- I was placed in foster care and found it hard to create close relationships.
- When I had my daughter, I knew I didn't want to use physical discipline because of my past.
As I browsed the crowded self-help aisle at Barnes & Noble, I looked down to find my two-year-old daughter, Kristil, on the ground kicking and screaming. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the stuffed animal I told her she couldn't have. Amid the commotion, my gaze met the eyes of a pregnant woman, her head shaking in disapproval. Waves of anxiety and self-doubt crashed over me.
As I struggled to pick my daughter up and carry her out of the store, I thought back to a comment a friend had made days earlier. "You need to spank Kristil when she has a tantrum," she had said. While I knew my friend meant well, thoughts of spanking frightened me. As a teen who was placed in foster care because of a violent upbringing, I didn't want physical discipline to be part of my parenting equation.
I was safe in foster care, but I didn't develop emotional bonds
Being put into foster care because of what I experienced gave me a deep understanding of how domestic violence affects children. While I was grateful for the sanctuary my foster home provided, it became evident that safety alone was not enough. My foster siblings and I struggled to create the emotional bonds that we desperately needed.
I remember my younger foster sibling, a seven-year-old boy who had already been placed in three different homes. Seeking affection and connection, he would often spend hours in my room, eager to talk and read books together. He was always asking for hugs. Although he was safe, he yearned for the warmth and companionship that he never found, either with his parents or in the system.
As a teenager, navigating this environment was also tough for me. It gave me shelter, but I lacked the close relationships I needed. The transient nature of foster care and lack of consistent emotional support made it difficult to establish the necessary connections for security and love.
I wanted to parent with intention and give my daughter a different childhood
While studying sociology and psychology in college, I deepened my understanding of the profound impact that violence and emotional neglect can have on children. Through my coursework and research, I discovered that being exposed to violence can lead to lasting psychological consequences such as aggression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Additionally, I learned that the absence of emotional support from caregivers can hinder a child's social and emotional development. This knowledge was reinforced during my five years as a counselor at a girls' group home. There, I witnessed firsthand the overwhelming truth of these findings.
When I discovered I was going to be a mother at 24, I vowed to provide my child with an upbringing different from my own. I promised to give her a safe childhood, filled with nurturing and love. Yet, as I found myself in the bookstore that day, confronted by my daughter's overwhelming emotions, I felt a sense of helplessness. I didn't want to resort to spanking, but I was unsure of what other option to choose.
Desperate for a solution, I reached out to my daughter's pediatrician, who recommended a book called "1-2-3 Magic" by Thomas W. Phelan, a registered clinical psychologist. I wasted no time in purchasing and reading the slim volume. The simple approach promised discipline without violence, focusing on a calm counting technique to manage behavior. Although it seemed too good to be true, I was open to trying it, and promptly started implementing the method.
It was surprisingly effective, but follow-through was key. Soon after introducing this disciplinary approach, I took Kristil to a local ice cream parlor for a summer treat. She suddenly had a meltdown on the way. Following the guidelines of the book, I counted slowly to three, each number a clear cue for Kristil to calm down. Despite my hopes, when she continued her outburst past the count of three, I knew it was crucial to follow through with the book's advice. I had to take decisive action — interrupt our trip and make a U-turn to return home. I wasn't happy about it, but this was a firm demonstration that I meant business without resorting to anger.
Once home, Kristil knew the routine: she needed to go to her bedroom and stay there for a set number of minutes as prescribed by the 1-2-3 Magic method. This period of quiet time was essential for her to reflect and calm down before she could come back and be with me again. By refraining from yelling and reacting, I regained control of my emotions, and it also gave Kristil space to process hers. Over time, I didn't need to make those U-turns as often because Kristil started regulating herself; she understood the consequences if I got to the number three. She had time to calm down, and I didn't have to yell to get her to do so. This approach transformed my parenting.
Despite the challenges I faced in my childhood and foster care, I am grateful for how they shaped my perspective on motherhood. As I navigated the joys and trials of raising Kristil, I remained committed to parenting without physical discipline. Adopting the 1-2-3 Magic approach was more than learning a new technique; it was about forging a bond with my daughter, rooted in mutual understanding and trust.
By using this method and focusing on calm, consistent discipline, I created a space where Kristil felt nurtured, even in moments of conflict. This nurturing, in turn, helped us to develop a close emotional bond. We learned to communicate and resolve issues in a way that strengthened our relationship, embodying the warmth and closeness that were absent in my own childhood. I learned that by approaching challenges with an open heart and a mindset geared toward growth, we can cultivate an environment of love, empathy, and respect.