Raising the Best Possible Child: How to parent happy and successful kids from birth to seven

By Jo Jackson King

An original and knowledgeable take on child rearing, using cutting-edge research it will show you how you can be the best possible parent and rmake sure that your child becomes the best possible person they can be.
How to navigate parenting myths and bring up confident, happy kidsBeing a parent is the most important job in the world, and it's a daunting task. After all, as parents our role is to ensure our kids become the best people they can be - happy and resilient. But how do we do that? And who do we trust to give us the best advice?Like many other parents, with the birth of her children occupational therapist Jo Jackson King turned to parenting books for guidance, but she found the contradictory advice confusing. So in this ground-breaking but still approachable book, Jo offers her assessment of the three main branches of current early child development science, in a bid to find the best advice for parents. In Raising the Best Possible Child you will learn how to:• Ignore parenting myths and be guided by the most up-to-date information on all aspects of child-rearing, including childcare, breastfeeding, leaving to cry, sleep, nutrition, discipline, physical and mental milestones, and education• teach your children how to navigate their own and others' emotions, manage stress and stay focused - all key factors for becoming happy and successful adults• Be a confident, thoughtful and responsive parentthis book will show you how to encourage your children to make the most of their natural temperaments and endowments, so you can enjoy raising happy, emotionally savvy children who will become happy, successful adults.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jan 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9780730495871

Jo Jackson King

Jo Jackson King is the author of the award-winning and best-selling Station at Austin Downs. An occupational therapist, she works with remote communities in the outback. A gifted writer with extensive rural women's networks, Jo is a School of the Air mother and veteran of late-night talkfests between women where the conversation veers away from school and land care and becomes about love.  So when asked what angle she might take on a book about outback women she said: 'it is always love that keeps or pulls women into the outback towns and properties and those are the stories I want to tell'.

Book preview

With grateful thanks to my three sons:

Tim, who found references for me and dedicatedly read each draft through for errors of meaning at which he then laughed immoderately;

Sam, who generously let me write about him and also kept up a supply of comic relief for his serious mother;

and Rafael, who arrived just as I was embarking on the bulk of the research for this book and who happily snuggled and breastfed while I read and wrote in the very early hours of the morning.

Contents

Cover

About this book

Part One: The active ingredient

Chapter 1 Introducing attachment theory

Chapter 2 Organised and disorganised attachment

Chapter 3 Secure versus insecure attachment

Chapter 4 Changing an attachment pattern

Chapter 5 Barriers to attachment?

Part Two: The beginnings of self-regulation

Chapter 6 The beginnings of impulse control

Chapter 7 Building attention, concentration and perceptual skills

Chapter 8 Empathy and your baby’s sense of self

Chapter 9 Learning how to talk and think

Chapter 10 Breastfeeding

Chapter 11 Humans — the tallest trees

Part Three: Now add movement

Chapter 12 The importance of movement

Chapter 13 Learning to roll and grasp

Chapter 14 Sitting, crawling and walking

Part Four: How self-regulation skills keep growing

Chapter 15 How language and theory of mind grow together

Chapter 16 Impulse control — giving your child the power to choose

Chapter 17 Growing perceptual sensitivity

Chapter 18 Self-regulation and mood

Part Five: Ready for school

Chapter 19 When should formal learning start?

Chapter 20 Starting on formal learning

Chapter 21 Coping with the social side of school

Chapter 22 The other skills for school success

Index

Appendices

Appendix I: Troubleshooting development

Appendix II: Troubleshooting attachment

Appendix III: Troubleshooting active primitive reflexes

Appendix IV: Troubleshooting perceptual sensitivity

Appendix V: Troubleshooting reading

Appendix VI: Troubleshooting maths, writing and spelling

Endnotes

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Copyright

About this book

I’ve always been a great reader of parenting books.

I remember reading one book that argued forcefully for ‘positive parenting’. The central message was this: ‘If you only pay attention to positive behaviours in your children, they alone will be reinforced, and the behaviours you don’t like will steadily disappear.’

At the time I was in my early thirties with two little boys. I retold the message to my husband Martin and my mother — how exciting it would be to be able to drop the discipline and just focus on the good things!

‘In my experience, if you ignore children who are behaving badly they will scale up their behaviour until you do notice,’ advised my mother.

But I ignored her. Perhaps I had already internalised the message that I should only pay attention to what I wanted to see and hear?

