, 27 Apr 2010 05:53:30 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=2153 This post is written for inclusion in the Carnival of Gentle Discipline hosted by Paige @ Baby Dust Diaries. All week, April 26-30, we will be featuring essays about non-punitive discipline. See the bottom of this post for more information. Here is what I do not do: I do not spank the Boychick. I [...]]]> This post is written for inclusion in the Carnival of Gentle Discipline hosted by Paige @ Baby Dust Diaries. All week, April 26-30, we will be featuring essays about non-punitive discipline. See the bottom of this post for more information.

Here is what I do not do: I do not spank the Boychick. I do not put him in time outs. I do not count to three1. I do not punish him for failing to live up to my expectations. I do not expect him to live up to anyone else’s unrealistic expectations. I do not use a “naughty step”. I do not use reward charts. I do not, in general, bribe2. I do not believe yelling is particularly effective or acceptable.

Here is what I am not, that people nonetheless often assume when I say the above: I am not perfect. I am not yell-free. I am not a saint. I am not a martyr. I am not a zen master. I am not a naturally low-conflict person. I am not a naturally comfortable-with-chaos person. I am not without anger. I am not without impulses to violence. I am not even without impulses to violence toward my child.

Here’s the thing: I choose — for it is a daily choice, a moment-by-moment choice — this parenting style3 not because it comes easily to me (in case you hadn’t gathered from the above, it doesn’t), or because I’m selfless (I’m not), or an emotional masochist (I’m really not), or because I think people who parent differently are bad parents (I don’t). Rather, I choose it for two reasons: one, I think it’s a way to raise an emotionally healthy, secure, confident, interdependent child, and two — no less important — I like feeling good.

I could expound upon the former point, but the second I think is said less often. Simply: given the choice, I would rather feel good. I would rather look at my child and smile because he’s being rambunctious and learning about his body than tense up and get ready to yell because he’s being wild and tearing through the place (it is, after all, often a matter of perspective). I would rather take the time to find creative solutions that leave us all satisfied than waste hours feeling angry and resentful and listening to him cry and be grumpy. I would rather practice finding joy in chaos than create frustration trying to control that which is not controllable.

Which is not to say he never needs, or gets, guidance, limits, or boundaries (neither is it to say that I’m particularly good at shifting my attitude to one of joy, but when I’m not it’s often because I am stuck in HALT TOT4, or have been triggered by his behavior). But we assume he wants those things, and is at all times doing his best to meet both his needs and our expectations. Our part is to communicate effectively what our expectations are and help him meet them.

Communicating guidance and boundaries effectively means both using language he can understand and making sure our behaviors say the same thing our mouths do: saying “don’t put this in your mouth” is the fastest way to get him to put it in his mouth; saying anxiously “you can do it by yourself” while hovering over him tells him we think he can’t do it; shouting across the room to not dump all the cereal out doesn’t work nearly as well as getting up and righting the container. So we think about our words, and we think about what we’re saying without words, and sometimes we don’t use words at all because he’s not in a place to hear them right then.

Helping him meet our expectations means making sure that they’re reasonable, that there aren’t any impediments, and that he has the tools and guidance that he needs. Reasonable expectations take into account the world he lives in, and his abilities — both his limitations and his strengths (for children are often far more capable than we think). When he’s tantruming on the floor over his popped balloon, we consider that possibly he’s in HALT TOT, and seek to rectify that and address the underlying problem, rather than getting upset over what is only a symptom of an unmet need. And if we want him to say please and speak to us kindly, we make sure he has the words and the modeling to know how to do that.

While working on this post (at night, after The Man took him to bed, when I do all my writing), the Boychick came out of the bedroom, unable to sleep. I helped him go back to bed, after letting him stay up for a little to eat and to use the toilet — and he got back up after another while.

I had a choice, then: I could get upset, and try any number of ways to coerce or manipulate him (ordering, bribing, or threatening him to go back to bed); or I could accept that this night wasn’t going to go how I’d planned, find the joy in the moment, and get creative about either getting him to bed, which would probably have involved going to bed with him, or, as I’m doing right now, writing it with him in my lap. Neither set of options (for there are near endless options within each paradigm) would get me what I originally envisioned for the night; but one way — choosing joy — would leave us both happy. Why would I choose anything else?

Gentle Parent - art by Erika Hastings at http://mudspice.wordpress.com/Welcome to the Carnival of Gentle Discipline

Please join us all week, April 26-30, as we explore alternatives to punitive discipline. April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month in the USA and April 30th is Spank Out Day USA. In honor of this we have collected a wonderful array of articles and essays about the negative effects of punitive discipline methods, like spanking, and a myriad of effective alternatives.

