On my personal weather front, our family is being buffeted by adolescence.  This is no easy process in our culture, and there is no map—we can only strive for a steady mind (but not too steady), a firm hand (but not too firm), the ability to let go (but not too much), and a clear vision of what is possible (without being too fixed).   Oh, and receptivity and determination and perseverance and a ready sense of humor.  It’s going great, thanks.  Look me up when it’s over.  Maybe you’ll find me in a deep zen retreat atoning for all my karma.

Meantime, here’s a recommendation for a fantastically comprehensive and readable rescue from what ails Moms:  “Mojo Mom:  Nurturing Yourself while Raising a Family.”  In this new edition, Tiemann integrates the latest research without weighing down the text, charms us with honest anecdotes that remind us we are not alone, and has plenty of good advice about what to actually do about our situations.  Culturally and psychologically savvy, she does not dismiss reality and yet never gives up hope for change.  I particularly enjoyed the arc of her chapters: from self-care to creativity, and finally to leadership.  And interwoven throughout the book is the importance of support—from our partners in parenting, our government, our sisters, even our children.   Read it, buy it for your friends, especially new moms, and let’s change the world together.

I love BlueMilk‘s questions (see the last comment on the 1st attachment post) which can be applied to any mother, not just one who identifies as an Attachment Parent. And I add: if we are so tired so brain dead from not sleeping not hearing adult conversation so involved in the success and failure of our child so confused so depressed maybe so limited—what are we giving? How can our children not drink our poison?

And, if that is our condition, how do we adapt to it? When we’re suffering, we begin to value the suffering. It takes on a heroic tone, and it’s pretty hard not to think everyone should be doing it too. I first saw the results of forced altruism when I was teaching medical residents. They take such pride in suffering that it is almost impossible for them to have empathy for their sick patients.

But who in their right mind would admit, even to themselves, that they are suffering if all they hear is that motherhood is bliss? Thankfully, miraculously, people are now starting to talk about how to support mothers so they don’t have to obliterate themselves.

So, I’m going to write fewer words from now on. I’ll put my writing into filmmaking, as I originally intended.  Now and then, on some irregular basis, I’ll post video clips with questions. (My next question will be about heterosexual fathers.) Your responses will continue to be posted, and I hope that you all continue to read each other.

If you want to stay tuned, I invite you to subscribe. If you want to see me spill my guts, order the movie. Watch it with your friends. Start some conversations using the Tiny Manifesto included with the DVD.

But before I sign off, I must be absolutely clear about one thing. I love my daughter more than I can possibly put into words. My film is made for her and dedicated to her. Freeing myself from martyrdom has released me to enjoy her for who she is. If I weren’t trying to give her a good life, I wouldn’t be doing this.

But let’s get real for a minute. Not every mother is happy at every moment to nurse a baby change a diaper listen to a story instead of doing all those other things that non-parents do: chill out read a paper pee in peace sleep until you want to wake up. All of us, not just AP parents, do what we need to do, and mostly we love doing it, but sometimes, SOMETIMES we are stressed out by the combination of work demands, not enough support, and the expectations for mothers nowadays.

I include AP among the expectations that stress us out because I have heard many mothers lament that they failed to measure up to the AP model. (See MoJo Mom and UnMartyred Wannabee, for example.) While it is easy to say that we should just do what works for us, the truth is that in the uncertain world of child-rearing, we look to the experts and to each other as guides. Some of these guides exude so much morality that it is easy to feel inadequate. If you ‘should’ meet your child’s needs so that your child will be confident, then every failure to do so will be a kick in the gut.

So, I have to ask:
Is it true that the more we meet their needs the more confident and independent they will be? Not according to Jessica Benjamin, the eminent feminist psychoanalyst:

“No psychological theory has adequately articulated the mother’s independent existence. [Theories] always revert to a view of the mother as the baby’s vehicle for growth, an object of the baby’s needs.” If the child, she says, cannot see the mother’s separate existence, he will attempt to ‘tyrannically enforce’ his demands in order to continue a “fantasy of absolute control.” Benjamin is not describing a bad child, only a child who has not reconciled with the reality of another being. If the mother identifies with the child’s disillusionment, and does not “accept that she cannot make a perfect world for her child,” she will tend toward “self-obliteration.”

