(Here comes another messy post. This is such a hard topic to wrap my head around, so bear with me.)
Her Bad Mother had a beautiful post about the intense physical love she feels for her daughter, and asked if others feel this way also.
I have two takes on this, from the position of a daughter and from the position of a mother.
My mother’s family is what you might call “cold” upon first meeting them. Everyone is very nice, very pleasant to talk to, but there is a noticeable lack of emotion. We can carry on intelligent, engaging conversations, but at the end of the day, little is said about love, about emotional bonds, or about caring for others in our family. “I love you” is never spoken, and hugs are not exchanged. Love is something that is just understood – it is not expressed. And emotions are considered, especially by my grandmother, as something to deal with and force down, and not something to wear on your sleeve for all to see.
Somehow, I did not get the same genetic make-up that everyone else had. My mother and her sisters are like this, my grandmother is like this, and yet I was not. I was gifted with the intense, passionate emotion from my father’s side of the family, a family of people who love and hate with a fire that is hard to extinguish (gotta love Irish passion). They hug, they kiss, they express their feelings openly and without fear of those feelings being dismissed.
But I was raised by my mother and her family, and so I often found myself conflicted. I wanted to be hugged, I wanted to be told I was loved, but I was raised with a hands-off approach. I watched other kids having warm, loving moments with their parents, wondering why my mother and I didn’t behave that way as well. I knew she loved me – at least, my logical side assumed she loved me since she did so much for me. But any physical affection and touch was lacking.
However, the nurture side of the equation came into play also, so that when anyone did hug me, I felt awkward and embarrassed. I felt like it should be OK, but it wasn’t done in my family, and so it was foreign to me. Add in being molested as a child by a high school boy, and you’ve got a confusing message about touching others in a loving way. When my teen years came along, I was a ticking bomb of emotion, sometimes going off loudly, other times withdrawn and quiet. My poor mother didn’t know what to do with me – I was practically screaming for her to hug me, touch me, or show me that she loved me in some way, but would then dismiss any attempts she made. The physical aspects of love were short-circuited between us.
Once I was in college, the raging hormones of puberty behind me, my mother and I reached common ground. She realized that she had always been distant, because that was the way she was raised. She confessed to me that she never wanted to be so cold, but didn’t know any other way, since it felt so unnatural to her to want to hug me, stroke my hair, or touch me in any way. My teen years made it clear to her that I was not like her or others in our family, and that I needed more, and now that I was an adult we were able to discuss it openly.
To this day she’s still only told me once that she loves me (when I was getting ready to board a plane to go to England for a summer), but she does routinely hug me goodbye each week, and she tries to be affectionate with Cordy as well. I know she’s trying, and I can only imagine how hard the struggle must be between her natural feelings of motherhood and her upbringing.
For me, the first moment I saw Cordy, I had every intention of smothering her in love. I wanted to hold her little body close to mine, kiss her tiny hands and feet, and make sure that she realized every single day how loved she is. I was ready to break with the tradition of being physically aloof from a child.
There was just one snag: Cordy seems to have picked up the family trait.
As much as it pains me to acknowledge, Cordelia was not and still is not a cuddly child. As a baby she enjoyed being held in a sling, but didn’t care much for being touched. Any attempts at a kiss were met with a turn of the head or resistance. Trying to snuggle her resulted in her making her body rigid and pushing away with a cry. She rarely fell asleep on my chest – she was much more interested in pushing her head up and looking around.
The thought of having a child I couldn’t cuddle made me sick with depression. It felt like a big, black hole in my core: here is this child that was grown inside of me, and is half of my biological make-up, and now this part of me is outside of my body, but I can’t love it the way I want to.
Somewhere around 16 months, though, she learned a new game. The “beeeeah” game, which is essentially the hugging game. She would walk back and forth to Aaron and I, collapsing into each of us and saying “beeeah” as she sort-of hugged us, and then walking to the other person and repeating it. I don’t think I could have been happier, even if she had spontaneously said”I love you, mommy.”
While she still doesn’t like to be kissed or hugged that much, when it is on her own terms she will allow it. And right now, I’ll take what I can get, while slowly pushing for a little more affection as time goes by. After all, this period of life goes by so quickly. It won’t be long before she’s a teenager full of hormones and emotion, and I’d like to lay the groundwork for our physical love now and get in all the hugs I can before she reaches the point where she is embarrassed of me.
I can really relate to your relationship with your family. Mine is the same way. Not a lot of physical or verbal reaffirmations of love. We knew we were loved, (or we should have known) because we had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. It has not been until the emergence of grandchildren that my parents have started expressing their love for us both physically and verbally.
My husband’s family are smotherers. They hug hello. Hug goodbye. Hug it’s time for dinner. It takes twenty minutes to leave a family function because everyone has to hug everyone else. My husband exchanges “I love yous” with his brothers over the phone. Much different than anything I am used to. It is still something with which I am coming to grips.
We are going with Dan’s style to raise our daughters. I am having fun learning it!
My family was very much like your mother’s with one exception – my sister, who is so exuberant that nobody can remain standoffish for long around her. Nevertheless, I recognized so much in this post, especially about your mom saying “I love you” before your trip to England. I spent the summer in England in high school, and my mother was a WRECK – she wasn’t there to say “I love you” because she was collapsed on those hard airport seats. Lots of intense emotion in my family, and very little open expression of it.
