By Adi Dwek Bonar - November 2015
“All the girls who are emotional and excited while watching an episode of ‘Baby Boom’ – watch ‘Super Nanny’ and you won't be anymore”. This is the delightful headline that caught my eye when I opened my computer this morning. With these words in mind, I took my own little toddler to her nursery. The same toddler that the memories of her birth keep filling me with vivid magical feelings, while I weep in front of the above mentioned ‘Baby Boom’. So is it really true that the difficulties we encounter while raising our children can easily dismiss the first excitement of the delivery room?
As someone who practices children’s psychotherapy, the psychoanalyst Winnicott had a big influence on my years of studies and training. Winnicott, a very well known and a much appreciated persona in the sphere of children’s psychotherapy, may be referred to as the psychoanalysis own version of the adored ‘Beatles’. Winnicott (1998) argues that the baby’s total dependency at the first period of his life is so obvious, that we tend to ignore it. The mother was once a baby herself, these experiences of being completely dependent, gradually becoming independent, are within her. The baby, on the other hand, was never a mother. He was never even a baby before in his life. For him, every experience is a primary one and the time is measured only by his mother’s heart beat and breath.
One of the things that I love so much about this man, is that he had the unique ability to write ideas which at first seem obvious and then, grant them a complex, deep and even paradoxical meaning. His marvellous texts filled my maternity leave with essence and meaningful words and colored the grey days of nappies, rocking, giant laundry baskets and longing for a good night sleep with vibrant colors. His words enabled me to find inner space of my own, verbalized my unnamed feelings and provided me comfort and a guiding hand. It was an essential reminder that between the burping and breastfeeding is hidden an extremely significant and shaping experience.
Now, while the little one is already hopping and running around the house, charmingly expressing her will and demanding a complete fulfilment of her desires, I have the time to think about this complete dependency. Don’t ask me whose dependency, as it was so difficult to distinguish, in those days, between hers and mine. Was it her mood or mine that set the atmosphere in the house? Was it her or me that had difficulties falling asleep at night? and for which one of us was the world new and incomprehensible? It was a time of complete identification between mother and daughter. We were one entity. The crying, as well as the laughter, were mutual and the magic, or the despair, were rising up to huge volumes. So obviously, it was so easy to forget that I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t getting enough sleep at night. My little baby was also spending most of her nights awake and wishing for some peace of mind.
I admit, it was difficult. And yet, I write these words and find myself missing this past year, despite the many sleepless nights, and the barking promises directed at my better half that there will be no more children. Isn’t that the nature of a time like that? Isn’t the duality of pure happiness and enormous frustration an integral part of such a formative event? I am not talking about our adult transition into parenthood coping with this new experience. I refer to the forsaken simple fact that my baby was in a state of total dependency and needed me not only for the physical care of feeding, putting asleep and nappy changing, but also for me to mediate all her insights and observations of the world. Is this world good in nature or dangerously seeking to harm? Do I have enough strength to find my own way and gain a bit of grasp or was I doomed to a life of suffering and lack of control? With this kind of responsibility every simple routine becomes a heavy weight dilemma.
I can't even try to summarize Winnicott’s words. I am not sure if anyone can accomplish this task. Therefore, I will only try to bring one more relevant concept. When Winnicott talks about the everyday experiences of the baby, he describes possible anxieties he would feel if he was left alone for a long time with no response. The baby would be anxious to fall apart into pieces ; to fall into infinity ; to die, die, die ; to lose every hope for re-attachment with his caregivers. Winnicott emphasizes that good care can replace these awful feelings with a good experience. The anxiety of falling apart becomes a feeling of calmness and peace, if the baby is well cared for. Falling into infinity becomes a pleasure, while the baby is carried in the hands of his caregivers and enjoying it. The fear of death is replaced by the wonderful feeling of being alive and finally, when the baby’s dependency is followed by stability and persistence, the loss of hope for re-attachment becomes the certainty that even when he is alone he is being taken cared of (Winnicott, 1998).
I want to suggest, then, that the malcontent yet happy, the exhausted and in-love mother, is in fact a mirror, a reflection if you like, of the baby's world, which fluctuates between existential anxieties and pleasure. Unlike his mother, the baby experiences these feelings for the first time in his life. The mother, on the other hand, is well equipped with an efficient and experienced tool box, regarding her unconscious experience as an infant, child and an adult. So is there any wonder why motherhood is diverse and dual as it is? Unambiguous and inconsistent at the same time, navigating through a world of black and white, between ‘Baby Boom’ and ‘Super Nanny’?
So I remind myself that these bipolar feelings are nothing like what my precious daughter must be feeling, swinging in an unstable inner reality, staring at me in order to find some comfort. And then I go again and make agreements with myself that I would always try to use my own feelings in order to understand hers and to provide her support and mediation in critical moments. With this important and significant role there is just no way I can watch ‘Super Nanny’ and lose my excitement, or so I hope…