There's always something to worry about when you're a parent, right? If we had had a birth child, I think my two bogeymen in the closet would have been SIDS and autism--two things that are really scary and that can happen no matter how many things you do right. Since our child was adopted past the age of early infancy, my bogeymen have been autism and attachment. For those of you who aren't psychologists or part of the adoption community, here's a rundown on attachment as I understand it:
Basically, when the relationship between a parent and child works as designed, the child experiences the parent as a source of comfort, pleasure and protection. The child thus comes to trust the parent to meet his/her needs, and enjoys the parent's presence. This is called a secure attachment. A child with a secure attachment seeks the parent out for both fun and help, and shows a healthy balance between dependence (trusting the parent to meet needs) and independence (trusting the parent not to go away). When something happens to disrupt the normal workings of the relationship--an extended absence of the parent, for example (I believe attachment problems were first described in children whose mothers had been hospitalized for an extended period of time), or a failure of the parent to meet the child's physical and emotional needs--then the child is at risk for developing an unhealthy attachment style. Unhealthy attachment styles include anxious attachment (e.g. the child doesn't trust the parent to stick around, and so reacts with panic if the parent so much as goes into the bathroom and closes the door), avoidant attachment (e.g. the child doesn't trust the parent to meet his/her needs, and so bends over backwards to prevent the parent from being in control of need-meeting, either finding another way or person to get the needs met or simply ignoring the needs), reactive attachment (e.g. the child expects the parent to reject him/her, and so takes control of the situation by acting in ways that will bring rejection on the child's terms), and ambivalent attachment (e.g. the child wants the parent's care and attention but can't bring him/herself to receive it). Children with unhealthy attachment styles have a greater-than-normal need to control the people in their most important relationships. They can be very charming to everyone other than their primary caregiver, which is itself a form of control. Children raised in institutions, where they may have had many caregivers and never had the chance to form a special, close relationship, or where they may have regularly experienced having physical or emotional needs that were not quickly met, are at special risk for attachment disorders. Children who experience a drastic change in caregivers at a young age, even if both the "before" and "after" caregivers are loving and responsible, are also at special risk.
So, before we got Esther I did a lot of reading about how attachment works and how to parent children in ways that mitigate the effects of unhealthy attachment and promote the formation of secure attachment. After we got Esther, I practiced what I had learned, watched her closely, and, occasionally, worried. She cried when I walked out of her sight for two seconds--could she be anxiously attached? She ran to a visitor that she had never met before and held up her arms to be picked up--was this indiscriminate affection a sign of trouble? She played by herself contentedly for half an hour--was she avoidantly attached? The first time we left her in the church nursery, she had a wonderful time and apparently didn't miss us--was that normal??
Then there were the signs of a developing attachment, which I greeted with relief. There was the day I was walking Esther around a restaurant, and one of the servers (not from the U.S.) picked her up without asking my permission, and Esther turned around and looked intently at my face, I'm sure to gauge my reaction, before she turned her attention back to charming the woman who was holding her. And there was the time I wanted to let my mother-in-law hold her in the rocking chair, because for once in her life Esther had actually sat still long enough to let me rock her, but Esther wouldn't have any of it because she wasn't feeling well and only Mommy would do. Then there was the time I left her on the porch with two of her grandmothers, people she knew and loved, while I went into the house to fetch some papers, and she stood by the door watching for me until I came back. And in church, right after she learned to walk, she had walked a little ways away from me, and when I knelt down and opened my arms to her, her little face lit up and she practically ran into my hug. And many, many times when she was teething on her molars I would pick her up crying from her crib and feel her snuggle into my shoulder, stop crying, and fall back to sleep.
I was thinking about all this last weekend when we went camping. We were a little unsure of how Esther would sleep in a strange place, but we had brought the all-important green blanket which now makes trips in the carseat bearable and which is necessary for her to fall asleep in the crib. She didn't have any trouble falling asleep, but towards morning she went through a phase where she kept half-waking and beginning to cry at finding herself in an unfamiliar place. At those times I had to hold her tightly against me, and she would subside back to sleep as long as I didn't let go. Later she would start to wake up, reach out and touch my hair, and go back to sleep again. I realized she wasn't reaching for her green blanket; she was reaching for me.
Last night I thought about it again when Esther and I were watching a friend's big dog through the kitchen door. Esther was very, very intrigued by Otis, and was having a wonderful time until he barked and scratched on the door. She jumped, and, without taking her eyes off the dog, sidled towards me and sat down on my lap, where the alarmed look faded from her face.
It's a good feeling to know that out of all the places and objects in the world, I'm the one that makes her feel the most secure. For now, that's exactly the way it should be.
