Slow.down.some.more.

I have been a bit sick recently, and have been home more, but also sleeping more and doing less. I hate being sick (who doesn't?), but, as always, if you let yourself just be, there are surprises around the corner. I had very little energy these past few days, and this helped me do what I have most trouble doing - slowing down...

I *know* of the benefits of slowing down. I really do. And I try. I try more now with Antek around than before. But more often than not, I feel like I start at the top of the hill every morning, and from there all you can do is just keep picking up pace. Until the evening comes, you crash, and tell yourself that tomorrow will be different. And then you wake up at the top of that hill again...

I was sitting on the kitchen floor and Antek wanted to go outside. It was this time of day when his energy was too much to keep inside, but it was a bit chilly and he needed to put on a sweatshirt. I held the shirt out, explained that if he wants to go out he needs to put it on. He turned his back to me and went back to looking out and pointing out the door. I knew he wanted to go and play. I was really tired and had a huge headache. So I sat there and waited. And then I waited some more. And some more. And more... I closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened them again Antek was standing in front of me pointing to the shirt and stretching his arms up... we put the shirt on and he ran off. And I realized that I was feeling a bit embarrassed.

Had I felt better I would not have waited half the time. I probably would have found a way of explaining it again, or trying to convince him to put the shirt on. I would have come closer, and probably repeated what I had said. But was it really necessary? He needed to point at the window first, knock on the door, and then he was ready.

I have read and thought about what both Magda Gerber and Emmi Pikler say about slowing down. I have thought about it a lot since Antek was born. I let him develop naturally, 'in time, not on time' (Gerber). I do not rush him into things he is not ready to do physically. I take time during caring moments - nappy changes, baths, feeding... why is it so difficult to do the same when it comes to all those simple daily things? Why is it more difficult to slow down when it comes to sitting at the table or putting shirt on, than it is when it comes to sitting up, crawling, or walking? I don't know. All I know is that slowing down should really be my matra, not just during caring moments.

When I opened the door and let Antek out, I heard this song on the radio (things like this really make me stop and think, I have to say...):

Slow down, you're doing fine, you can't be everything you want to be before your time...

 

Revisiting our hands...

Recently, I have been struck with this thought of how quickly we learn, and how quickly we forget. Parenting is a wonderful journey, and every day we learn from our children. Every day, every moment even, we discover something about them, and something about ourselves, if we're open to it. But recently I have been thinking about all those thing we felt were very important in the beginning. All those things we felt strongly about. And how, with time, some of them have slipped away... so this week I have been trying hard to remember those first few weeks and what they taught us. One of the first things that came to mind was my hands.

Getting to know each other is of course mutual. As we get to know the child, he begins to know us, and this happens through our hands. Hands constitute the first relationship for the baby with world beyond breastfeeding. Hands pick him up, lay him down, wash, dress and feed him... What difference it makes when gentle, patient and peaceful hands, which also convey safety and clarity, take care of him. How different the world seems if these hands are impatient, rough, hasty, restless and nervous. In the beginning hands are everything for the infant. They are the person, the world... (Dr. Emmi Pikler, 'Peaceful Babies - Contented Mothers')

Our first few weeks were all about connection, relationship, getting to know Antek, and letting him get used to the world to which he was so new. We were very aware of our hands, of the way we touched, dressed, changed and hugged him. Our hands were his world, just like he was our world. We made sure to slow down, stop for a moment before touching him, let our hands be as respectful and loving as we were towards him. Slowly, with time, he became more aware of other things, our hands became one of the many connections with the world. He became more aware of other sensations, other senses. We still paid attention to being careful and respectful. But slowly, with time, I seem to have lost track of my hands. They became just hands - those tools for picking up, hugging, dressing, changing.

As I was thinking about those first few weeks of our parenting journey, I came across Katrina Kenisson's piece about touch. And I realised that I lost track of my hands, of the powerful message they are sending. That I lost track of the power of touch. I can really understand her, when she says: 'we are a hands-off culture, and to reach out in this way, human to human, hands to body, almost always means crossing some kind of barrier. We may feel free to talk about anything, but to lay our hands on another person is not something most of us do regularly or casually.' Though I come from a slightly different culture perhaps. I often hug my friends, kiss them. I like to touch the person I am talking to. I believe our bodies need the connection too, not just our minds.

So much recent research talks about the importance of touch for such physical things as development, growth and weight, but also for such emotional things as happiness and attachment. All people need to be held, hugged, kissed. But while we talk about touch and its importance when it comes to caring for infants, we sometimes forget that it is also about the quality of that touch. That our hands might be sending a powerful message. That it is different to be holding a baby while watching TV or reading a book, and to be holding a baby with fully attentive hands. Magda Gerber says we should 'unbusy our minds' when we are around children. I think we should also 'unbusy' our hands - from everything they are doing, everything they will be doing, those things they should be doing or that they have done. And just like trying to be fully there with our minds, giving children our undivided attention, maybe it's also worth fully giving them our hands when we touch them...

As I woke up this morning, I heard Antek waking up in his bed. Before I went to pick him up I stopped for a moment. I though about my hands, and remembered how Maureen Perry talked about touching babies, during our training. I thought of how I love Antek's little hands when he suddenly runs to hug me out of nowhere; how I love Pawel's strong touch when we walk holding hands; my Dad's hand on my hair when he talked to me; my Mum's hand on my forehead when I was sick; my Brother's strong hug. I shook my hands a bit to get rid of the sleepiness and leftover dreams.

When I finally got out of bed and went to pick up Antek, my mind and my hands were ready. Just like when I touched him for the first time. After all, every morning is a new beginning...

[Photo with thanks to Mary Sadowska]