Are you a Gentle Parent? Put the Badge on your blog or website to spread the word that gentle love works!
Links will become available on the specified day of the Carnival.

Day 1 – What Is Gentle Discipline

Day 2 – False Expectations, Positive Intentions, and Choosing Joy (coming Tuesday, April 27)

Day 3 – Choosing Not To Spank (coming Wednesday, April 28)

Day 4 – Creating a “Yes” Environment (coming Thursday, April 29)

Day 5 – Terrific Toddlers; Tantrums and All (coming Friday, April 30)

  1. Except on the way to his favorite number, 5, when we’ve agreed that’s how many more times he’s going to do whatever it is I’d like to be done doing. ↩
  2. I do, however, sometimes use lubricants, like making sure I have a snack to hand out when it’s time to get in the carseat. ↩
  3. Joyful parenting, gentle parenting, mindful parenting, attachment parenting, whatever you care to call it; labels don’t matter so much to me as what it feels like. ↩
  4. HALT TOT stands for Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired, Thirsty, Overstimulated, or in need of a Toilet. ↩
]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/choosing-joy/feed/ 29 Reply-turned-post: teaching patience http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/reply-turned-post-teaching-patience/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/reply-turned-post-teaching-patience/#comments Thu, 15 Apr 2010 07:02:59 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=2121 I wrote this in response to one of the Carnival of Natural Parenting posts (Seeking Patience by Earth Mama), who asked:

My children are healthy, well adjusted and happily bonded to us but they are still children. They are still experiencing all the aches and pains that come from the process of growing up. They have [...]]]> I wrote this in response to one of the Carnival of Natural Parenting posts (Seeking Patience by Earth Mama), who asked:

My children are healthy, well adjusted and happily bonded to us but they are still children. They are still experiencing all the aches and pains that come from the process of growing up. They have moments when they scream out in anger, lose their tempers and lash out in ugly ways. They will sometimes cry uncontrollably when something frustrates them and shout angrily when they are cross. Sometimes these ‘moments’ seem to run together into a series of many moments, filling an entire day with negativity, frustration and unrest. I find myself, at best, staring flabbergasted, and at worst boiling up in my own swell of afflictive emotion. I believe in teaching through example but sometimes practicing patience is my own biggest challenge and every good intention and all my broad forward thinking evaporates into thin air.

How do you teach a child to be patient?

I replied (with minor edits):

Well, you already know that modeling is probably the best/most effective way — and also quite hard. I’m thinking though that we can also offer them skills to practice patience, although I don’t know at what ages these might be appropriate:

Encourage breathing/centering/grounding: “Hi! You’re getting pretty worked up. Would you like to take a deep breath with me?”

Engage their creativity: “You really want to play with that toy. What do you think we can do while we wait? What about this toy? Or we could hop on one foot!”

Redirect to different ways of expressing themselves: “I can see that you’re upset. Would you like to go scream into a pillow? Or go punch the couch [or any appropriate physical activity]!” (The Boychick, at just 3 years old, will say “I need to go to my [our] room!” and will go spend some time by himself, before coming back for hugs and kisses — because he’s seen me model that behavior when I’m feeling overwhelmed.)

Address the underlying issue: my family uses the acronym HALTTT, because no one copes very well or reacts very patiently when zie is Hungry Angry Lonely Tired Thirsty or needs to use the Toilet. So encouraging them to check into their bodies and figure out why they’re reacting so poorly, and then fix that, can really help. (I do this too; I often find myself snapping at the Boychick in the morning, but then I remember, and tell him, that it’s because I’m hungry and my blood sugar is low and I’ll feel a lot better when I go eat, so how about he get dressed now so we can have breakfast? It usually works, and it gives him a self-care vocabulary.)

Finally, I’d encourage you to accept that not all emotions are particularly pleasant, or calm, and that’s ok too: I want my child to be OK with the times when he’s feeling out of control, when he’s angry, when he’s frustrated, when he’s sad, and to know that whatever he’s feeling right now is ok. That very acceptance of the emotions that we’ve labeled in this society as “negative” can, paradoxically, help dissipate them. For you, too: it’s ok to be frustrated that they’re not more patient! It’s even ok to be frustrated that you’re not more patient with their impatience! Accept what is, as it is, without needing to change it. Only then can we change it.

