by Elizabeth S. Bernstein
In 1885 Mary Terhune, a mother and published childcare adviser, ended her instructions on how to give baby a bath with this observation:
When perfectly dry, his flesh sweet and pure with the exquisite lustre imparted by bath and friction, he is the most kissable object in nature.1
A quarter century later, at the tail end of the Victorian era, another mother and author, Marion Foster Washburn, offered a similar assessment of infant massage:
Nothing on earth is so delicious to the touch as the firm, fine flesh of a healthy baby! In these strokings and kneadings, something of your mother-love and magnetism passes over into the baby, and you are more closely bound to each other. . . . Touch is especially the love-sense, and we, who cannot yet make little children understand the words, can tell them, through our hands, how dear they are to us and how tenderly we care for them.2
“Tenderness,” in English translation, is also the word Sigmund Freud regularly used to describe the relationship of parent and child. But in his case it was used primarily in the context of warning. The mother, he wrote in 1905, “supplies the child with feelings which arise from her own sexual life; she pats him, kisses him, and rocks him, plainly taking him as a substitute for a perfectly valid sexual object. . . . Excessive parental tenderness surely becomes harmful, because it ‘spoils’ the child and makes him unfit to renounce love temporarily, or to be satisfied with a smaller amount of love later in life. . . . [N]europathic parents, who usually display excessive tenderness, often awaken with their caressing a disposition for neurotic diseases.”3
How much tenderness was too much? Read more »