There are some days when it's all smooth sailing: Ruben doesn't wake up crying from a trapped burp in his throat, there are plenty of smiles and loving looks at different times of the day, I catch lots of Ruben's pees and poos (if you have no idea what I mean by that, check out elimination communication or read Christine Gross-Loh's "Diaper Free Baby"), Ruben shows delight in the food I offer him (again, a little bit differently from popular 20th century Western practices, we are doing baby led weaning), I manage to nap for at least an hour in the afternoon, and the sun shines on the UK. These are wonderful days, when I feel so in love with both my baby and my partner. These are the days when I manage to make dinner with relative ease and when Ruben falls asleep just shy of his bed time so that I have a few, extra, precious minutes to write on this blog.
On these days, I sometimes think back on the days that are very challenging. The days when I wonder if what I am doing as a mother is working or if it's "right". Doubt about my ability as a mother creeps up slowly, fed by the tiredness of the one hour long nap that I missed, the pees and poos that ended up on the living room carpet, the hurried meals which mean Ruben only got to chew on a piece of cucumber for dinner. On these days, the day moves in a weird rhythm and Ruben's cries of frustration and unhappiness leave me feeling disconnected. On these days, hearing that another baby goes to sleep at 7.30 in the evening can almost bring me to tears. This is not so much because Ruben has embraced the sun's rhythm (in the British summer, this means that he goes to sleep around 10p and wakes up with the first rays of sunshine, around 5.30a). Rather, I find myself wondering if I am making the right choices, if maybe, in a parallel universe, there is a mother B who has got it figured out with her son R, who goes to sleep at 7.30p every evening, who never wakes up crying in pain from a burp, and who is, of course, generally better off.
As I write this, I realize what a good day this has been, as I am actually capable of some self-irony. The truth is, though, that some days can be very hard. When Ruben's poos turned a bright green when he was three weeks old, I spent all my "extra" time/energy doing research, trying to figure out how to make things better (anything from block feeding because of a forceful let-down reflex to dietary changes, particularly by removing diary in my diet.) Now that Ruben is almost 9 months, a lot of the toughest bits have eased up, yet there are still times when I feel the pressure of being his mother very strongly and feel myself wondering if I'm doing all right.
I write about all this because I have been reading a wonderful book by Sue Gerhardt, "Why Love Matters: How Affection Shapes A Baby's Brain." First of all, Gerhardt is one of the co-founders of OXPIP (Oxford Parent Infant Project.) Check it out, it's a great organization that helps parents to connect with their babies because, as they say, "being a parent isn't easy."
Gerhardt is a psychoanalytic psychotherapist and in her book she looks at how love affects the development of a newborn's nervous system, especially through the first couple of years of their life. There is lots to learn in this accessible book, as Gerhardt reviews and expands on a range of recent research in neuroscience, psychology, psychoanalysis and biochemistry. It's a wonderful book that covers many different topics and I generally recommend it (even if you don't have children, to get an interesting perspective on your own brain and parents - maybe not an "easy read".)
Personally, however, something I read just the other night really struck a chord. In the second part of her book, Gerhardt looks at how shaky foundations in early relationships between parents and babies can lead to negative consequences. Gerhardt discusses how people learn to hide their feelings as young babies: as parents push for independence, babies sense early on "that their dependence and neediness is unwelcome, so they learn to hide their feelings" (Gerhardt, 93.) In this section of Gerhardt's book I recognized my own tendency to put on a smile and not share the tougher parts of my life, apart from when I feel very safe and supported. I also recognized that if I want to be emotionally available for Ruben as a parent, one of my many challenges is to be more connected with myself and more willing to feel, even those very bad days. Maybe especially those bad days.
I entitled this post emotional honesty. I think of this as my practice as a parent, to try and remain in touch with how I feel, to make room for the more difficult emotions (like anger, jealousy, loneliness, sadness). My wish is that I can learn more about emotional honesty thanks to and with Ruben, so that as he encounters tough times ahead, I can be present with him without carrying a big back load of my own unexpressed, bottled up, unrecognized feelings.