And a disclaimer: I use these in my life, but I also am so, so far from perfect at any of it, and I lose it over his tantrums and neediness much too often. But y’know what? That’s ok too. I can, and am, changing it, but I don’t need it to happen overnight.

Hey look — I’m modeling patience!

ETA: In a stroke of fascinating coincidence and/or serendipity, at the same time I was posting this, the amazing Kelly Diels was hitting publish on Nice Girls and Nice Guys Finish Middle (Class), on why “nice” isn’t. For anyone wondering why I’d rather the Boychick learn to express even “unpleasant” emotions than learn to appear calm and collected at all times, read that. Good, yes. Kind, yes. Able to assert boundaries, hell yes. But save me from raising a “nice” child!

]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/reply-turned-post-teaching-patience/feed/ 13 Where is the mutually agreeable solution? — When parenting calls for blood draws http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/where-is-the-mutually-agreeable-solution-when-parenting-calls-for-blood-draws/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/where-is-the-mutually-agreeable-solution-when-parenting-calls-for-blood-draws/#comments Tue, 13 Apr 2010 06:10:28 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=2085

Welcome to the April Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting advice!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing letters to ask our readers for help with a current parenting issue. Please read to the end to find a list [...]]]>

Welcome to the April Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting advice!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing letters to ask our readers for help with a current parenting issue. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

***


Dear readers,

Perhaps you can help me. I don’t know the answers. I don’t know that there are any answers.

Let me tell you a story:

Three years ago, a child was born. His parents were so happy to see him, and from the very beginning they tried to honor his personhood and respect his wishes: they welcomed him into the world at home, in warm water, in a dim room; they warmed him against themselves; they brought him to bed with them, so he would never be alone; they helped him to eliminate his wastes away from his body when he indicated he needed it; they let him suckle sweet milk whenever he wanted. He was weighed in a sling, measured while lying in his mother’s arms, had his heel pricked while asleep in bliss at his mother’s breast. They left his perfect body whole, exactly as it was designed to be.

They fell in love with him, in an instant, in every instant they were with him, which was every instant from his birth. They were entranced with his perfection — smooshy nose (which straightened in a couple days) and bruised head and predilection for copious spit up and all. He was perfect. Simply, completely perfect.

Swimming in oxytocin, floating in joy, at one week out, they got a call.

Screening results positive: congenital hypothyroidism. Need a recheck. No, today. Now. What do you mean you don’t have a pediatrician picked out already?

Something… wrong? With their perfect child? Panic. Fear. Grief. They went through all this, and more.

Eventually, they realized it wasn’t the end of the world. Eventually, they realized their child was still perfect. Eventually, they got used to the new rhythm: pill crushed and delivered with breast milk every day, blood draws to test levels every month — then two months, then three months. The child grew up, and the pill part got even easier, with him asking for it and chewing it down plain every morning. Fears of his development being stunted proved false; confidence in the ok-ness of the diagnosis got easier. They clung to the hope — promised by everyone they talked to — that the blood draw ordeal would get easier too.

But it didn’t.

It got worse.

He learned to anticipate. He learned what it was “blood draw” meant, learned that it was the little room in which the trauma happened, learned it was when the people in the white lab coats called his name that it all started.

His parents learned hell. Learned that no amount of play-acting beforehand, no amount of promise of bribes afterward, no amount of distraction during would prevent his terror. They learned what it was like to hold a screaming, straining, snot-smeared child against their chest, legs locked around his to prevent him kicking the techs, while he pleads “Mama, dada, help me! Help me! Let me go, please! Please, help me!”

It had to be done — somehow, the blood had to be extracted, the tests done, the levels monitored, the meds adjusted. But what lessons were they teaching him, this child whose autonomy and bodily integrity they held sacred since before he was born? When the first step in raising a not-rapist is not violating his own body, when the first step in raising a sane person is not traumatizing his own psyche, how could they justify this traumatic violation? Repeatedly, regularly?

Of course, how could they not, either, when thyroid is vital for brain development? They could and did offer the child so many choices — when (a little), and in whose lap, and what color smiley face drawn on the bandage tape, and what toys to buy afterward, and where to go to lunch to celebrate surviving — but they could not, would not, offer the choice to not do it at all.

Here’s the question:

How does one do this? How do we get the necessary medical tests for our child without traumatizing him? How do we traumatize him and teach him to hold others’ bodily autonomy supreme? Endless suggestions for EMLA cream aside (and sending dismissals of his own right to autonomy directly to hell), how do we simultaneously respect his personhood and protect his health?

