This Culture would rather medicate us

This is me, at roughly 12 months. When I look at it, I see a determined little human who knew exactly what she needed: closeness, safety, connection. But that wasn’t how my needs were seen at the time.

My mum often told the story of how I wouldn’t sleep for TWO years. Every night, she sat vigil next to my cot from Monday to Thursday, while my dad took over on weekends, holding my hand through the cot bars. If they dared to leave, I would wake up and cry instantly. 

By 12 months, I had started jumping out of the cot or banging my head against it whenever they left the room. To protect me, they covered the area with bedsheets and cushions. And this happened every single night—until, heavily pregnant with my sister and utterly exhausted, my mother was prescribed antidepressants.

She had been told, firmly, not to let me back into their room. That if she did, I’d never leave again (I wonder often how this ties in with my belief that I'm all alone and need to do everything by myself!)

You see, this culture would rather medicate us than let us sleep next to each other.

And yet, when I look at that little girl in the photo, I don’t see a child who needed fixing. I see a child whose needs were pathologised instead of understood. Which is what happens with so many parenting trends these days. 

How different things could be if we trusted that need for closeness and if we truly understood babies?