We started our new parenting approach at breakfast the following day. Tim (four and a half years old) did not like to sit at the table to eat. In fact, he did not even really like to eat. He appeared at the doorway and slowly approached the breakfast table. Martin and I beamed at him approvingly. Tim reached the table only to promptly duck under it and drop to the floor beneath.

Instead of asking him to sit and eat, we steadfastly ignored him and talked of other things. One little hand shot up to the edge of the table, and then another. I thought for a moment that he had capitulated and was going to swing himself out and eat with us. But then the hands began a dialogue, with the right having a deep growly voice and the left squeaking plaintively. It was quite clearly the story of Dad telling Tim to eat, and Tim resisting.

I could see Martin was going to say something about this and so I reminded him in a whisper of the new rule. ‘We only notice good behaviour.’ He did not look particularly happy about it — but he nodded his agreement.

The dialogue presently stopped and I could hear scuffling sounds under the table. Luckily I am constructed so that I can talk ceaselessly and I was able to give an excellent impression of ignoring these intriguing noises. However Martin was not performing well in the supporting role, and my attention was eventually caught by the expression on his face. He is hard to read at the best of times, but at that precise moment his expression was so utterly impassive — so wooden — that he would not have been out of place in a shop window display.

I was to find out later that Tim had been biting his leg at the time.

But we finished our breakfast with me still in ignorance of this. Martin went to work and I continued on with my new parenting method.

One of the boys’ habits I particularly disliked was ‘play-wrestling’. Someone was always hurt. Later we instituted a rule that they could only wrestle with their father — which has stood the test of time — but on this particular day I adhered firmly to the rule of ignoring what I didn’t want to see.

While I hung out washing I could hear the stealthy sounds of Tim and Sam beginning to wrestle. About here is where I would normally have broken it up. Roll, roll, and thump of them together on the floor. And then, over in the other direction — roll, roll, thump. And then a howl.

I picked up my basket and walked swiftly past the combatants, now well separated and attempting to hide tears.

They did not wrestle again.

I seized upon this first bit of evidence that my new parenting approach was working with a delightful feeling of inner certainty. This was the way forward! But shortly after I could hear the steady sound of objects being thrown. Out on the veranda my sons were throwing Lego pieces at each other. I feverishly raced back to consult the book. This, it said, was normal. Wait them out. And, soothed by the writer’s utter certainty, I sat with a cup of tea and kept to my chair as each son simultaneously began crying. Right now, I told myself, they were learning that the consequence of throwing things is that someone gets hurt. I was forgetting that this had been experienced before and was showing no sign of leading to a change in behaviour.

It was time for morning tea — which we shared in perfect amity. There was no mention of the throwing by them and no mention of the toys everywhere by me. I ignored the widely spread Lego; as evidence of negative behaviour it was beneath my notice.

Later that day the boys were left to play together again on the veranda. And this time they played in contented silence. There was no play wrestling, no throwing. They were utterly engaged in whatever it was they were doing. I gratefully read some more of my parenting book. I marvelled that the author — a young male postgraduate student without children — had such a grasp on what worked with children and how extraordinarily easy his system was! Why was it not commonly used?

And with that thought I began to wonder just what it was that my children were doing on the veranda, so I decided to investigate.

They had taken four large bottles of poster paint and squeezed each out onto the vinyl floor. The colourful mass was then diluted with water and distributed widely. They had then invented a game of ‘flicking’. You dipped your paintbrush into the paint and water and then ‘flick’: you saw just how much red, purple, blue and green paint you could throw up onto the white walls and ceiling.

When your mother leaves you to play for more than an hour, that is a great deal of paint.

It is very odd, some seven years later, to be the one who is writing a book on parenting. In my defence, it was not my idea to write this book.

I became friends with the editor on my first book and, being the mother of two young children, she quickly got into the way of ‘picking my brain’ about child development. Not only am I an occupational therapist, but my mother is also, which between us gives me some 50 plus years of clinical experience to ratchet through, looking for answers.

To add to this, I am, tragically, more than a little like a hound. If I am asked a question I ‘take the scent’ and am off on the hunt straightaway.

I remember not having an answer for my sister-in-law Minnie’s question about one of her children who was briefly ill.

‘We have Health Direct in WA, Minnie. You just call 1800 …’ I said, giving her the number in full twice, and rather hopefully.

