I have two boys from my first marriage. They are Kaleb and Teagan (rhymes with Reagan). They are ten, and eight. I was twenty one years old when I became a mom. I was also extremely emotionally unstable, due in no small part to the way I was raised. Now, this isn't about bashing my parents. I do not believe they ever intended to do me any harm. I think they were doing the best they could with what they knew at the time. Unfortunately, I do feel as if I suffered abuse at their hands at times, and I was damaged by many of the messages their parenting sent to me. I think they would vehemently disagree with some of those statements, but this isn't about them. My journey to acceptance of my parents and the relationship we have is a story for another day.
Having a child was nothing like I imagined it would be. He had his own will, and it was strong! He was like an entirely separate person from me! Unfortunately I didn't really come to that realization then. I fought him. In absolutely everything I fought him. Little did I know at the time, I was also fighting myself. Since Rowan has come into our lives, things have changed. While preparing for her birth I knew I wanted something different. Not that the boys' births were particularly traumatic or anything, I just needed to have the birth that I had always dreamed of no matter how "different" that dream was from everything you see and hear about birth. I finally felt like I was capable of doing what was necessary to get that. My husband was instrumental in this process. I started following different natural birth blogs and communities. These places tend to be more attachment oriented when it comes to what happens after you birth the babies. I began reading and seeing things. I was determined to be successful at breastfeeding this time. I found resources for that. I began reading about problems that could arise and what is recommended to work through them. I was ready. This co-sleeping thing made sense too. We didn't even have an extra room to put Rowan in anyway. I would be breastfeeding. It made sense that she be very near us. Babywearing seemed pretty cool. I could get into that. They have carrier that are actually comfortable? Sweet! I'll get me one of those! So I was very on board with all of this attachment parenting stuff. Somewhere in all of this I started asking myself "So at what point do you start being mean? When does the punishment begin, the yelling, all of that stuff that you have to do to get kids to behave?" It started to seem kind of silly to go through all of this trouble making sure my baby's transition into the world was as gentle as possible, free from fear and violence. Then go to the trouble to keep her close, nurture her at my breast, hold her against my body in a baby carrier all the time; only to start turning her away at some point, start scolding her and yelling at her, how counter-intuitive! Then I started to get the inkling that maybe you just didn't. Maybe the closeness just didn't end. I began digging deeper. I found more blogs and Facebook pages that were geared towards this gentle way of parenting. It blew my whole world up.
At the same time I was in agony over sending my boys to school. I just hated what they were experiencing there. I was getting so tired of what little time I got with them being spent fighting them to do homework, or hurry up and get ready already because we have to get to the bus! I decided I was going to do the homeschooling thing. I actually always had this inkling deep down inside that I shouldn't be sending my children off to school. This was another aspect of that fight with myself I mentioned before. It seemed like to be "normal", to fit in with everybody's expectations was such an internal battle with myself. It tore me up inside for years. All of the "conventional wisdom" kept telling me to push my babies away from me, from the very start, and then I had to send them off to spend the majority of their waking hours with someone else? What sense did this make? In a rare supportive moment my parents steered me in the direction of the homeschooling group through their church. It was here that I was given the courage to just go for it, that I didn't necessarily have to know how it all was going to work out before I jumped into it. I didn't end up joining, and I never went to another meeting. Our way of homeschooling is very, super different from these devout Catholic families. But they gave me that push that I needed. I'm grateful for that. Those ladies probably have no idea what they did for me, but it was instrumental. Since Rowan was due in December I decided I would pull them from school then. They wouldn't return after Christmas break. People thought I was crazy, I know this. I was going to have a brand new baby and I was pulling my other two out of school so I'd have to deal with them every day too?? At that time, one year ago, I had no idea we would become the unschoolers, or dare I say it, somewhat "radical" unschoolers that we are today! I think getting a glimpse of that future might have scared the crap out of me! But I could not be happier with where we are, there's no doubt in my mind that it's exactly where we're supposed to be.
In hindsight I now recognize that my instincts were practically screaming at me to take another path throughout my boys entire early childhood. I wanted a home birth, but I talked myself out of it before it even became a serious consideration. I just "did what everyone does". I floated mindlessly down the mainstream. I told myself I couldn't have a home birth because I didn't have a home. Not that we were on the streets, but we were renting a condo when Kaleb was born. How could I home birth in a place that wasn't actually mine? That seems so silly now, but it was the reason I didn't do it. I wanted to breastfeed but he was colicy and he just wouldn't stop crying and it was just too hard! I wanted to breastfeed my second son but he wanted to be on my breast ALL THE TIME. Little did I know this was completely normal for a one week old. I thought to myself, "one bottle so I don't have to be holding this baby for a little while isn't going to hurt anything!" But one bottle became two, then three, and before his second week of life it was every feeding. I'm not even sure if I even knew that La Leche League or lactation consultants existed then. I wanted to home school, but again, I didn't have a home. Plus aren't there laws about that? I would have to look them up and make sure I was in compliance with them and that was just too much. I wasn't capable of all of that.Or so I told myself.
When I started this journey about a year or so ago I started having flashbacks. They would usually come in pairs. I would remember something horrible that I had done to one of my boys, usually Kaleb. As my oldest he bore the brunt of my ignorance and pain. Then almost immediately after a memory like that came rushing back I would remember one where I was the child. It would be something done to me, something that the first memory of myself and my son was obviously mirroring. So many of those things that I did did not feel like choices at the time. And in some ways they weren't. If you don't know there's another way, do you really have options? Despite all of that, they fill me with shame. I have learned to forgive myself. I have apologized profusely to my beautiful boys. I am going to tell you a few of those memories, as embarrassed as they make me, so you know how far from perfect I am.
