The blame game

It's hard not to take it all personally. Being a mom, I mean. It's hard not to immediately blame myself for anything slightly imperfect about my daughter.

Our neighbor's younger child is struggling with language; the little girl does not have the vocabulary (in terms of quantity of words) that her older brother had when he was her age. Our neighbor's reaction? She blames herself. She fears that she is busier with her second child and isn't talking to her as much as she talked to her first child. The mom thinks that if she could put more energy into her daughter then the child would talk more. But each child is different and there are a dozen other reasons why our neighbor's daughter would develop differently than her older brother. And yet, the mother blames herself.

So, when Belle came home from the hospital after being born and she had an eye infection, I asked our pediatrician, while she was writing Belle's prescription for eye medicine, if I could have infected Belle's eye accidentally. Though the doctor assured me it wasn't my fault, I still wondered what I could have done differently to have prevented the minor infection. And when Belle developed a small bought of diaper rash, I assumed it was something I had done that made her adorable little tuschy so red. Yes, she developed the rash after our trip to Florida when 1)the weather was different 2)she used different wipes and butt cream for the first time and 3)she started sleeping for longer stretches and therefore not getting her diaper changed while she was sleeping. But, still, I should have done something to prevent the diaper rash. Then I endured a painful breast infection in early January. Besides the great discomfort I experienced, I found a drastic drop in my milk supply which resulted in a small weight-loss for Belle (wait, I should be losing weight and not Belle!). How could I not blame myself for this? I inadvertently put my poor, tiny, helpless yet adorable baby girl on a diet at age four-months. When the pain subsided such that I no longer cred through nursing, I cried thinking about Belle's frustration in not getting enough food from me. I just felt terrible.

I am around teenagers enough to know that we moms don't have to blame ourselves: as our children grow they are quick to place the blame us themselves. But cranky teens aren't the only ones who accuse moms of being the weight holding children down. Experts used to attribute certain mental disorders in young people to their mothers' shortcomings. The term 'refrigerator mother' emerged to describe mothers whose coldness, lack of affection, or indifference towards their babies resulted in children, adolescents, or young adults with challenges, such as autism. Bruno Bettelheim was especially adamant that a mother's attitude toward and treatment of her infant greatly influenced his development. These well-published, well-respected development theorists explained mental deficiencies by blaming the mothers. These theories have been disproved and refuted, but perhaps they lay the groundwork for mothers to blame themselves for their children troubles.

So, I know this, and I know that it is totally a waste of energy to bother blaming myself for all of Belle's (thankfully minor) troubles. But, still. This is just one of the many reasons why it's hard to be a woman in this world.