This isn’t a theoretical question. Third-person-distancing aside, this is a real dilemma, and we’ve six months at most before it comes around again. And it’s never going away, not for the rest of his life. He might outgrow the screaming, but he’ll never outgrow the testing.

Help us. Help him.

***

Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(This list will be updated by the end of the day April 13 with all the carnival links.)

]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/04/where-is-the-mutually-agreeable-solution-when-parenting-calls-for-blood-draws/feed/ 37 Moments in time: a love letter http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/02/moments-in-time-a-love-letter/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/02/moments-in-time-a-love-letter/#comments Tue, 09 Feb 2010 09:03:15 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=1659

Welcome to the February Carnival of Natural Parenting: Love and partners!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing about how a co-parent has or has not supported us in our dedication to natural parenting. Please read to the [...]]]>

Welcome to the February Carnival of Natural Parenting: Love and partners!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing about how a co-parent has or has not supported us in our dedication to natural parenting. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

******

Moments in time: a love letter

I am not blessed with a partner who supports my parenting, but blessed by watching him parent you. These are some of the moments I have been witness to:

~~~~~~

We are in separate states, murmuring those words of endearment and infatuation so long familiar but with new depth now, new breadth as my belly expands, as the baby inside me grows. I hold the phone low on the lump that my torso has become, as he speaks from hundreds of miles away, over air waves and through the layers of my flesh and the precious sphere of fluid it contains. He speaks words I never hear, words that are not for me, words that the listener’s ear recognize only as that voice — known — love but are so essential to say, to have said; words that pass through me, beloved and welcomed by me, but are not for me. I will always remember these words I never heard, from him to you.

~~~~~~

We have danced together, you and I and he, for hours ephemeral and eternal, and you are almost here, your body in mine and out of mine, in this space between contractions, between bearing down, between born and not. He is behind me, behind us, (but before you as well), and he cradles your head, waiting, all of us waiting. Later he writes:

The first time I touched you only your head was out. I was cupping the back of your head and I felt an ear. It was so amazing.

It was.

~~~~~~

This image I could never forget, if only because I have studied it now so often. You are eighteen hours old, and already asleep on his chest. You will spend so much of the first weeks of your life this way, and it will be a familiar comfort to you for years.

~~~~~~

It is he who suggests the hold that allows us to nurse in comfort at last. This time is ours, this aspect of parenting you for me alone (except a time or two when your need to suckle is greater than my ability to stand it, and he latches you on, you confused, the two of us giggling — but I have the respite I need, you have the comfort you sought, and he and I have a new shared vocabulary for this experience, that we draw on for so many months to come), and he respects that, protects that, and steps up everywhere else to support that: but here, too, he is essential, not extraneous, and his suggestion saves my back, soothes your hunger, and we are content, thanks to him.

~~~~~~

So many more moments I could tell you of, my little love, my child. The times he knew why you fussed when I despaired; the times he walked the halls with you when neither of us knew; the moment when you laughed, laughed for the first time ever and it was for him, because of him; the moment you pushed a book to him to read to you, and all the moments of all the books he read with you in his lap, in his arms, in his heart. Of a million such moments, mundane and miraculous, does a relationship grow. Yours flourishes before my eyes.

~~~~~~

I hear you now, in the bedroom, reading, laughing, talking. I am sitting up to write, as I do almost every night now, because you do not nap and it is my only chance. I can just hear his voice, calm and low and slow, lulling and loving, and sometimes louder to speak over you, to answer your persistent questions. Yours dances over his, bubbly and bright, not willing to yet relinquish consciousness. Bedtimes are your time now, yours and his: my job is to fetch you more books if needed, to hug and to kiss and to slip away quietly, to stay away until I am sure you slumber. He has always been there for you at night, reading to me, walking with you, a warm body to turn toward when you were done with mine.

You are done with mine now, and I cherish the memories from when it was my body, my presence and my breast and my milk, that you needed — but no more than I will cherish the memories I etch in my mind on nights like these, when I steal into bed hours after you both crossed into sleep, and I see you, my family, my hearts, lying together: him with an arm curled above your head, you pressed to his side, stretched out so impossibly long, one leg claiming the space I’ll push you aside to slip into, momentarily. But first I give myself this, this time when I am the intruder on something intimate. I am a part of it, yes, but apart from it as well. You two are two, complete, whole on your own: add me, three, and we are something different, not better, just bigger.

