He is too attached to you. You are too attached to him. You respond to him too quickly. He has to learn that he can’t always have his mother. He has to learn to be independent. It is good for him to cry. He should sit in his chair. He should be quiet while we eat. He shouldn’t play with his food. He shouldn’t make a mess. He shouldn’t cry. You are too soft. You are coddling him. He needs to self soothe. The world is a hard place. He has to learn. You have to teach him. He has to sleep. You have to do something to make him sleep. You have to let him cry. He wouldn’t be so small if your body had been able to carry him to term. He wouldn’t be so small if he were eating more solids. He would be eating more solids if you weren’t still breastfeeding. He would be eating more solids if you had started with purees. He would be walking if you didn’t pick him up so much. He would be talking if you hadn’t taught him baby signs. Your parenting is the reason he hasn’t bonded as strongly to his father as to you. Your parenting is ruining your marriage. Your parenting is ruining your life.
It is what is in my heart that matters. I know. And yet the voices of others can be deafeningly loud, shouting down my heart and crowding out my voice. If I let them, these cacophonous voices are my edge to lean into, my soft spot to breathe into. Hearing them is my chance to be more open, more kind, more tenderhearted, more gentle. Sitting with them is my chance to remain steadfastly with myself.
You are parenting from the heart. He is securely attached to you. You are securely attached to him. He is growing and thriving. He is gentle and sweet. He is becoming independent and confident because of, not despite, your love.
This is my voice. H is my heart. This is what matters.