Attachment Parenting My Way
I originally wrote this article on August 30, 2014.
From the birth of my kids, I’ve chosen to be an attached parent. During infancy and toddler-hood, I was at my babies’ beck-and-call. I was also alert to their gradual need to explore outside of my arms. All along, I’ve followed their cues.
My older child didn’t leave my side until around age five—my attempts to get her to play with the other kids on the playground were futile. I did my best to be patient; though, it didn’t come easily for me. Looking back, I wish I would have just enjoyed pushing her on the swing, like a sweet meditation, for all those hours instead of aching to talk to other adults. The best things I’ve learned from parenting is that each moment holds all that I need and that being with my kids is such an honor. Thankfully, I still get to push my kids in the swings and push them for as long as they want me to, knowing I’m not missing out on one thing!
My younger child was much more into exploration at an earlier age. I don’t know if this was due to her personality or due to my being a much-more at-ease parent who trusted the (child-led detachment) process much easier the second time around.
Now, my older child likes a lot of time to herself. The more at-ease I feel in life, the more at-ease she feels–she’s always mirrored my internal life. It’s fascinating to see how she has grown to be so independent, calm, sure and at-peace. For a while, even when I originally posted this article, I thought she was quiet due to not feeling comfortable sharing her feelings with me; but since, I’ve realized that she’s simply content with not having to talk all the time.
I want my children to feel free to be themselves—including not talking about their feelings if they don’t want to. I recall my own childhood, and even into adulthood, when I was so afraid to communicate about my feelings because I would get reprimanded. That is what I fear for my own kids. So I tell them that. I tell them I’m afraid that they don’t feel safe to share some things with me; and as a result I can’t help them. And I then try to back off.
I was told from the birth of my first child, by people who I had thought cared about me, that I needed to put my baby down, it didn’t hurt her to cry a little bit, and all sorts of other comments including how I was screwing up my child. These people seemed resentful towards me for being an attached parent. I assume it’s because observing me tapped into their own pain and insecurities surrounding ‘being nurtured’—if they were truly concerned for me, they would have helped me with the other things in life so I could have more energy for my baby and myself. People seem angry about putting kids’ needs first. I let go of important relationships because of lack-of-understanding and flat-out hurtful comments; I certainly didn’t need to feel like shit anymore than I already did. With no role models, let alone emotional support, for how I’m raising my kids, it’s easy to get down on myself.
Attachment parenting isn’t to be confused with being an obsessed helicopter parent. I don’t think any kid–or adult, for that matter–wants to be smothered, or for the parent to hyper-focus on everything the kid says and does. Kids–and adults–also don’t like being talked to like they are idiots and hard-of-hearing, or to feel like the parent doesn’t want to provide guidance (‘Should we leave now, two-year-old Billy?’). I cringe when I hear the helicopter parents at the library talking loudly to their child, proudly showing the world what instructive, poster-parents they are. Like a dog hearing a silent whistle, I can hear their teeth clenching; and yes, after a while, they can’t maintain their show and they ‘lose it’ on some level. Authenticity in parenting goes a long way. There’s really no one to impress but yourself; it’s a thankless job.
I find that many parents don’t come across as emotionally in-tuned with their kids; yet they proudly hound their kids over grades, force the kids into activities, insist on blind obedience of strangers, make them perform to show off their skills, dress their kids up for show, and otherwise police their kids’ every move. Evidently, this is acceptable in our culture, but being emotionally-attentive is not.
Conscious, attached parenting is a dance.
The recollection of my own traumatic childhood makes me hyper-aware of how I am parenting: careful to not do the extreme opposite (which can result in more-of-the-same), attempting to be aware of the here-and-now and seeing my children as completely different people with completely different life experiences than I have had:
Being present and available, but not being smothering.
Being conscious and tuned-in, but not writing stories in my head about what could be wrong or how I am screwing them up.
Referencing my experiences, but not wanting to overshadow their own with mine.
Wanting to teach them what I know and to impact their lives with my beliefs, but also wanting them to think for themselves and form their own beliefs.