Dear child, know this: I love you with all that I am; I am your mother, from my body were you born — but I am not the only one who loves you completely, unreservedly. You will grow up knowing this, of course, grow up having so many moments in which I am on the outside, and you two are two, together. This will be old news to you, because love is built daily, and he is there for you, loves you in actions and words and presence, every day. But indulge me, and allow me these moments when I see your love and it explodes me, when I write it down so I do not forget.

There is quiet now: my two hearts slumber in another room, while I toil, alone. I would have it no other way; and neither, I think, would you.

******

Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(This list will be updated Feb. 9 with all the carnival links, and all links should be active by noon EST. Go to Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama for the most recently updated list.)


]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/02/moments-in-time-a-love-letter/feed/ 15 WFPP Guest Post: Can Mama Bear Let Go? http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/01/wfpp-can-mama-bear-let-go/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/01/wfpp-can-mama-bear-let-go/#comments Wed, 13 Jan 2010 14:00:22 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=1430 Welcome to the Womanist/Feminist Parenting Primer, PhD in Parenting-style. Annie brings to the WFPP her usual informative flair on the subject of leaving her children in the care of her partner while she leaves the house to work.

Annie wishes to include this disclaimer: This post gives the perspective of a male-partnered cis woman who carried [...]]]> Welcome to the Womanist/Feminist Parenting Primer, PhD in Parenting-style. Annie brings to the WFPP her usual informative flair on the subject of leaving her children in the care of her partner while she leaves the house to work.

Annie wishes to include this disclaimer: This post gives the perspective of a male-partnered cis woman who carried and birthed her two children (“mama bear”). The biological facts and societal assumptions discussed in this article may not apply in adoptive or surrogate situations or in non-heterosexual relationships.

Can Mama Bear Let Go?

A baby develops a connection to its mother as it grows in the womb. That connection is reinforced as the mother holds the baby to her breast for the first time and then over and over again. Biology and society place the mom as the primary caregiver for new life. In her book, The Female Brain, Louann Brizendine, M.D. describes what happens after a woman gives birth to a baby:

For the human mother, the lovely smells of her newborn’s head, skin, poop, spit up breast milk, and other bodily fluids that have washed over her during the first few days will become chemically imprinted on her brain – and she will be able to pick ut her own baby’s smell above all others with about 90 percent accuracy. This goes for her baby’s cry and body movements, too. The touch of her baby’s skin, the look of its little fingers and toes, its short cries and grasps – all are now tattooed on her brain. Within hours to days, overwhelming protectiveness may seize her. Maternal aggression sets in. Her strength and resolve to care for and protect this little being completely grab the brain circuits. She feels she could stop a moving truck with her own body to protect her baby. Her brain has changed, and along with it her reality.

Brizendine goes on to explain that for a woman who does birth a baby, this is perhaps the biggest change she will experience in her life. But increasingly, people are realizing that despite this strong biological connection and despite society’s assumptions about a mother’s role, the birth mother does not have to take on the lion’s share of the nurturing and caregiving. Whether the parents choose equally shared parenting, whether the birth mother is the primary breadwinner, or whether the non-birth mother chooses to induce lactation to share in the primary care duties, there are many scenarios where mama bear…the one who carried and birthed that baby…may need to let go. If we want to achieve the goals of feminism, we need to not only ask for more options for mothers, but also ask their partners to step up and be more than a babysitter. But we need to give them the space to do that. We mama bears need to be willing to let go a bit.

Letting go, for me, had two parts. First, I had to be able to separate myself both physically and emotionally. Second, I had to be able to trust my partner to take over a significant portion of the nurturing. In this post, I’ll share some of my thoughts and experiences about letting go as a working mom whose partner is a stay at home dad.

Separating myself

Physically turning and walking out the door as your child tugs at your pant legs and screams “MAMAAAAAAA” is excruciating. Listening from the other room as your partner fumbles through a difficult parenting moment when you feel you have the answer requires patience. Being a slave to a breast pump instead of holding your baby snugly at your breast is tough. In her post Where’s the numbness?, Naomi from Mama’s Apple Cores wrote:

So, why on earth do I want to turn our world upside down so that I can be the one home? It seems so selfish, but I just can’t move beyond this strong feeling that I need to be home. I try to embrace what we have and focus on the richness of our life, and I do okay for a few days. And then one day I go crazy wanting to be home. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I scream. Drive and cry. Drive and scream. Panic attacks. Feel like I’m losing my mind. Maybe this is just my personal instability and being home would not solve that? Would I be happier if I was home? Would I be more stable? Or is this just a combination of me and lack of sleep?

