To Hug or Not to Hug

As I’m sitting at the table writing this, my No. 5 boy is sitting here too, eating his Cheerios and telling me everything in his mind. He’s a talker, this one—he’s full of thoughts and questions and ideas, and he loves to share them with me all the time. I admit that I have often had to tell him to just hush for a while, but more recently I’ve been trying to bask in his attention because he’s almost completely stopped letting me touch him (hug, kiss, hold his hand, rub his back, tousle his hair, etc.). My older boys have gone through this, but only regarding public displays of affection, and not at such a young age. My No. 5 is only four years old, far too young in my mind to no longer need a good deal of loving. I’m a big believer in touch for the little ones—newborns fail to thrive and sometimes die without it, which is a powerful and telling truth. And I have a far better sense of what’s good for my boys than they do. For better and for worse, my style of parenting tends more towards ignoring my kids’ opinions of what they think is best for themselves. I’m sure you can all understand a bit of that, even if you parent differently than I do. When your child is sick and needs medicine, you must give them medicine, no matter how loudly or violently they protest (or spit it out or scream and kick or whatever). Likewise with holding hands in dangerous situations like crossing the street or in crowded, unfamiliar places. You’ll do what you need to do to make sure they get the medicine and safety they need. Hugging and touching the little ones is good and necessary and we’re wired that way—the smaller the child, the more snuggly and cuddly we find them, and the more they want to be snuggled and cuddled. It’s natural for a mom to love on her kids in a physical way, and for her kids to soak it up and give it back in their own way. So I’ve contemplated requiring him to let me hug him. I’ve explained that it’s an important thing for a mom to do, and that it makes me feel sad that he won’t let me take care of him in this way. It absolutely breaks my heart when he’s hurt himself or is upset for any reason and he refuses to let me scoop him up and hold him, like I would do and have done and continue to do for all my other boys, of all ages. If it didn’t seem to upset him so much—to really make him even more unhappy and stressed out—I probably would do so anyway. But then I worry about forcing myself on him. I worry about making him think that he must compromise the physical boundaries he’s comfortable with when an authority figure tells him to, or because someone tells him it makes them feel sad when he won’t give in. I can see how that might translate into some unhealthy ideas about physical relationships later on in his life. But then again, I’m his mom! And I think even he knows he needs and wants more than what he’s letting on, which I think has been proven by some recent occurrences. Once, his brother bit him and he was crying so hard he couldn’t breathe, and I took a chance and scooped him up and he put his head on my shoulder and his whole body relaxed right on me, the way little ones do, until he seemed to realize what was happening and his whole body stiffened and he wriggled to get free. Another time, I picked him up from school and he grabbed my hand unconsciously and held it the whole way out of the school, down the sidewalk, and across the street, before he realized what was happening and ripped his hand out of mine like he’d been scalded. One night he didn’t push me away or hide under the blankets while I smoothed his hair during bedtime prayers; one morning he let me kiss his cheek when I went to wake him up (I guess he was too sleepy to protest). Each time, I thanked God for the gift of that moment. I think I’d be more worried if I didn’t see him seek out hugs and cuddles from his dad and his grandfather and his uncle. Isn’t that weird? He shuns hugs from his mom (and his grandmother too, to a certain extent) but is delighted with them from the men in his life. Why? I don’t know, and I am glad he’s able to find some comfort from others who love him. But still. I know there are lots of times when motherhood can break your heart—I just never expected it in this way, at this age. I’m hoping it’s just a phase—so many times I’ve bordered on despair over a certain thing with my kids, only to have it change for the better overnight. Maybe a year from now I’ll read this and chuckle over how silly I was about it and how everything is better. Fingers crossed! In the meantime, I’ll relish the fact that he still wants to have unending conversations with me about anything and everything (even if it exhausts me to listen), and that my ten-year-old just came over and gave me a good long hug for no other reason than that he wanted a hug. Kate and her husband have six sons ages 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, and 2. She can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..