I know I said that this endeavor was going to be about Attachment Parenting, but I suppose I have some things to say before I can get on with that. I need to cleanse my soul; clean out my closet if you will. In just 8 months I have become strangers with the “old me.” I have taken on a less popular parenting style with passion. This parenting style deeply contrasts with my lifestyle before my son was born. Most of you don’t know me so I should point out that when I take on new things I tend to put my entire self into it. Leaving not a trace of the past. There are just a few items of unfinished business before I move forward completely leaving that “old me” to be found only in pictures and memories.
I have control issues. Laugh if you will, but they are quite the bane of my existence. I do not fly, ride elevators or subways. I breathe heavy in a crowd, in the passenger’s seat of a car and on a bus. The latter trio is slightly less anxiety provoking because I am in control of getting out. When I cannot get out or control the situation I panic. So now take a step back and imagine this rule applied to everyday life. I am a clean person, neat freak and by-the-book rule follower. I like things in a row, in a timely manner, black and white and clear cut. I strive for order in the outside world to manage the disorder in the inside world.
This may have been why I was drawn to criminal justice as a young adult. I got my degree in criminology and planned to become a police officer out of college in New York City. Instead I went into social work. I worked with kids out of jail then family court. I moved to Chicago and got a job at a residential facility where I blossomed as a hard-working, passionate and badass social worker. The program was rigid, structured and every minute of the day was planned out. When the kids got “out of control” they were restrained and forced back into compliance with our program rules. They were medicated when they acted too hyper or too lazy. When they were too big for us to handle we called the police, put them in an ambulance and sent them to the psychiatric hospital where they were forced into compliance with yet another program.
I do not write this to begin a discussion about how social services handles our young people or to even express my own opinion about my experiences. I simply want to illustrate for you that I come from a very structured and rigid place. It was important to my work. I was drawn to it likely because it was also important for my emotional health. As my husband and I talked about our plans for childrearing he would say, “is our house going to be run like a residential program?” “Probably,” I said. Controlling my environment has always been a coping skill for managing my more unsettling emotions. It also made sense. It was logical. I am a thoughtful and rational person. This all fit together inside me like puzzle pieces.
So, on the afternoon of July 30, 2011 you can imagine my confusion when this newborn baby boy was placed in to my arms and none of what I believed before made sense. It felt wrong to pass him over to a stranger to give him a bath and to take his temperature. It seemed strange that he had to be taken out of the room to be given a vaccination when he was just born a moment ago. I was able to breastfeed as soon as he was born. That felt right. It felt right to hold him while he slept. It felt right to lose sleep so that I could make sure he was doing well. In the recovery room a nurse asked if I wanted her to watch him in the nursery so I could get some rest. I had spent much time with this nurse over the few days I was there and I know that she wanted to help and support me. But that still felt wrong. Over the days and weeks things unfolded in a way that still blows my mind. Nothing that I believed before makes sense anymore. I do not believe in molding a person, in providing rigid structure or in schedules. I thought that when Jack was born I would be leading his way through life. Now I feel that the most loving and natural thing to do is to follow him. I feel that throughout our life together we will take turns leading and following. He has been my greatest teacher and I trust him to teach me nothing but the honest truth. And I will listen.
But what to do with the vastness of crazy inside my head? How will I gain control over my mind if I cannot control my environment? Part of me says “embrace the chaos!” Another part of me knows that I have begun a long journey of learning to truly manage my emotions so that they do not become Jack’s burden. Jack is my environment now. It is important for me to leave that up to nature. I will guide him when necessary, but I will not control him for my own relief. For now I deep breathe, talk kindly to myself and, on occasion, I have some fun and allow myself to scrub that floor just a bit longer or line up Jack’s books from largest to smallest.
But for the most part the army general in me is a part of the past. I feel free now. Like I was also born the day Jack was born. So far I have embraced my new life free from rigidity. And all I can do is trust that my instincts will lead me in the right direction as they have up until now. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew what felt right and what felt wrong. It has been refreshing and calming to know there is a community of people who turned out to be doing the same thing I was doing. This community of people has made me more confident in what I am doing. They have given me a vocabulary for what I am doing. They have shown me that I can breastfeed, I can be an Attachment Parent, a natural-minded parent, gentle parent and still be a Badass.
Abby Theuring, MSW