I had both of my boys circumcised. It wasn't even really a choice I made. I didn't think that much about it, let alone research it. I think I probably even said the dreaded "Well you have the penis so you decide" to my ex husband. He is circumcised. He was also very young and probably didn't give it too much thought either. Not out of any malicious intent mind you. They wouldn't recommend it if it wasn't necessary would they? I first started questioning it when I noticed that my younger son's circ was "looser". He didn't even look circed compared to his brother. I asked myself, why put him through that if it doesn't even look different? When I first started following these gentle parenting pages and blogs I was introduced to intactivism and came across the notion that if you're doing it for the look of it, that's essentially cosmetic surgery on an infant. That hit me like a ton of bricks. Now I am thankful for his looser circ. At least he would retain some of what was taken from his brother. I am also thankful that I never attempted to retract what was left of his foreskin, or saw any Dr. do it. No one had ever told me that you're not supposed to, it just didn't seem right to mess with it so I didn't. I thank god for that. I have told my boys about circumcision. They know that they are, and what it means. Kaleb especially. I told them I was sorry. Kaleb said it was ok and he forgave me. I told him that he may not feel like it's just "ok" when he's a little older and really learns what he lost, but that I appreciated his forgiveness. His capacity for love and forgiveness is awe inspiring.
I probably let them cry it out. I do not remember specifically that I did, I may have successfully blocked that memory out; but I do not remember using any other, gentler method to get them to sleep. I can also see the sleep associated trauma in them now.
When Kaleb was a mere baby beginning to eat solid foods, I bought him cereal and jarred baby food, you know, like you're "supposed" to do. I sat him in his little high chair and I spooned the food in his mouth. He would spit it out, or wouldn't cooperate, or wouldn't eat it all, and I would get angry with him. I would force feed him. I made him gag and throw up at least once from shoving the spoon so hard down his throat in my frustration over him being his own person and not conforming to my will in all things. All of this because babies his age were "supposed" to eat that crap in jars, and I didn't want to waste food, if he wasn't hungry enough for the amount I guessed he'd eat that didn't matter. That food was money and dammit he was going to eat it! I hurt him. I made him frightened of me.
When I decided it was time to potty train I forced it. I yelled at him for soiling himself. I even spanked him once for pooping his pants when we were out. It was supremely inconvenient for me, so he paid the price. It's a miracle that he doesn't have bathroom issues today.
Once I forced him to stand in a corner. I stood behind him and hit him if he moved. I don't even remember why. He probably just did something that was annoying to me. He was only a toddler at the time.
These are just a few of those things that I did that bring me so much shame. When my beautiful boys came into the world I rejected their very bodies
by having them cut and altered, I turned them away from my breast, I
did not give them the comfort and support they needed to learn healthy
sleep associations. I forced them into sleep "independence" before they
were ready, without taking the time to actually teach them that sleep was safe, and not to be feared. I have hit, and I have yelled. I have shamed. I have disparaged and torn down. I have broken innocent little spirits.
Some of these things I still struggle with from time to time. I never hit anymore. I don't remember the last time I did. I still yell, when I am pushed to the edge. Usually there is some aspect of my own self care that has fallen to the wayside that coincides with these incidents. I am overtired, or hungry, I haven't gotten a chance to shower, or I just need a little quiet time to myself. I'm not excusing it, it's never ok. It's just so important to take care of yourself in order to care for your children. I always apologize when I do. I try to use it as a teachable moment as well. When I do not get the sleep/food/time I need for myself, it's harder for me to be kind. This is why it's important to take care of yourselves. If you're finding it hard, ask yourself if you are hungry/tired/need some alone time. Sometimes I still shame. I try to catch myself when I'm doing it and stop. I try to be aware of it, and apologize whenever it slips past. The point is that I am far from perfect. I am not already a gentle parent. I am on a journey just like anyone else. And I'm human. I don't know anyone who doesn't find it difficult to be mindful of others when their own needs aren't met.
I try so hard to put myself in the position of the child, sometimes I still have a hard time empathizing with parents. Perhaps there's still a part of me that looks with scorn upon the mother I was to my boys when they were toddlers, and that's why I have a little bit of trouble still empathizing with parents in certain situations. Perhaps I still have a some forgiving of myself to do. Parents deserve empathy too. What we've been tasked with is probably the hardest thing there is. It's ok to be frustrated. It's ok to need someone to be understanding of your position, and not just that of your child. I wish there was someone who would have scooped me up and treated me with empathy when I was in the thick of that darkness so long ago. I was so despicable then, but what I needed more than anything was love and understanding. I could have used some gentle parenting then, probably more than at any other point in my life. I didn't need someone to tell me I was being a jerk. I already knew that. I was miserable. I spent a lot of those years despising myself. I was suicidal. It's a miracle that I'm alive today. My ex husband played a role in that. I also saw a really great therapist for awhile when Teagan was a toddler. He helped me immensely and we are still in contact to this day, even though I moved out of the state where he practices some time ago. It's also a miracle that my oldest son will even come near me, let alone hug me and tell me he loves me and that I'm a great mom, which he does very often. I am humbled by him. I still see his fear at those times when I'm starting to lose control. I see it in both of them. Usually that's enough to reign me in.My children should never cower before me.
When I am having a hard time being a gentle parent what helps me more than anything is for my husband to treat me like a hurting child. Because really, that's what I am in those times. I need him to listen to me, to say he understands. I need to feel his arms around me and be reassured of his love despite the ugliness I may have let loose into our home. What's even more important is that I need to believe him when he says these things to me. I need to believe that I am lovable, despite being imperfect. I need to believe him that I deserve kindness, despite sometimes being unkind. I need to be a gentle parent to myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment