I remember holding her, so tiny, so delicate, so dependant upon me to give her everything: milk from my breast, freedom from the heat rash that plagued her in the first few days of her arrival in the tropics during the dog days of August, a quite secure nest in which to sleep for the two hour stretches her tiny tummy would allow before hunger brought her back to conscious complaint, cooling baths on a foam rubber cushion in a stainless tub, and the sound of my voice telling her in word and song how much she meant to us, to our happiness.

I was thirty-five and totally without experience in this whole new world of motherhood. I had never babysat; hardly ever held an infant. I'd had no burning desire for children until the biological clock (brunt of numerous jokes perhaps, but very real in my case) set off its alarm when I turned thirty. It took two more years for me to concede to its ticking, and another two years of trying before Lyric was conceived.

Living on a schooner in the Caribbean with no family nearby, I read books to answer my numerous questions. Spiritual Midwifery (of The Farm fame) was instrumental in my belief that every child is a fully-formed spirit and should be treated as an equal. In choosing to bring forth such a being, your soul has given promise to cherish and help this little body grow, learn, and flourish so that its soul can gain experience and share its knowledge with us. It does not mean we abdicate our responsibility to guide and PARENT our children.

Raising a baby was a hands-on experience for me. I wore her in a front-pack or held her in my arms much of the time. She slept in the family bed, and seldom cried. She smiled at strangers and would go to anyone who wanted to hold her. Her thumb was her comfort, which drove the West Indian mothers crazy. They believed in bottles and binkies. Being a boat baby, Lyric began swimming and climbing before she walked. Her toys were minimal - stuffed animals and cardboard boxes - as our home was also our livelihood. But Lyric could be entertained by the hour when we filled her bathtub with saltwater, sand and a conch playmate. After a few hours, she would accompany her dad and tub in the dinghy to the shore, where the conch would be released. She played with shells, learning the names of hundreds of them by the time she was four.

The ship's cats were also her playmates, and cuddled for naps. Barnacle Bill, the ship's parrot, would sing and talk and make her laugh, but she had a healthy respect for his beak. We read bedtime stories every night, and books were more plentiful than any other form of entertainment. After numerous readings, Lyric would repeat them word for word to us, knowing by the picture on the page what the text below said. Her memory was phenomenal.

She was such a good baby that I heard the constant warning of, "Wait until she hits the Terrible Twos." Two passed without any of the "No!" shouting matches that seem so common among that age group. Perhaps it was because our life was "childproof" to begin with, and she hadn't heard much of it herself. If we were in a position where conflict arose, such as being in a store and her begging for items or her acting up in a restaurant, I offered the choice of accepting a "No" or leaving. Understanding that I meant what I said, it never became a problem. Once she asked why I could pick up items in a gift shop and she was not allowed to do so. I told her it was because I could pay for it if I broke it and she couldn't.

Understanding the value of money is a difficult concept for a child, but if it is explained and their life is not one of excess, they get it. When Lyric wanted Nike shoes in junior high school, I told her I would give her what I would normally spend on tennis shoes, but she had to make up the difference with her savings or Christmas money. She was so proud of those shoes! Having to walk down a half-mile red dust gravel road from the school bus made her realize how difficult it was to keep them looking new. After a few months, her daily wiping with a wet paper towel ceased. When she spent the night with a girlfriend whose mother took it upon herself to throw the shoes in the washer, Lyric was devastated that her new shoes were torn in the process. I was very proud of her that she did not get angry, realizing the woman was trying to be helpful. Lyric also learned if you don't have a lot of money, putting all of it into something beyond your means can leave you with less in the long run. Her grandmother, a fashion plate of amazing talent, explained that having a large variety of cheaper items allows you more to work with in forming your style. Lyric learned how to look like a million on a working class budget. She understood the need for savings, and how to live within her means. By the time she left for college, we were able to turn over all of the money we'd saved for her education to her to manage herself.

Those teen years were as much of a joy in watching her grow as the idyllic boat years. We did things as a family, whether it was watching a video for entertainment (television programming is the worst child care substitution ever invented, in my opinion) or taking a walk in our woods. We read, laughed, ate together, went to Unity, band concerts and parent nights at the schools, and talked to each other constantly.

If there is one thing that I would stress as the most important parenting skill, it is really talking - Daily! All the time! - to each other. (Another reason I dislike TV is that its presence steals everyone's concentration and family interaction becomes sound bytes.) When Lyric told us what was happening in her life we didn't judge, we didn't condemn: we listened. We offered our opinion and our knowledge, knowing she had to make her own choices in life. If you give your children the opportunity to learn reasoning skills - instead of always telling them what to do - they develop a true sense of self instead of following what others say. We offered incentives for good behavior and grades. However, the choices she made were her own realization that she didn't need drugs, cigarettes, or alcohol to have fun or be a part of a group. All through college she stayed sober, being the designated driver and earning respect from her peers.

We've reached the chapter in life where Lyric is living alone, in her first studio apartment in D.C. and discovering who she is on her own. What an amazing journey it has been. She has been seeing the world, and now is in a job that will take her to Darfur to help mitigate the crisis there. She adores where she lives, her job, and her friends in the city. Her boyfriend (since college) lives twenty minutes away, and life is good. Weekly phone calls express her delight in all there is to do (much of it for free) in this new city.

I feel so blessed to know that she is making the choices she needs to make for her soul's growth. I feel so blessed to have offered this child life, and to have been a part of every step along her path. 

~ Gabrielle M. Thompson, 2007
© 2007 Gabrielle M. Thompson