For me, focusing on and getting the most out of the time I had with my kids was critical. When I was home, I babywore, breastfed, co-slept. That meant that even on the days when I did have to go to work, I could still physically be attached to my children for around 14 hours of the day. I never understood so-called “experts” who suggested a 6pm bedtime for a baby in a crib in a separate room. That would have devastated me. That would have meant seeing my child for 15 minutes in the evening and maybe an hour in the morning before work while trying to get ready and get out the door. Not an option.

Giving something to my baby while at work helped to. I pumped breast milk at work for my son until he was 12 months old and for my daughter until she was 18 months old. I would think of them constantly during the day and even get caught humming Elmo’s song over and over again as my brain connected with them despite our physical separation. The drive home was long, very long.

Having a routine helps. It is hard at first. But after a while you and the kids kids realize that each morning Mommy gets up and goes to work. She stays there for a while and she comes home not long after their afternoon nap. Once you realize that there are five days (or whatever it may be for you) where you have to plow through it, but you can then spend two days focusing on your kids, it gets easier. At least it did for me. But a big part of it getting easier was knowing that my kids were in great hands, which brings me to the next part…

Trusting my partner

To have peace of mind when I go out the door or even while I focus on a task in one room while my partner parents in another room, I need to trust him. For me, trust means knowing we agree about the big things and understanding that the little things don’t matter that much.

My partner and I share the same basic attachment-based parenting philosophy. We both agree that leaving our kids to cry it out is not an option. We both agree that breast is best and that our children were going to be given breastmilk exclusively as infants. We both treat our children with the respect that human beings deserve. Knowing that we are on the same page about the big things is what allows this mama bear to let go. I know of other couples where one of them believes in crying it out and the other doesn’t. Where one thinks it is fun to sneak an infant a McDonald’s sundae and the other one wants the baby exclusively breastfed. Where one regularly humiliates and spanks the children and the other believes in gentle discipline. When parents have such vastly different parenting philosophies, trust is difficult and I know a lot of moms who take it all upon themselves so that they do not have to leave their child with the irresponsible or abusive person they chose to raise children with. I am so thankful that I am not in that position.

But letting go also requires not freaking out about the little things. For me, much of how I parent is about the way that I want to relate to my kids. It is about the relationship that I want to build with them. It is about the way that I want them to see me. It is about what I want to teach them and the values that I want to pass on. But the reality is that every human being will have to deal with a large variety of different teachers, bosses, friends, partners, colleagues, and so on over the course of their life. They will not all relate to them in the same way and I think it does children good to learn different ways of relating with different people. Being exposed to different parenting styles will help prepare them for that. The little things are just not worth sweating. They will not make that big of a difference (if at all) in how your child turns out, but stressing over them will have a big impact on your anxiety levels and on your relationship. Your partner needs to know that you trust him or her to make good parenting choices when you are not there (or even when you are) and that even if he or she does have a bad parenting day, that that is okay too.

Finally, your kids need to see that you trust your partner. I like to remind my kids as I am leaving that they will have a fun time with Daddy. I ask them when I get home what fun things they did together. I try to show them that I am happy to see them develop that bond and to have that special time with their other parent.

Hibernating?

In my experience, yes…mama bear can let go. But maybe not forever. I go on dates with my kids to reconnect. I need extended vacations with my kids to deepen and strengthen our relationship after long periods of hard work and repeated separation. This summer, I’m looking forward to hibernating for a few months with my kids while papa bear ventures back out of the cave for a bit.

Annie is the mom of two kids, Emma (age almost 3) and Julian (age 5). She tries to stir up issues and spark discussion on the art and science of parenting at the PhD in Parenting blog.

]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/01/wfpp-can-mama-bear-let-go/feed/ 20 Invitations, Not Resolutions http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/01/invitations-not-resolutions/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/01/invitations-not-resolutions/#comments Tue, 12 Jan 2010 08:00:55 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=1401 Welcome to the January Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting resolutions!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing about how we want to parent differently — or the same — in the New Year. Please read to the end to [...]]]> Welcome to the January Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting
resolutions!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing about how we want to parent differently — or the same — in the New Year. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

******

Invitations, Not Resolutions

I don’t do resolutions. I don’t do them because there are so many things that are easier to say than to do. I don’t do them because they are made to be broken, and I wish to be whole. I don’t do them because I deserve more than token self-improvement once a year. I don’t do them because I deserve compassion and love every moment of every day, and the shame of failed resolve never.

