Balance

Deconstructing a Mother's Insecurity

Every moment of our lives is made up of myriads of little decisions - what should we have for dinner, which coat to wear today, do I need a hat, is it time to go to bed. And since Sebi was born, that decision-making, which was so unconscious for the most part, has become fraught with so much more significance. Should we skip his bath today, what should HE have for dinner, should we allow him to watch one more Elmo video. Not least because these decisions are now affecting another being, one for whom the weight of responsibility sits squarely on our shoulders. But mostly because we've learned through experience that the little decisions with him quickly build into a domino effect, and can have lasting consequences. If he watches one more video, his bath may be too late, which means he might be overtired by bedtime, which means he might take longer to fall asleep, which will result in him waking earlier (and less rested) tomorrow, which will make him tired during the day, affecting his nap... and so on. But even this cascade of events is relatively short-lived, and can be rectified within a few days through watchful preemptive action - maybe an early bedtime tomorrow, or a quick rearranging of activities to skip videos altogether tomorrow. So, like I've mentioned before, you develop a system. Every time something throws the system out of balance, you regroup and adjust - have a hurried parental conference - and before long you're back in step.

But the things that truly terrify you - the ones that keep you up at night - and that no amount of planning (A, B, or C) can truly put to rest - are the decisions that might have long-term ramifications. True, ten, twenty, or even thirty years from now, probably no one will care (Sebi included) about whether he was formula or breastfed. Whether he slept early or late. But what if we have - either purposefully (having thought through all the pros and cons) or inadvertently - made decisions which will do him a disservice ten, twenty or thirty years hence?

I was reading a magazine the other day extolling the virtues of co-sleeping entitled "Who would want to sleep alone?" The catchy title stuck in my head, and I truly did spend a few sleepless nights wondering if our decision to move Sebi to his own room at 3 months, and our frequent insistence (except under certain conditions) that sleeping happen in his crib, have forever created attachment issues for him. Have we denied him physical comfort because of our ideas of "how it ought to be"? What other decisions might we have made for other reasons, which may have affected him in ways unknown to us? But then I remembered all the reasons why we DON'T sleep with him - some practical (not enough space on the bed), some personal (no privacy, prefer not to have a foot or head stuck in my gut as I sleep), some comfort-related (foot-in-gut, Sebi tends to perspire like crazy when sleeping next to us and wakes up hot and cranky.) We have actually taken quite a few naps with him, but usually with just one of us in the bed with him. And he does seem to prefer to sleep in his crib for the most part. (Or is that just something we tell ourselves so we feel better about it?)

After a few days following this unproductive line of thought, it occurred to me - Why then, should I trade our idea of "how it ought to be" for someone else's? I'm sure the writer's argument is well-thought-out, but so was our decision at the time. What makes the writer the expert? The fact that they put their thoughts down on paper, and someone published it? Then according to this blog site, I am at least as well qualified. A degree they may have gotten after years of studying child psychology? Perhaps, but that still doesn't make anyone an expert on MY child (not even mentioning the obvious fact that a PhD doesn't automatically make a better parent.) A maternal instinct telling them kids need to be held, touched, loved? Duh!

Okay, so having established that, I wondered why I'd gotten caught up in the fear-cycle. The reasons were obvious. The catchy fear-based title was meant to make me devour the article as a must-read. After all, if I hate to sleep alone, wouldn't my child? And the fact that I do enjoy cuddling up with him on occasion (until I end up with the foot in my gut), so maybe I am wistful about something I want more of myself. And then there was the strongest reason ever - that as a parent you're constantly questioning your decisions and wondering if you could do better. That's the REAL reason there are so many parenting books out there. No one has the answer. Because there IS no "the" answer. There are a thousand possibilities, each fitting a different child, a different parent, a different set of circumstances. And every parent doing their best with the hand they're dealt. I honestly don't think any parent is sitting there thinking - "How can I make a sub-par decision for my child today?" So we each find something that works for us (at the moment - there's no guarantee it'll work tomorrow) after looking at all the choices we can find. And then we're so relieved, we want to shout it from the rooftops. But then our neighbors have made a different decision, and we feel like we suddenly need to defend our decision to choose something other than they did, but we can only do that by putting down their choice, and so... you see where this is going, don't you? Suddenly I started to feel sympathetic toward the writer of the article. Another mother, who has chosen something that works for her, honestly believing it to be best choice, and writing about it. Who am I to judge her? And who is she to judge me? So why am I judging myself?

Ah, there we come to the crux of the matter.

And I recall myself, and find my center again. Realizing all I can do is let go the decisions I made already which can't be changed, change the ones that can. And forgive myself for any mistakes I have made, hard as that may seem. I find it very helpful to put myself on the other side of the coin to do that - I think about my parents and whether I want them carrying around any guilt about decisions they have made thinking they were in my best interest. Of course not. Do I want Sebi to ever feel guilty about his decisions made with the best intentions? No. So now's my chance to start setting an example.

And to hug and kiss him when he's awake so I am sure he feels loved, or cherished, or attachment, that rose by any other name.

Happy Thanksgiving. (Or, as Sebi says "Happy Birthday-giving")