Her words, of course, still went straight to my heart. Her tears invited some of mine to join them, and I felt their sad, healing warmth on my cheeks. My tears. Her tears. Intermingled, connected, soothing and mourning and hurt together — healing.
A part of me, of course, heard a tired old narrative play in the back of my mind about “You don’t get to talk to Mommy that way,” along with a chorus of “You hurt Mommy’s feelings.”
Fortunately, something stronger than myself reminded me that shaming her and making her feel smaller with those — lies, that’s what they are, just lies — those are not the ways to show her that my lap is still her safe place.
The truth is that she does get to talk to me that way.
She gets to be honest with me. She gets to be authentic with me and say how she’s really feeling in the moment. That moment. Tomorrow’s moments. All the moments.
Beneath them all, what she’s really asking is, “Do you still love me even when we struggle? Are we bigger than this?”
Just keep coming to my lap, baby. My lap is your safe place. You can say all the things and my job is to listen and love you through it.
She gets to be honest with me. She gets to be authentic with me and say how she’s really feeling in the moment. That moment. Tomorrow’s moments. All the moments.
I get to model for her that unconditional love means “I love you.” Period. Not just when you say or behave a certain way. My love is just here for you, like an endless source of water to quench your thirst; to give you relief and cleansing and hope. It’s reliable like the sky and the ground beneath our feet. It’s unchanging, at least as long as I breathe these words on this version of Earth.
The words that came out of my mouth were simple. “I love you. I’m here for you no matter what. Your anger is safe here. Your sadness is safe here. You are safe here.”
She handed me the book we’re reading together and sat rigidly on my lap while I started to read to her; our ever-present source of finding calm together.
She can read on her own by now, but somehow, my reading to her has been an ongoing source of connection, especially when things are hard.
I hope she’ll still have me read to her when I’m old and grey. As long as I can still find the words on the page, I will read them to her.
After awhile, her body relaxed a little. She started leaning into me — tentatively, but the love-gravity that pulls us close encircled us and drew us together. Soon, her head was on my shoulder. With her permission, my arms encircled her, too.
Hours later, in the dark of night, I lay with her on the upper bunk of her bunk bed, being aware of her small arms around me. Feeling her breath on my chest; feeling her soft blond hair in my hand as I gently stroked her head. She asked, again, why I hadn’t explained my boundary to her clearly enough so that it made sense to her.
We talked through it in detail, this time with more clarity for both of us.
After awhile, her body relaxed a little. She started leaning into me — tentatively, but the love-gravity that pulls us close encircled us and drew us together.
Leaning in and burying her face into me, she offered an olive branch. “Mama, you know earlier today when I said I didn’t like or love you? Do you know that I said those things only because I was very upset, and that I really do love you and like you? Very much, I do.”
I nuzzled my face into the sweet smell of her hair; into the essence of her goodness. I felt the same undeniable security that I’d felt underneath the hurt earlier. The knowledge that we’re going to be alright. The knowledge that we’re already alright, and always have been.
I replied to her, “Yes, baby, I know you do. That’s the great thing about us. No matter what, nothing can change our love for each other. Our love is always stronger than our problems. We’re good together. We always are.”
This, I know, is repair. This, I know, is healing. This, I know, is exactly what secure attachment looks like.
Originally published here.
Sarah R. Moore is the founder of Dandelion Seeds Positive Parenting, an author (first parenting book coming 2022), an armchair neuroscientist, and most importantly, a Mama. She’s a lifelong learner with training in child development, improv comedy, trauma recovery, and interpersonal neurobiology. She helps bring JOY, EASE, and CONNECTION back to families. Take her science-based and video mini-courses here, and follow her on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube and Pinterest.