Is that a problem?

It is, according to Benjamin: “The child who feels that others are extensions of himself must constantly fear the emptiness and loss of connection that result from his fearful power.”

Does that sound like a confident and independent child? Not to me.

But this is just a theory, right? Right. And so is the theory upon which Sears bases his detailed advice. I’m not advocating one theory as truth but I do want us to consider the effect on mothers of these differing views.

If I believe that a good mother never frustrates her child, I will take my child’s suffering personally. If I have an easy child, I will pride myself on my accomplishment. If I have a difficult child, I will berate myself for having failed to meet her needs.

However, if I believe that being a good mother includes existing as a separate person, whose needs on occasion trump the child’s, then I will be free to help my child manage the inevitable frustrations of living in the real world.

One more thing, I understand from the unmartyred and feminist (true, Pegasus, they are not equivalent) mothers who posted, that it is possible to AP in a way that nurtures the mother too, especially when there is support from a father who is unshackled from male cultural stereotypes. If it really works for you, then you are living Benjamin’s theory too. I’m just afraid that in the world as it is—most jobs are not flexible, most mothers have to work, most fathers do not expect to share child-care or housekeeping—the Sears theory punishes Moms for doing what is actually good enough parenting.

Here in the blog world, however, relationships are different and my assumptions get to be questioned.  A new feminist friend from Australia describes herself as an attachment parent.  Right there, I’m confused.   In a good way.

Here is what she says: “I think attachment parenting’s great weakness is a failure to adequately deal with the martyrdom trap. I don’t have lots of solutions yet but I think about this issue a lot, particularly from a feminist perspective.”

So, I’m just wondering if there are other ‘attachment moms’ out there who have thought about this. If you are doing the attaching thing (per Sears–I don’t mean garden variety attachment that we all experience) and you are not a martyr, could you explain how you do it?

Here is the back story:

May was a Rough Month.

I must begin with an obvious problem. I admit that I feel happy when people like what I’m saying and agree with me. Yet my mission in life seems to be to speak things that some people don’t want to hear. Yes, you could predict some trouble there. Naturally, I’m working on losing my attachment to self and identity, and when I do, baby, wow, I’ll really be free!

In meantime…my post On Narcissism generated an ongoing stream of hateful comments, which I didn’t post but which nevertheless nibbled away at me. For example, comments like “You should do all your patients a favor by quitting your job and staying home to damage your child full-time” and “your daughter appropriately ignored your tedious self-congratulation” and “you used a bogus interpretation of research on therapy to justify taking your daughter to task for failing to serve your bottomless narcisstic (sic) needs” did end up bouncing around in my head.

Worse, I began to actually try once again to put my child’s needs before mine. (During a month of screenings and email forums and network opportunities, this was particularly challenging.) My daughter, at 11 years, responded sensitively by upping every ante. And is it just my town, or does every school have 6 performances/ceremonies/events that occur in May?

Well, anyway I tried to do it all, and ended up crabby and miserable, failing to meet either of our needs. It was a rough rough month!

I recovered though. Reality knocked on my door and I let her in. Here’s how it happened:

• I fell and required medical attention. “Wake up!” Reality said.

• At a screening, a woman told me that she and her sisters got relief from their childhood misery only when their poor mother was working on an art project. “You aren’t alone,” Reality said.

• I reread Jessica Benjamin (soon to be reviewed here but in the meantime let me say that she is brilliant and convincing in her argument that the Mother must be more than an object who meets the child needs).

• After the amazing conversation following the RPCC screening, I rushed to my daughter’s spring concert, caught the end but missed her part. She wept publicly. Wept. Knife through the heart. And here’s where Reality really popped: Several mothers who witnessed the tears did not look at me as if I were a monster. Instead they said, “oh come on, [name of husband] never makes it. At least you had one parent there.”

I empathized with my daughter but I did not apologize. I asked if there was any way I could make her feel better without taking blame. We ended up just holding each other, both a bit sad and angry but close once again. I didn’t put anyone’s needs before anyone else’s. Isn’t it true that we are interconnected? Isn’t it true that all needs co-occur? Isn’t it true that we give what we receive?

If it is, then I can be UnMartyred.