Today I write this in the hope that others might read and share the ways in which they try to stay connected, not just on those wonderful days when the sun shines, but on the days when things feel heavy and complicated. I know that meeting up with other parents has been incredibly helpful for me. I look forward to the monthly La Leche League meeting for mothers and babies with much gratitude for its existance. Lately, too, I have taken more initiative to meet with other parents in informal settings. Hearing how another baby is struggling with their teeth coming out, or how tired the mother of a crawling little girl is feeling, helps me feel part of a greater parenting network, in which we are all doing our best to take care of the amazing little creatures that are our children. What makes you feel better on your more difficult days?
As always, thank you for reading.
On these days, I sometimes think back on the days that are very challenging. The days when I wonder if what I am doing as a mother is working or if it's "right". Doubt about my ability as a mother creeps up slowly, fed by the tiredness of the one hour long nap that I missed, the pees and poos that ended up on the living room carpet, the hurried meals which mean Ruben only got to chew on a piece of cucumber for dinner. On these days, the day moves in a weird rhythm and Ruben's cries of frustration and unhappiness leave me feeling disconnected. On these days, hearing that another baby goes to sleep at 7.30 in the evening can almost bring me to tears. This is not so much because Ruben has embraced the sun's rhythm (in the British summer, this means that he goes to sleep around 10p and wakes up with the first rays of sunshine, around 5.30a). Rather, I find myself wondering if I am making the right choices, if maybe, in a parallel universe, there is a mother B who has got it figured out with her son R, who goes to sleep at 7.30p every evening, who never wakes up crying in pain from a burp, and who is, of course, generally better off.
As I write this, I realize what a good day this has been, as I am actually capable of some self-irony. The truth is, though, that some days can be very hard. When Ruben's poos turned a bright green when he was three weeks old, I spent all my "extra" time/energy doing research, trying to figure out how to make things better (anything from block feeding because of a forceful let-down reflex to dietary changes, particularly by removing diary in my diet.) Now that Ruben is almost 9 months, a lot of the toughest bits have eased up, yet there are still times when I feel the pressure of being his mother very strongly and feel myself wondering if I'm doing all right.
Gerhardt is a psychoanalytic psychotherapist and in her book she looks at how love affects the development of a newborn's nervous system, especially through the first couple of years of their life. There is lots to learn in this accessible book, as Gerhardt reviews and expands on a range of recent research in neuroscience, psychology, psychoanalysis and biochemistry. It's a wonderful book that covers many different topics and I generally recommend it (even if you don't have children, to get an interesting perspective on your own brain and parents - maybe not an "easy read".)
Personally, however, something I read just the other night really struck a chord. In the second part of her book, Gerhardt looks at how shaky foundations in early relationships between parents and babies can lead to negative consequences. Gerhardt discusses how people learn to hide their feelings as young babies: as parents push for independence, babies sense early on "that their dependence and neediness is unwelcome, so they learn to hide their feelings" (Gerhardt, 93.) In this section of Gerhardt's book I recognized my own tendency to put on a smile and not share the tougher parts of my life, apart from when I feel very safe and supported. I also recognized that if I want to be emotionally available for Ruben as a parent, one of my many challenges is to be more connected with myself and more willing to feel, even those very bad days. Maybe especially those bad days.
I entitled this post emotional honesty. I think of this as my practice as a parent, to try and remain in touch with how I feel, to make room for the more difficult emotions (like anger, jealousy, loneliness, sadness). My wish is that I can learn more about emotional honesty thanks to and with Ruben, so that as he encounters tough times ahead, I can be present with him without carrying a big back load of my own unexpressed, bottled up, unrecognized feelings.
Today I write this in the hope that others might read and share the ways in which they try to stay connected, not just on those wonderful days when the sun shines, but on the days when things feel heavy and complicated. I know that meeting up with other parents has been incredibly helpful for me. I look forward to the monthly La Leche League meeting for mothers and babies with much gratitude for its existance. Lately, too, I have taken more initiative to meet with other parents in informal settings. Hearing how another baby is struggling with their teeth coming out, or how tired the mother of a crawling little girl is feeling, helps me feel part of a greater parenting network, in which we are all doing our best to take care of the amazing little creatures that are our children. What makes you feel better on your more difficult days?
As always, thank you for reading.
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