Being open to all that they teach me (so, so much), but not wanting them to feel responsible for me or feeling insecure that I am not guiding them with my experience and wisdom.
Wanting them to not feel like weirdo-outsiders and to learn to set their own limits and boundaries, but also pointing out the bullshit, shallow commercialism, pop-culture, mind-control messages and all-consuming techy stuff.
Letting them speak their minds and express themselves, but teaching them to also be conscientious towards people they care about and others’ space and things.
Getting them to want to pitch-in because they care about our family and themselves and because they are intrinsically-motivated, but not having to play barking-policewoman or else giving up on any sense of order.
Being encouraging and fostering self-motivation, but not trying to manipulate behavior or to be behavior-focused.
Wanting for them to be self-driven, curious learners, but also teaching them what I know they will need, based on what I have needed, when living life and being out in the world.
Fostering the beliefs in abundance and that we can have all that we desire, but also fostering simple-living, pausing prior to spending, and budgeting.
Allowing space, but also engaging with them in things they enjoy doing with me.
Letting myself be me, but also being aware of being watched and listened to all the time by my kids.
Wanting to model powerful, intentional female, but feeling overwhelmed a lot.
Freely sharing about my struggles, but also sharing my triumphs, skills and passions.
Wanting them to believe that life is good, yet not believing that myself sometimes.
Being expressive and open with my feelings so the kids know me and know what’s going on (not doubting what they feel in the air, their intuition), but not stressing them out.
Having my own interests, but being okay with many interruptions and putting ideas on hold in order to be available for the kids.
Giving all of myself to my kids and our lives, without making them feel like they owe me anything.
Teaching them that sacrifice is bullshit, but being totally aware that I wouldn’t be living how I do if I wasn’t responsible for them.
Doing what I don’t love (shopping, cooking, cleaning), but not making them feel guilty for, or stressed out about, my lack-of-enjoyment.
Allowing and trusting them to have relationships with the people they enjoy, but also pointing out when things aren’t healthy so they don’t blame themselves or think abuse is normal and acceptable.
Giving them freedom and space, but not making them feel badly for how much I miss them when they are gone.
Keeping myself going by reminding myself I won’t have this massive sense of responsibility for forever, but also embracing and appreciating each moment right now.
Feeling proud that they don’t need to talk to me much when they are away from me, knowing that everything I’ve done and given through this moment has paid off and is apparent in my kids’ independence and in-the-moment-fulfillment, but not crying my eyes out with the realization that all that’s really left is me.
I am the only one here, the absolute only one who I can expect, to pat me on the back. I am the only one who can find fulfillment in my life as it is right now.
And that’s what it’s all about. Surrendering to parenting is really surrendering to myself.
When I became a parent, it was so difficult for me to let go of my career-minded focus, to let go of trying to show the world how ambitious and smart I was, to stopping working my way up the ladder without a bachelor’s degree (‘I’ll show them I don’t need a flippin’ degree!’), to give up being able to work on something obsessively from start-to-finish with only myself to tend to, to let go of my old definition of success and productivity, to not be able to hide behind my job, to have to balls-to-the-wall heal from all of my shit because of my kids reflecting myself back to me, to keep going when it’s felt like the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, to find my peace doing something which swallows me up whole, to do this venture alone and give all of myself to doing it, to transform everything I ever knew and believed, to listen to my gut and heart—to believe in myself–when everyone around me thinks I’m insane, to tap into my power and my courage and my resilience and to stop looking outside of myself to be saved or for my worthiness and value to be proven.
No one can tell me that I’m sacrificing for my children. I’m being myself, in the raw. I am standing alone and standing strong with who I am and what I believe in. I’ve never been more true and authentic to my soul. That’s scary as hell. But that ain’t no sacrifice.
Only conscious, attachment parenting could have brought me to where I am now, to who I am now: Mama lioness. Protector. Space-creator. Relentless-giver-of-love. Powerhouse. An inspiration to myself. My own best friend. My own hero. Unstoppable. Unmovable.
Warmly,