Basically, when the relationship between a parent and child works as designed, the child experiences the parent as a source of comfort, pleasure and protection. The child thus comes to trust the parent to meet his/her needs, and enjoys the parent's presence. This is called a secure attachment. A child with a secure attachment seeks the parent out for both fun and help, and shows a healthy balance between dependence (trusting the parent to meet needs) and independence (trusting the parent not to go away). When something happens to disrupt the normal workings of the relationship--an extended absence of the parent, for example (I believe attachment problems were first described in children whose mothers had been hospitalized for an extended period of time), or a failure of the parent to meet the child's physical and emotional needs--then the child is at risk for developing an unhealthy attachment style. Unhealthy attachment styles include anxious attachment (e.g. the child doesn't trust the parent to stick around, and so reacts with panic if the parent so much as goes into the bathroom and closes the door), avoidant attachment (e.g. the child doesn't trust the parent to meet his/her needs, and so bends over backwards to prevent the parent from being in control of need-meeting, either finding another way or person to get the needs met or simply ignoring the needs), reactive attachment (e.g. the child expects the parent to reject him/her, and so takes control of the situation by acting in ways that will bring rejection on the child's terms), and ambivalent attachment (e.g. the child wants the parent's care and attention but can't bring him/herself to receive it). Children with unhealthy attachment styles have a greater-than-normal need to control the people in their most important relationships. They can be very charming to everyone other than their primary caregiver, which is itself a form of control. Children raised in institutions, where they may have had many caregivers and never had the chance to form a special, close relationship, or where they may have regularly experienced having physical or emotional needs that were not quickly met, are at special risk for attachment disorders. Children who experience a drastic change in caregivers at a young age, even if both the "before" and "after" caregivers are loving and responsible, are also at special risk.
So, before we got Esther I did a lot of reading about how attachment works and how to parent children in ways that mitigate the effects of unhealthy attachment and promote the formation of secure attachment. After we got Esther, I practiced what I had learned, watched her closely, and, occasionally, worried. She cried when I walked out of her sight for two seconds--could she be anxiously attached? She ran to a visitor that she had never met before and held up her arms to be picked up--was this indiscriminate affection a sign of trouble? She played by herself contentedly for half an hour--was she avoidantly attached? The first time we left her in the church nursery, she had a wonderful time and apparently didn't miss us--was that normal??
Then there were the signs of a developing attachment, which I greeted with relief. There was the day I was walking Esther around a restaurant, and one of the servers (not from the U.S.) picked her up without asking my permission, and Esther turned around and looked intently at my face, I'm sure to gauge my reaction, before she turned her attention back to charming the woman who was holding her. And there was the time I wanted to let my mother-in-law hold her in the rocking chair, because for once in her life Esther had actually sat still long enough to let me rock her, but Esther wouldn't have any of it because she wasn't feeling well and only Mommy would do. Then there was the time I left her on the porch with two of her grandmothers, people she knew and loved, while I went into the house to fetch some papers, and she stood by the door watching for me until I came back. And in church, right after she learned to walk, she had walked a little ways away from me, and when I knelt down and opened my arms to her, her little face lit up and she practically ran into my hug. And many, many times when she was teething on her molars I would pick her up crying from her crib and feel her snuggle into my shoulder, stop crying, and fall back to sleep.
I was thinking about all this last weekend when we went camping. We were a little unsure of how Esther would sleep in a strange place, but we had brought the all-important green blanket which now makes trips in the carseat bearable and which is necessary for her to fall asleep in the crib. She didn't have any trouble falling asleep, but towards morning she went through a phase where she kept half-waking and beginning to cry at finding herself in an unfamiliar place. At those times I had to hold her tightly against me, and she would subside back to sleep as long as I didn't let go. Later she would start to wake up, reach out and touch my hair, and go back to sleep again. I realized she wasn't reaching for her green blanket; she was reaching for me.
Last night I thought about it again when Esther and I were watching a friend's big dog through the kitchen door. Esther was very, very intrigued by Otis, and was having a wonderful time until he barked and scratched on the door. She jumped, and, without taking her eyes off the dog, sidled towards me and sat down on my lap, where the alarmed look faded from her face.
It's a good feeling to know that out of all the places and objects in the world, I'm the one that makes her feel the most secure. For now, that's exactly the way it should be.
1 comment:
This post reminds me of something I learned upon finding out I was pregnant with our first child - suddenly there were so many new things to be anxious about! And it doesn't go away - just changes over time. ; )
And it also reminds me of the incredibly amazing feeling of gratitude at the utter trust of your child falling into deep sleep on your shoulder. Having children definitely made me a better person - how much I wanted to never betray that trust!
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