‘Oh, I have that too. I just call …’ and she rattled off a string of numbers.

‘I wonder why it is different to the one we call?’ I said.

‘Let me just repeat that for you,’ she said.

The number sounded somewhat familiar.

‘It’s yours,’ she said eventually, as it was evident I wasn’t going to make the connection.

And, sure enough, having spoken and read and nutted out the illness I was back to her in short order with a few ideas to deal with it. Once a question has been asked I’m programmed to return with a range of answers. ‘Even,’ my husband Martin has just added, ‘when a person doesn’t actually ask you to do it.

But my editor Jo Mackay did actually ask me. First of all she asked if there was a book with all the occupational therapy knowledge in for parents, and when I said, no, there wasn’t, as Mum and I had often looked for such a book, she asked if I could write one. And then she came up with the name — the one on the cover. I pointed out to her that her original concept had not come close to the scope of this one. This book goes a long way beyond occupational therapy. This would need to draw from a much wider pool of knowledge. But she was not to be roped into a discussion of how difficult the project would be. She changed the subject and said how she had been longing for a book that was not about turning your child into Einstein or getting them to read at two or having them sleep through the night at three minutes old …

So off I went to find out just how to help a child become her ‘best possible’ self. I went back to university and I read thousands of articles and books and I talked and talked with my mother on our morning walks.

Into this book I have put everything I could find about how children learn to learn, think, move, talk, read, make friends, concentrate, empathise and, above all else, recover from setbacks and become transformed by adversity into the person they want to be. It is also the story of my own journey through the research, and how it profoundly changed the way I parent my children.

But this is not just my journey — and when you read ‘I’ it is not just my voice or Mum’s voice you are hearing. We tend to interpret the saying ‘it takes a whole village to raise a child’ to mean that everyone needs to help a parent directly with their child. I think there is another interpretation that is just as valid. I believe it is equally about everyone contributing to a parent’s ‘thinking’ about each individual child.

Martin and I are surrounded by people — parents, grandparents, teachers, family members, colleagues — who will happily talk with us about the issues we face in rearing our sons and the issues they face with their own children. Parenting is a richer experience when this is happening and easier, too. When you have someone who will say, ‘Have you thought about …?’ then your decisions are going to be smarter ones.

The same village that helps me raise my children has shared the journey of writing this book. I hope you can hear their loving voices asking, ‘Have you thought about …?’ as you read.

What does ‘the best possible child’ mean?

When a baby is born she could grow into a range of different people. One of these is a person who that child will be happiest being, which is what every parent wants for their child, and that is the ‘best possible child’ of this book.

Even as we get older this is still the case — ahead of us is always a range of different selves. We know that a decision will take us closer to one potential self, and further from another.

But just what capacities does a child need to become the person — happy, resilient and wise — she wants to be? And just what do we need to do to help our child be that person?

Should we focus on ‘skills’?

I’m going to cover skills in detail in this book — talking, movement skills, reading, maths and writing skills and so on — because they are important, and, being an occupational therapist, this stuff is my bread and butter. But are they the deciding factor in life success? I know — and you probably do, too — skilled people who are still not making the success of life they could. So this, it seems to me, is the least likely answer to the question.

Should we focus on ‘good behaviour’?

Again, you will find this covered in the book in great detail, but is good behaviour the ‘make or break’ factor? You can perform well in a role, such as worker or student, but not delight in it — and not, at the end of the day, be happy. So it seemed to me that a main focus on having an obedient child was not going to achieve our desired outcome.

Should parents try to create ‘good motivation’?

This seemed to be far closer to the answer — and yet there are people who are highly motivated but who, in the end, are still not the person they want to be.

For me, none of these answers, alone or even together, were hitting the mark. And they weren’t hitting the mark because I’ve seen that for some children education (to improve skills), discipline (to improve behaviour) and opportunity (to improve motivation) don’t help. There was something that some children had and some children didn’t. What was it and how could I shape my parenting to ensure my children had it?

This question is increasingly a focus in the child development literature.

Like parents, researchers have been disturbed by the fact that today’s children are not performing as well as those in earlier generations. The change has been one that has happened during my lifetime — so in just the last forty years.

