‘Can you tell me what makes love grow?’
So went one of the songs I learnt as a child (which goes to show that you can take the girl out of Catholic school but not Catholic school out of the girl). In relation to babies, numerous theorists - of both the academic and armchair kind - will tell you that the answer is early and strong mother-baby attachment, or ‘bonding’.
I remember when the word ‘bonding’ used to be tossed round semi-ironically: friends would talk about ‘bonding sessions’ when they got to know each other better (alcohol was usually involved) or you would ‘bond’ with someone over a shared experience: a night on the town that went wrong every which way; an arduous assignment that meant pulling an all-nighter; a road-trip. You might have even used it to talk about a moment when you really got on with members of your family: ‘my mum and I really bonded while we were planning our all-night road-trip’, for example.
But, when it comes to motherhood, bonding - like so much else - is deadly serious. So serious, in fact, that there is a whole literature devoted to it. Sociologist Mary Ann Kanieski argues that the development of a discourse of bonding, and its dissemination in the popular media, constitutes a disciplinary regime, which regulates the behavior of new mothers. And it not only regulates their behaviour, but can be definitive of motherhood itself (you can read her paper here).
Kanieski notes that while bonding and attachment can occur with any caregiver, of whichever gender, the research on attachment overwhelmingly relates to mothers. She also notes that the earliest attachment theorists, such as John Bowlby, began their research looking at the lack of attachment in institutionalised children. That means children in institutions who were otherwise physically well cared for, but were still exhibiting signs of what came to be known as attachment disorder: aggression, developmental delays and higher mortality rates than non-institutionalised children. Bowlby diagnosed a lack of love and affection (by whom was, of course, assumed).
What is interesting here is that the quality of actual parental bonding - or, indeed, parenting - was not in question. It was the lack of it altogether that was thought to be the problem. It was on Bowlby’s theoretical framework that a series of experiments were subsequently conducted by various researchers to test the quality of attachment between mothers (yep, just mothers) and their children. The adequacy of that attachment (and that was judged by the researchers, not the mothers or children themselves) was thought to demonstrate how well-adjusted a child would be. This is the moment when that mother-child bond started to come in for such close scrutiny.
Bonding, which is the attachment from parent to child (rather than the other way round) was developed as a theory in the mid-1970s, based on earlier attachment experiments and - wait for it - research on animals. Observation of chimpanzees, goats and rats - and how they reacted when, again, their offspring were taken away from them - formed the basis for the development of theories of human bonding. These theories worked their way into birth practices: natural birth, the importance of the first few minutes after birth in which you would gaze adoringly at your child, skin-to-skin contact and exclusive breastfeeding for the first six months and beyond. Not that these things are necessarily bad in and of themselves, I hasten to add, more that if they didn’t happen, it was thought that junior could grow up to be a serial killer. ‘Against animal testing’ suddenly takes on a whole new meaning.
Kanieski does point out that, academically, attachment and bonding theory has largely fallen from favour. This has not stopped it, however, from thriving as a popular discourse setting guidelines about ‘normal’ behaviour for new mothers.
From her analysis, Kanieski concludes:
Bonding discourse establishes normal mothering behavior. It demands a form of parenting that is woman-centric, and time-consuming. It requires that mothers engage in self-surveillance to avoid the risks of poorly attached infants. As a result, bonding discourse promotes a traditional understanding of femininity in a time of women’s greater participation in the paid work force. Most seriously, bonding discourse personalizes problems that are structural in nature. By focusing on the choices a mother makes, it ignores the larger structural context in which childrearing is performed.
The stakes, of course, are high: ‘unattached’ mothers who fail to‘bond’ adequately with their children can be blamed for all manner of social ills. That’s some pretty serious guilt-tripping to be placing on new mothers, who’ve just had their world turned upside down by giving birth. No wonder some women only guiltily confess to not feeling an immediate bond with their children.
I found Kanieski’s analysis of bonding and attachment particularly interesting, as I’m currently reading a potted history of motherhood. Again, even a cursory look at - in this case, Western European - history shows that norms of motherhood that prevail today are far from universal, timeless and natural. For example, wet nursing, particularly for middle and upper class children, was common in the early modern period. When mothers of even royal children struggled to find the nurse they wanted, it apparently didn’t occur to them that nursing their own children was an option. Children could be sent away to live with their nurses in some cases up until age seven with little to no contact with their parents. So much for bonding.
I guess it’s another one of the things that nobody tells you about birth and new motherhood: that you may not have a shiny happy talcum-powder moment with your new baby, the one where you can’t stop looking at them out of sheer delight. It may take a while to really feel that you love your child, and advice books these days seem to stress that if you don’t feel ‘bonded’ instantly that it’s okay. It’s about building the relationship with time, like any relationship, and, while that happens, taking care of your baby’s immediate needs.
In my case, I missed those apparently vital few moments, and my child had to wait a good nine hours before we even got to meet again. According to the most extreme attachment advocates, this means that we might have Lizzie Borden on our hands. In the first few weeks, while I was struggling with recovery, and learning how to breastfeed, I’m not sure I could’ve honestly said that I was crazy in love with my baby. I know I did feel an immense responsibility towards her, to keep her warm, and fed, and safe.
And those are the seeds from which love grew.
