Until the other day, my one-year-old daughter and I had never been separated. I'd never left her with anyone, not even her dad. She cries if I leave the room. So I wear her wherever I go, hold her during naps, and sleep next to her at night. My daughter isn't the only one with separation anxiety; I didn't feel right during the three hours that we were apart.
Some of the parents I know have encouraged me to push her away, like a baby bird from the nest who will learn to fly (or will die.) That last possibility is what bothers me. Pushing works for the little birds who make it, but what about the ones who don't? Of course, I'm not suggesting that our babies actually die a physical death if we push them toward independence too soon, but I worry that the confident, interdependent person they may have become dies. Their relationships with us and with other people in the future suffers. Might those unfortunate little birds have survived if their mothers had been more patient or more in tune to the individual needs of each baby?
Other parents have assured me that my daughter would be transformed with the right training, so I would be free to go about without her. She would learn the skills necessary to cope with my absence such as drinking from a bottle, sucking a pacifier, and clinging to a doll or a blanket (when what she really wants is me.)
Sure, I would like to be able to take a shower by myself, or maybe even go to a concert, but at what cost? If I pushed my daughter now, would she learn to fly? She's not a bird, so she can't be accurately compared to one. We're a highly adaptable species. Our babies can learn not to need us if they must to survive, but that's not my idea of flying.
I know in my heart that I must meet my daughter's needs and my own. The convenience of letting someone else care for her is not one of my needs. My current and most important need is to nurture mine and my daughter's growing relationship. She's learning to trust me. I won't betray that trust for a shower or a night out.
Many wise mothers have encouraged me to do just what I'm doing--listening to my daughter. She knows what she needs. Her signals are loud and clear. Though I may, at times, feel overwhelmed by her need of me, I won't neglect my responsibility as her mother, because nothing can truly substitute for me in her life.
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