When I remember back to my classrooms in primary school and high school there was a very small percentage of children who were struggling. On graduating from university I expected that a classroom would have five to ten per cent of children who could benefit from occupational therapy. Ten years ago I had mentally ‘upped’ that number to between 10 and 15 per cent. And it has risen since.

The Australian Early Development Index, a best practice, whole population measure of child health, is now used to measure how well a community is supporting its children. And what does it show for Australia as a whole? It shows that about a quarter (23.4 per cent)of all children are deemed to be ‘at risk’ — socially, educationally and in terms of physical and mental health.¹ This is way, way too high.

So what have the researchers uncovered? What sort of parenting does put a child on track for her best possible self?

There are three main branches of early child development research. Each has come up with a very similar answer. Alas, each uses a different name for this concept and has a slightly different set of ‘what is included’, but the answers are hearteningly supportive of each other. And what they are all saying is this: What a child needs for success is to be able to manage stress, stay focused and navigate both her own and other people’s emotions.

In everyday language, we would use terms like ‘emotionally savvy’ or ‘wise’ or ‘self and people smart’ to describe these abilities. In the literature they talk of ‘effortful control’ and ‘emotional self-regulation’ and ‘executive function’. I’m going to use ‘self-regulation’ as I’m increasingly seeing the term appear in other writing for parents.

Each set of research is important in understanding how self-regulation develops and just why it is so valuable.

Attachment theory connects self-regulation to a particular type of relationship between parent and child, and believes that the main benefit of self-regulation skills further down the track is that they allow a child to create meaningful and enjoyable intimate relationships.

The neuroscience shows these skills grow as a result of the physical and emotional connection (brain to brain, heart to heart) between mother and child. Researchers would point to good health and good brain development as key results.

Another perspective comes in the temperament research literature, and to my astonishment this has been the most useful research of all. Previously I had held a grudge against the temperament theorists. I was astounded when my dear little Tim, my elder son, began behaving badly. His hand would inch ostentatiously towards an object he knew was forbidden — a power-board or toilet brush — while his eyes were defiantly fixed upon mine. I began to look for answers.

The first set of parenting information I encountered was based in the temperament literature. I dutifully filled in the checklist and was horrified to be told that he was ‘anti-authoritarian’ and at high risk of developing a conduct disorder. Sometimes what you read as a parent can be destructive and this certainly, though temporarily, was.

What I’d failed to realise is that behaviour, like everything else, follows a pattern of development. Tim had recently turned two. He had hit that stage of systematically defying me just to see what the consequences would be.

But this new temperament research was quite different from what I’d encountered years earlier. It dives right into questions such as ‘Which sort of kids find it easiest to develop self-regulation skills?’ ‘Fearful or fearless?’ ‘Intense or laid back?’ And the researchers also go on to ask, ‘How should parents respond to different temperaments to create a child with good self-regulation skills?’

The temperament theorists have a different take on why self-regulation is important. Their research shows it leads straight to a child who develops a working set of socially appropriate internal rules. Without this set of rules children are more likely to grow up to abuse drugs, to be aggressive towards others and to generally behave in ways that deny them an easy life.²

And from there the research travels to exactly the destination I was looking for: a breakdown of the factors that lead directly to self-regulation.

So what are the qualities required for self-regulation?

Imagine you are learning to fly a small aircraft. First of all you are trying to learn how to monitor your plane for the slightest hint of something going wrong. This ability to be aware of subtle changes, to detect a new note in the engine, or an unexpected drop or increase in speed requires that your perceptual sensitivity is calibrated accurately to the outside world. The person who is not very sensitive will be at risk here, but so too is the oversensitive person. They will have difficulty screening out some signs to focus on the ones that really count.

Those perceptions help us know what to attend to, but we also need the separate ability to be able to shift attention to the right part of a task. We are not born able to do this, and, as adults, we only remember how difficult this is when we are immersed in new learning — for example, following the instruction ‘look at the blinking light’, you have to shift your attention to the blinking light on display. You must look just at this light and not any of the other fascinating gauges and lights, and then go back to your previous focus of attention.

The ability over time to keep directing your thinking between internal knowledge and the external situation while keeping in mind what you are trying to achieve is called concentration. You need that too.

