When my best friend had her first baby she did many things right.
One, that I appreciate more every time I think about it, was to have a ready list of ways I could genuinely help her when I visited them at home for the first time after the birth.
As I stood on the first floor sorting gobs of gifted baby clothes into different sizes and containers I remember I heard the newborn crying.
For whatever reason a thought flew to mind to look up on my smart phone what tribal societies did with crying babies. It didn’t seem to make sense to me that babies would cry so much, frankly.
The articles I came across that night some eight years ago said that babies would be passed between as many as 20 adults in a day and that crying was nearly instantly responded to.
This plugged a forever thought into my brain -
There is no way kids passed between so many people could become so obsessed with pleasing just two of them (mom and dad).
It was immediately clear to me how much healthier having so many attachment figures and influences would be on a child. Which means, in contrast, it puts into perspective how weird and odd we get about trying to keep our own personal God-figures, to whom we owe life and the continuation of it, happy. Our neuroticism would plummet if we also had Uncle Bob and Aunt Genieveve and brother Matt and sister Stephanie all also taking care of us. Not to mention what that could do for the original God-figures, Mom and Dad.
I implore parents to invite at least one, if not twenty, other adults to partake in the genuine raising of your children.
Practically speaking, for those to whom this sounds impossible, maybe it could start with writing a very short story about a single scene of what that could look like if it were already true and then feeling into the vision you created. It could be paired with free-writing, if necessary, around all your fears and what would have to change in order for those fears to vanish.
I get home from work and enter the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Aunt Geneva putting away the groceries for the day. Cousin Bill is stirring a pot on the stove and dinner smells like one of his better ones. At least it’s not his chili again. My husband is playing with little Mary-Jane with some blocks on the floor, and our daughter is so engrossed that it takes a few beats for her to notice that I’m home. She looks so comfortable, and her smile radiates when she finally sees me.
What could it look like? How far could you lean in?
If you write about your fears could you also write a story about how you resolve them?
Write, read, and listen with me and a small group practicing the most desperately needed thing of all time - self-reflection (along with listening) at Listen Up, starting next Saturday. Make your words real and enjoy an audience that gives a shit about what you’re saying. They have to cuz I’m gonna make em. Just kidding. …
There are still spots left. Help me sell this out. Who do you know that needs a good listening, who would benefit from having people hold space and to have just over an hour for a few weeks to spend time listening to themselves?