Letting Go and Saying No

Letting Go and Saying No
By Don Monroe

One of the most difficult tasks for a parent is learning to dwell with the tension that often exists between the desire to hang on to a child and the need to let go of that child.

My wife and I just delivered our fourth and youngest child to college. While his absence will leave a void, we look forward to visiting him and to his periodic visits home, and we know that a lot of parenting still remains. As a result of a series of separations that began at birth, both he and we are well prepared for this particular and dramatic separation.

Birth, in its physical and symbolic dimensions, is the start of letting go. It is also, however, the beginning of strong emotional attachment and the commencement of a powerful sense of responsibility for the welfare of a child, who, at least temporarily, is totally dependent on the parent. Changing an infant's diaper with one hand on the baby, while quickly looking away and reaching for a diaper or baby lotion evokes a memory of a baby's dependency and the need and wish for a parent to maintain constant physical contact. How dreadful for the phone or doorbell to ring when you couldn't leave your baby precariously perched on the changing table.

Mobility, through creeping or crawling, is a wonderful event. The need for physical touch is replaced by the need for visual contact. Remember the momentary start when one looks up from one's reading or phone conversation to discover the baby gone or unseen, off to the unexplored and unsupervised kitchen to discover the dog's dish? Soon, auditory supervision replaces visual supervision as one asks the question, "Are you in the dog's dish again, dear?" How welcome and how difficult is the day when the child moves beyond touch, out of one's vision, and beyond earshot.

We can all recount or imagine instances of letting go, such as the child's visiting grandparents, crossing the street, "sleeping over," going to school, and going to camp. Letting go can certainly be captured by the move from trikes to training wheels to ten speeds to the family car.

When my own children were driving and doing whatever happens between the "drive carefully and be home on time" launching and the children's timely, or untimely, attempt to re-enter the home's atmosphere, I walked around with a black crosspatch tatoo on my nose, permanently planted there by the pressure of my nose pressed for endless hours to the screen in our bedroom window. There, on my knees, with elbows resting on hard sills, serving as both disciplined sentry and a prayerful parent making bargains with the god of North Shore Saturday nights, I waited for the sound or sight of the family car By the time a young man or young woman is ready for college, a parent's ability to make healthy decisions about letting go and saying no and a parent's ability to live with the tension in between has been tested as often as a fleet of Volvos. And, with the need to help guide children through the temptations, dangers, and joys that lie between infancy and late adolescence, parents have said "no" more often that a tax adjuster.

Looking Back on Parenting

With my fourth child leaving, nostalgia drives me to some hindsight conclusions about parenting. They are:

Relinquishing power wisely fosters independence and autonomy for children.
An independent, autonomous adult is more likely to foster independence and autonomy in children.
Keeping a child dependent and controlled enhances a parent's sense of personal power.
When I was unable to let go, or when I said "no" too often, I was more likely driven by fear or issues of control than by a rational, well-based sense of what was right or wrong or what was in my child's best interests.
It is not desirable to raise children who will serve as a reflection of our own success and achievement or who represent exactly what we think is desirable. If this is our vision, it is often doomed to failure. Our children should not serve as a sample of what we are capable of doing.
The success of children on the North Shore is too often a high stakes venture. The investment of time, resources, and family esteem is high. It is possible that with even fewer children, the stakes could be even higher.
When children give so much definition and meaning to a parent's life and sense of self, the impending autonomy of a child can leave a parent feeling empty and without purpose or connection.

When we try to find comfort in the space between letting go and hanging on, we find we have resources available. When our own recollection of being parented is positive, memory is a wonderful resource to call on. If that memory is not available, parents can learn from other positive relationships and notice how those relationships are sustained and nurtured over time. If an adult was not parented well as a child, the first step is to realize it and then try not to repeat the same practice, perhaps by seeking positive examples of nurturance and supervision in other areas of their life.

Two Kinds of "No"

Saying "no" is difficult and can be offered in a variety of ways. There are, among others, two distinct types of "no." The most positive "no" is centered on a thoughtful core of values; is likely connected to readily understood family, moral, or cultural standards; and is full of common sense and care. This is a "no" that, while offered firmly, comes out of a sense of confidence and is purposefully directed to the long- and short-term best interest of the child. It is the kind of "no" that, when disobeyed, will permit the child to find the way back into the sense of family in which the rule or decision is grounded. This is a "no" that nurtures.

The second "no" is one that emanates from fear and that refuses to let go. It is a "no" that is often tied to control. This is often an irrational and emotional "no" that could be accompanied by anger or resentment. The anger and irrationality of this "no" can make it difficult for a child to comfortably re-enter after a rule's breach.

The circumstances that create the "no" that nurtures also create a greater potential for saying "yes." Permission is easier to grant when behavior and activity for the child are bounded and guided by rational, well-known, well-grounded, and well-modeled family and group values. The circumstances that generate an irrational and emotional "no" based on fear do not have as much capacity to generate the kind of "yes" that will allow the child to approach new experiences as a way of implementing and expanding well-known values and expectations.

Hindsight has caused me to have double vision when dealing with issues of hanging on and letting go. I need to view the child as the person he/she is right now and I need to visualize the adult that I hope the child will become. I hope my adult children will be confident, will have convictions, and will act on those convictions. I hope that they will be able to act alone. I hope that they will respect me as a parent with-out depending on me. And I hope, if they wish to have a family, that they will be good parents with positive memories to call on.

In letting go, we give up some power in order to foster independence. We know and hope, however, that our children will never be fully independent of us. The children, whose autonomy we now try to promote and nurture, from changing table to dorm room, will always look to parents for love, for support, for the celebration of important milestones, and for respect and approval. Like children, parents can never be replaced.