You also need to be able to prevent habits, urges or emotions from interfering with your goals. This is called impulse control. If you hop back into your imaginary aircraft … you discover that you don’t just ‘learn’ how to fly, but that you also need to ‘turn off’ all the habits you have developed in driving a car. It is your feet that turn the plane to the left or to the right, rather than your hands. So as well as remembering to use your feet, you will have to suppress the habit of using your hands to do the job. Impulse control is the ability to stop yourself doing something.

Impulse control is fed by two other important skills: empathy, which is the ability to know how someone else is feeling, and something called theory of mind, which is the ability to predict what somebody else knows.

Both of these allow us to ‘mind-read’ other people to a sufficient degree to negotiate relationships — or a runway on which a number of small planes are landing.

Together these self-regulation tools — perceptual sensitivity, shifting attention, concentration, impulse control, empathy and theory of mind — create a human control system so flexible and powerful that with them in place your child will be able to become her ‘best possible self’, regardless of temperament.

Fortunately each one of these skills is something that you do shape with your parenting, and you shape them particularly by how you relate to your child. Just how that happens is the story of this book.

Part One:

The active ingredient

The active ingredient in child development is the quality of the relationships that children have with the important people in their lives. That’s what it’s all about.

Dr Jack Shonkoff, frequently described as the world’s leading authority on child development.¹

Chapter 1

Introducing attachment theory

He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.

Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit, 1922.²

This part of the book is about you rather than your child. For me, this information has been more powerful than anything else I’ve found in the research literature on parenting.

If it is the relationship our babies have with us that contributes most to their self-regulation skills and creates that ‘best possible’ self — and we know that it is — then what do we bring to that relationship? How do our lives, thoughts and emotions shape the relationship between us and our children?

These are the questions that attachment theory asks and seeks to answer.

The study of love

Researchers of attachment theory study all the different patterns that exist in intimate relationships and how those patterns, in turn, shape us. They study romantic relationships, parent-child relationships and other very close relationships and describe these powerful and intimate reciprocal relationships as ‘attachments’, or ‘attachment relationships’. After studying millions of attachment relationships the researchers are able to see patterns into which these relationships fall.

They begin with looking at very little babies. All the things babies do — cry, smile, nestle, gaze — are designed to communicate to their parents their deep need to be kept as close as possible in order to feel safe and loved.

When a baby cries, that is an ‘attachment behaviour’. When a parent has a pattern of responding to that cry, the baby knows that he is safe. But when a parent has a pattern of responding differently, such as not coming, or coming inconsistently, then the baby knows that his survival may be on the line. It is at this point that a baby knows he must either increase or change the signal to get help.

You can see that the way in which the parent responds to their baby will create the pattern that the child must match in order to ensure his survival.

If you are a new parent of a little baby you may hear the advice, ‘That’s no way to stop him crying, you’re just rewarding him by picking him up’. And the advice sounds convincing, but not if you are using the attachment perspective and empathising with your baby.

What you can say is, ‘Let’s look at this from the baby’s perspective. He can’t meet his own needs and needs me to do things for him. Even if I don’t pick him up, he is still going to be needing me. So to get my attention he’s going to have to get more and more upset, and eventually I will pick him up.

‘So if I don’t pick him up I’m training him to get very upset immediately because nothing else works to get my attention. If he can’t trust me to fulfil his needs, then he’ll stick close to me because he won’t trust me when I’m out of his sight. That means he’ll explore less and won’t develop so many skills. And my baby will turn into a whingeing, clingy preschooler.

‘Or perhaps I could follow your advice and not pick him up at all when he cries. How would that turn out? Looking at it from my baby’s perspective, he still needs me but obviously, his cries disturb me so much that I can’t respond. To make me feel safe he’ll have to pretend that he has no emotional needs. He’ll learn to switch them off. And then he won’t be able to recognise them in other people either. My baby will turn into a preschooler who won’t have the empathic skills needed to make friends.

‘But if I do pick him up, he learns that empathy is seeing how someone feels and valuing that in your actions. He’ll know that I’m always going to be there to meet his needs and he will soon discover that it isn’t necessary to get upset and cry to get his needs met. So, eventually, when he wants me, he’ll just call out once and wait. Because he trusts me he’ll turn into a happy little explorer because he knows Mum will be there watching and protecting. He will develop lots of the skills needed for independence. And my baby will grow into an independent, sociable and cheerful preschooler.’

(You will notice that I haven’t suggested a snappy rejoinder. I am simply no good at these.)