I do have intentions and aspirations though, not annual, but arising from every day. I intend to treat my child — as well as myself — with the respect and compassion he deserves. I aspire to be the parent I glimpse in myself in those moments when he is falling apart and I am overflowing with love and patience and creativity and am able to smooth things over seemingly without effort.

Of course, they are intentions and aspirations because I so often fall down. A resolution, once failed, is broken. An intention, to the contrary, can act as a guide in the broken moments: So you messed up, it says, what can you do now?

Because in every moment, I have a chance to do better. In any moment, I can choose love, and compassion, and creativity, and joy. At any time, even if I was just yelling and screaming and snatching and controlling (resolution fail!)… I can stop. And breathe. And let my intention fill me, and choose another, kinder, path.

Sometimes I am able to. Sometimes I choose joy in the first place; sometimes I can stop myself mid-yell, or better, exhale my angrily inhaled breath in a silly stream of tongue-blowing release. Sometimes, inevitably, I cannot, and even as I recognize that the path I am on is not the one I wanted, I cannot seem to let go of the rage, the fear, the need to have things just so when my child is determined to have them just so in an incompatible way. And then? Then is when I call forth my aspiration again, and first forgive myself for not being the way I wanted to be.

I do not think yelling (in the bullying way of a powerful parent to a marginalized child) is OK; I don’t think it’s effective, appropriate, or beneficial to any human relationship, much less the parenting one. But even when I do it, I am still deserving of love and compassion — just as my child is as he throws himself on the floor because I cannot make the planes stop flying overhead, or will not offer myself as his human punching bag.

And maybe resolutions work for some people. Maybe some need that break, that absolute abandonment of a prior way of being; far be it from me to tell another how best to live, and obviously, I lack perfect answers. But I, I do not resolve. I invite, and intend, and aspire.

This year, as in each moment, I invite into my life: compassion for the hurt; love for the angry; creativity to search out satisfying solutions; laughter for those falls and flaws and faults; and joy in even the darkest moments. And oh, let it begin with me.

******

Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(All the links should be active by noon on Jan. 12. Go to Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama for the most recently updated list.)

• To Yell or Not to Yell — The Adventures of Lactating Girl
• It Is All About Empathy: Nurturing a Toddler’s Compassion Potential — Baby Dust Diaries
• To my babies: this year… — BluebirdMama
• Mindfully Loving My Children — Breastfeeding Moms Unite!
• January Carnival of Natural Parenting: Resolutions — Code Name: Mama
• Imperfect Mother — Consider Eden
• Resolutions — Craphead (aka Mommy)
• FC Mom’s Parenting Resolutions 2010 — FC Mom
• What’s in a Resolution? — Happy Mothering
• January Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting resolutions — Hobo Mama
• Natural Parenting Resolutions — Little Green Blog
• This year, I will mostly… — Look Left of the Pleiades
• Parenting Resolutions — The Mahogany Way
• I Resolve to Breastfeed In Public More Often — mama2mama tips
• Moving to Two Kids — Megna the Destroyer
• Use Love — Momopoly
• My parenting resolutions — Musings of a Milk Maker
• Talkin’ ’bout My Resolutions — Navelgazing
• Parenting Resolutions — One Starry Night
• Invitations, not resolutions — Raising My Boychick
• No more multitasking during kid time — The Recovering Procrastinator
• I need to slow down, smell those roses AND the poopy diapers — Tales of a Kitchen Witch Momma
• Resolutely Parenting in 2010 — This Is Worthwhile

]]> http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2010/01/invitations-not-resolutions/feed/ 16 There are no solutions in the status quo http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2009/12/there-are-no-solutions-in-the-status-quo/ http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/2009/12/there-are-no-solutions-in-the-status-quo/#comments Thu, 10 Dec 2009 09:42:01 +0000 Arwyn http://www.raisingmyboychick.com/?p=1250 A friend of mine, Lyla Wolfenstein, posted a link to this article on her Facebook page tonight: Mother and Child Communion: A Collective Challenge for Our Future

While I’m a fan of biologically appropriate parenting, and have been known to say that I believe in attachment theory the same way I believe in the theory of [...]]]> A friend of mine, Lyla Wolfenstein, posted a link to this article on her Facebook page tonight: Mother and Child Communion: A Collective Challenge for Our Future

While I’m a fan of biologically appropriate parenting, and have been known to say that I believe in attachment theory the same way I believe in the theory of gravity, I was, shall we say, a bit inspired by much of the piece. (We could, a bit more precisely, say “pissed the **** off at”. But “inspired” sounds so much more refined, don’t you think?)