My husband’s family makes mine look like a touchy-feely lovenest, so we are conscious of trying hard to remain emotionally connected to out kids. It doesn’t always come naturally though.
I love that photo – whether she took a swing or not, that expression in those blue eyes is priceless.
I think what you’re doing is awesome. Meeting her where she is – she comes to you when she needs it and I think that’s the greatest thing.
My mom is hug/kiss but not overly so. My huz’s parents are like alligators – and it’s sad. My huz is very hands on with Q – but I think it’s easier when they are little – I hope it stays the same when she’s a big teenage brat 🙂
I’m going through this too–Cakes doesn’t like to be held much.
I’m hoping she’ll come around; in the meantime I just take what I can get.
Here’s another game we play that might work for you guys too – we sit at one end of the hallway and the girls race down the hall into our arms. Lots of hugs, lots of giggles, lots of exercise. Cordy seems like a really physical child, so perhaps a game like that would appeal to her.
My hub is not a hugger or kisser and Emmie hates kisses. We are just now getting her to kiss us. She’s more likely to kiss her lovie than me.
Keep up the hug therapy! I do it to my husband and it seems to be making inroads. 🙂
A hugging game – how perfect!
It may be a lifelong trait, but maybe not. Our friends’ little two-year-old suddenly went from being a non-touch kid to a total hug fanatic this summer.
My mother is the same way. I don’t remember ever being hugged by her. She hugs my daughter tons though. I’ll take what I can.
Thanks for the great post.
This hit home with me. My family was never huggy or anything like that and I am not a very physical toughy feely person as a result. Luckily I don’t think that my kids have it as bad as I do because they seem to like a lot of hugs and just simple touching. I am encouraging it because I wish I was that way too.
I wasn’t raised in a snuggly home either. However, my mom did tell us that she loved us, but she didn’t show it physically. I still don’t like hugs, except for from my girls. I’ll take a hug from my husband, only because I know he likes them…I just suffer through. But with my kids, I love on them all the time. I have a secret handshake and kiss pattern that SlowMo and I do…and to get theBeast to bed, I kiss her all over her face until she falls asleep. Maybe subconsciencely I give them soo much affection because I never got it??? Hm..
This was a great post!!
She realized that she had always been distant, because that was the way she was raised. She confessed to me that she never wanted to be so cold, but didn’t know any other way, since it felt so unnatural to her to want to hug me, stroke my hair, or touch me in any way.
You and I have such similar mothers. I completely understand what you’re describing. It is really so sad. I am just glad that I don’t feel that way towards my son and that you don’t feel that way towards Cordy. And remember, even if she’s not overly snuggly with you, she still will still need and appreciate all those snuggles on both a conscious and subconscious level. You are doing good by being so affectionate. Never stop.
That was so sad to read about your family! My family is one giant hugging, loving group. We can’t end a phone conversation without an I love you. I, in turn, hug everyone and I can see that it sometimes makes them uncomfortable. It’s just part of my makeup!
But as far as Cordy goes, don’t just brush it off as her getting your maternal genetics. She’s a kid. There are many kids who hate to be snuggled and kissed now, but they grow into very loving older children. As long as you are telling her you love her and attempting to physically show that, then she will know. She will not be the distant person that the rest of your family is. Just know that you are laying the groundwork and she will eventually come around!
I can totally relate to the “cold” family. That’s my mom and her side of the family. I didn’t pick up the trait and I’m so thankful. My kids are very loving wanting to be hugged and held all the time just like me.
I may have to write my post about this. I’ve been procrastinating, because I can’t find the right words, but I can understand what you are saying. I miss the cuddly days!
I spent hours upon hours rocking and cuddling my son. When his little sister was born, she was the complete opposite, a lot like your Cordy. There was no rocking to sleep. She only wanted to be put in her crib. Even if she woke up in the middle of the night (which was rare–also the exact opposite of her brother!), the best I could do was take her out to the porch swing, lay her across my knees, and barely hold onto her to get her settled down.
I, too, was very depressed. I thought that she didn’t like me, that something was wrong with me. There is hope, though. She is now the child that I have to scrape off of me. She is constantly in my face and in my space.
Hang in there. Maybe Cordy will come around just like Drama Queen.
I think it’s great that you have figured out the different aspects of your upbringing and have discussed them with your mom. That’s so huge. People are rarely self-aware and even more rarely able to discuss their issues with others.
My friend’s older daughter is like Cordy. She just wasn’t a cuddler. Her second child (another girl) seems to be a cuddler. Is it genetic? Interesting question. I’m glad your perseverance and patience has resulted in some “bear” hugs. That must feel good!
You’re doing the best thing possible, as Kristen, you’re meeting where she’s at and offering physical love from there. It’s the fact that you are always there, holding out that love, that is going to make all of the difference.
This was wonderfully honest. Not messy, never messy – except where messy is beautiful and raw.
HBM is right – that wasn’t messy at all. It was a wonderful poignant post.
My family is “cold” and hands-off and until my son I think in many ways so was I. But he his the opposite and that has changed me.
Cordelia couldn’t be cuter!!!