Parents also often hear statements like ‘there is no such thing as a naughty child’ and ‘just ignore undesirable behaviours’. Again, attachment theory provides a child’s perspective on this kind of parenting practice — because the other great finding of attachment theory is that children need to feel safe, and that part of making them feel safe is having clear, enforced rules for behaviour. The great flaw in the parenting strategy of ‘only noticing positive behaviours’ — the one I describe in ‘About this book’ — is that it makes children feel less safe.

Attachment theory makes explicit something that we intuitively know: our children respond to our emotional patterns. Rather than offering ‘strategies’ for parenting, it offers us the chance to look at our emotions, how those emotions affect the way we respond to our children, and how that in turn shapes our children’s characters.

This is contrary to what I was taught while studying at university. At that time researchers believed that the active, the magic, ingredient for child development was ‘stimulation’.

‘Is your baby getting enough stimulation?’ was the question you were likely to be asked by the health professionals. But it was the wrong question.

We were doing all the right things with our babies by playing, touching, kissing, holding, singing to, talking to and cuddling them, but the most important thing in doing all this was not stimulation. It was the fact that this playful interaction built the knowledge that mother and child had of each other and strengthened the emotional connection — the attachment — between them.

Why ‘attachment’ is the real active ingredient

The most powerful forces in a child’s development are his emotional states. These states are so powerful because emotion is the language the brain/body speaks to itself. The message is carried in chemicals — neurotransmitters, hormones — but the messages carried are emotional ones: fear, longing, discomfort, pain, sadness, despair, excitement, curiosity, exhilaration, confusion … All of these different emotions drive or hinder brain/body growth throughout our lives. Will your child’s main emotion be a feeling of love? Then it is oxytocin, the love and learning hormone that causes brain cells to grow and interconnect, that will prevail. Or will his main emotion be fear? Then it is cortisol and the catecholamines, the stress hormones that, in sufficient quantities, destroy neural connections, that will dominate.

And what creates these emotional states in a child? A child’s emotional states are mostly (but not totally, because temperament is a factor) created by the quality of his relationship with you. It is the way you respond, the pattern of your response to him, that creates the feelings he has.

If a distressed baby is immediately comforted, he will spend less time in that distressed state. If he turns to share something with you, and you respond with delight straightaway, his happy feeling is going to be strengthened. The phrase in the literature on attachment theory and the interlinked neuroscience is, ‘states become traits’ — in other words, the feelings a baby has more of now are going to shape his character down the track. The skills of self-regulation start in infancy but there is no aspect of development untouched by this. Not even movement or thinking or language skills, even though they seem so far removed from the ambit of emotion.

You will perhaps be wondering why I haven’t written ‘love’ here — why, in fact, love is not the magic ingredient. It would be a much nicer sentiment!

All parents love their babies and children. But it is how we respond to them that is the way our love is expressed, and there are ways of responding that are not going to help a child to that best possible self. No matter how much we love our children, it is how that love is expressed that counts.

To give a personal example, when my children have been distressed I have always responded immediately. My babies and toddlers and even preschoolers have all been the sort who ‘didn’t need to cry’, so rapidly do I respond. Except for this: once my children were five years old or older I no longer could bear it when they ‘gave way to despair’. My behaviour when faced with a despairing child could not have been less supportive. While I was comfortable with them expressing every other negative emotion — extreme anger, great sorrow — I found it deeply bothersome and did about all I could to outlaw ‘despairing crying’.

By trying to outlaw ‘despair’ I was still expressing my love and concern for them but not in a way that was going to help them. Working through just why I did this has been, as the Velveteen Rabbit suggests of becoming Real, uncomfortable and a bit sad. Nonetheless, it has been a very important part of ‘becoming’ a parent for me, and you might like to keep my ‘out-of-character’ behaviour in mind as you read through this part of the book. The other thing that I would like you to bear in mind is that a relationship can be repaired at any time, with changes in brain and body to match.

The importance of your own attachment relationships

There have been a number of studies where pregnant women were asked about their own childhoods. Interestingly, each study showed the same thing. Researchers have found that by listening to the story of a woman’s childhood, her relationship with her parents and other attachment relationships, they can predict how securely her child will attach to her.³, ⁴

Many of my friends have freaked out when they read this. People immediately jump to the conclusion that I’m saying the research suggests that if they had a difficult childhood then they will struggle to parent. That’s not it at all. Some of the very best parents I know had very unpleasant childhoods themselves, childhoods on which they have reflected and come to terms with and used to build a very different kind of childhood for their own children.