Some highlights:

The past fifty years of social and human-rights evolution has flung open doors and choices to women; and yet, the past fifteen years of advances in brain and developmental science have given us information that should—if we’re paying attention—make those choices harder: Relationship with a consistent, stable, attuned, loving adult, within a predictable, stable environment, is what builds a healthy brain and develops a successful human, period. [emphasis in original]
…
Those who are equipped to really enjoy being with their children, who find full-time mothering an enriching experience, are still a cultural anomaly! It is no wonder then, in a society where social programs are driven by consumer demand of the economic majority, that we don’t have family leave, career flexibility, and other policies that would support mothers and children being together for the critical first three years. We wish we wanted them, but do we really?

Apart from the extrapolation from “in those early weeks and months, it is mother whom the child knows from their nine months of prenatal communion, it is mother whose very body, voice, smell, heartbeat and essence is perceived as an extension of his very being” to “mothers and children being together for the critical first three years“, I had a few, ah, issues with the article. This is what I wrote in response:

The article presents a false dichotomy: women at home, or mother-infant separation. It’s only in our current (kyriarchal) culture that those are the only two choices. As unnatural and harmful that separation of the maternal-infant dyad is, so is the isolation of that dyad from a greater society. Women in this culture, and in many others, are thus faced with the choice of damaging their infant, or damaging themselves, and through them, their infant (because it is a dyad, and harm to one is harm to both) — when they even have the privilege of having that choice at all.

Some of us do OK parenting in isolation (some of us thrive on it, and some of us can stay at home without isolation, and some very very few of us have the option to work in society with others and take care of our babies in those early months) — just like some babies do OK with separation (some babies thrive in a child-care setting, and some very few babies get carried along with their mother while she engages in other work as well). But it’s not the norm. It’s not the biological default. And it’s really not OK to present “maternal-infant separation and infant damage” and “maternal-infant (isolation)” as the only two options, and say one is inherently superior, when what we need to do is fix society, so everyone has options that can work for all parties — and the freedom to actually pick that which works for that particular family, at that particular time, because not only each woman but each dyad is different.

The article gives a nominal nod to the idea of societal changes, but mentions mostly those which continue to leave the dyad isolated: family leave (at least not maternity-only leave!), and “career flexibility” — only those that allow for “full-time mothering”. How about options to bring the baby in to work? Connecting primary caregivers together (work shared is work lessened)? Bringing the dyad into community, and not just by offering “Mummy and Me” music hours, but with support, and responsibilities, and real relationships? And yes, non-institutional child care options, and all-parent leave, and support for grandparents and other allomothers to build those stable, loving bonds through daily care?

Until we address the societal institutions and policies and oppressions and beliefs that force us into false dichotomies, into harming one OR another (if we are lucky enough to have any choice at all), and as long as it is seen as a “woman’s choice”, not society’s responsibility, I maintain that calls for “mother-child communion” will be functionally, if not intentionally, misogynistic, and little more than another volley in the “mommy wars” this piece purports to reject.

Lyla further replied with this, which I think is an eloquent call for talking about both “brain and developmental science” and the constricting, restrictive realities currently faced by the vast majority of women:

i think it’s so important to really understand our babies’ and children’s biological imperatives, the biological norms they are programmed to expect, and the impacts of ignoring those, or circumventing them. and i appreciated that this article called out those truths, violating the “cultural code of silence” – but i also totally agree that the “solutions” presented, and the false dichotomy, are not helpful in truly transforming the experience of mothers and children in our culture.

it would have been beautiful to build on those biological truths to reach for deep, meaningful, and far reaching solutions, rather than rely on the same dichotomy by which the “cultural code of silence” is inspired in the first place.

Can we do that? Can we have a conversation in which biological sciences are not used to browbeat women into submission to patriarchal, heterocentric norms? in which women’s struggle for autonomy is not at the cost of belittling or dismissing the needs of another marginalized group? in which we acknowledge the vast variety of configurations families come in? in which we acknowledge that there is not one universal solution, because we are all different? in which we do not place societal influence and personal autonomy in opposition to each other, because both are equally real? in which we do not allow any dichotomies, because they are all inherently false? in which we have a sincere, nuanced, respectful exchange of ideas instead of a mud-slinging and name-flinging shouting match?

And then, perhaps, could we go out and actually do something to help women and parents (of any gender) and children?

Because that would be nice.

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