The key word is ‘reflection’: the ability to find meaning and use for past experiences, whether for good or bad. If we can tell the story of our own relationships and childhood in a way that hangs together and pulls meaning from all that has happened to us, then we are going to be able to parent well. This has been known for many years, but, until recently, no-one was able to explain why. In the last few years, however, researchers think they have worked it out.⁵, ⁶

Being able to tell a coherent life story shows that you have moved on from your past. You are not trapped by circular thoughts of ‘if only’ and ‘what if’. You haven’t avoided thinking about the parts that hurt you, you’ve reflected on it all and come to terms with it and moved on. This lets you become a parent who is free to be in the here-and-now with your babies and children.³, ⁹, ¹⁰

But being able to ‘live in the present’ with your child is only one-half of the story. The other significant factor is that telling your life story, complete with ups and downs, shows that you are comfortable with a range of emotions.

The parent who has not turned away from experiencing life’s pain is a parent who can cope with an unhappy child. This is important as a parent, and never more so than when you are dealing with a newborn. If we imagine an ‘emotional compass’, babies initially tend to have that needle in the sad end of the spectrum. They don’t know how to get their needs met, they are helpless to meet those needs themselves, it’s a strange new world out of the womb — and so they often feel sad and needy and fearful to begin with. But a baby who is lonely or frightened or sad is a baby you can relate to. You’ve had those emotions and you came out the other side, so you know that, with your help, your child will too.⁹, ¹⁰

A parent who is mostly living in the present moment and mostly coping with the full spectrum of emotions in themselves and their children fits into an attachment pattern called ‘free’ or ‘autonomous’.

At the generational crossroads

This is a fictional story that someone who has worked through their childhood issues might tell.

‘My mother was very young. There was a lot she missed out on, having me. So it was a resentful relationship: she resented having me and I resented her having me when she hadn’t really been ready But I got over it as a teenager. I always had my head in a book, and I encountered someone just like her in one of those sprawling family sagas. You met the controlling grandmother and then her children and then their children in turn, and you could just see it all, travelling down the generations. That was what the book was about. So I was able to see the situation from the outside, and that actually helped a bit because I stopped asking for what she couldn’t give and so she resented me less.

‘But before that, I remember coming home with my first school award and she just wasn’t interested. She just said, Oh yes. And at this point the next-door neighbour came in and Mum immediately began to play the proud parent. It was something she did and it obviously made her feel better about her life, but it always made me feel worse. I wasn’t worth the bother, but other people were. But she just wasn’t ready for a child — she hadn’t been herself first. The role of mother was something that she played on the outside for society, but often she would confide in me or friends she trusted that she still always dreamed about what she’d have done if she hadn’t got pregnant so young.

‘But after meeting her in that book I was able to think, You poor sausage, you never got over it, and Well, that won’t be me, I’m going to get over it, I’m not going to stay stuck in the past. And there were other people who were interested in me and took the trouble to get to know me and I learned a lot from them.

‘Mrs Simon, one of my high school teachers, was the main person. She was a very warm person, and back in those days teachers could give hugs, and although I was a very reserved girl she would always hug me. She was a big squashy lady, and she always smelt like oranges and wore bright friendly colours. She always joked about keeping the books up to me, and spent time talking to me about them. I came to terms with my Mum with her help. If Mum was late picking me up she would take me home with her own children who were all younger, and I would sit in her untidy small kitchen and we’d have cheese on toast and warm chocolate and then play cards. And I deliberately set about learning to be a parent from her, even though I was only thirteen. And she knew that, because she really knew me. My eldest son is named Simon after her.

‘Mum hasn’t changed. She loves me, but she is too caught up in her own life to be interested in mine. And I accept that because I’m not one of those people who keep trying to go back and change someone. I’m one of those people who seek out and celebrate the good relationships I can have instead.’

This woman, with her strong emphasis on the value of attachment relationships, would have children who were securely attached to her. The message from the attachment literature is that having had a ‘good childhood’ or ‘good parents’ isn’t a prerequisite. What is required is that you’ve worked it all through.

But not everyone is free to parent. Some people are emotionally preoccupied, still working through the wounds left by their own childhoods. Some people seem to have blanked out