PLEASURES…

Poems and Reflection by Deborah Weatherston

Deborah Weatherston.jpeg

Deborah Weatherston, PhD, Infant Mental Health Specialist and Mentor; Retired, Executive Director, Alliance for the Advancement of Infant Mental Health. Dr. Weatherston received her Ph.D. in Education, Sociology, and Psychology from Wayne State University. Her post-graduate work includes a Graduate Certificate in Infant Mental Health. She is a licensed social worker and holds an Infant Mental Health Mentor endorsement. Dr. Weatherston co-founded the Interdisciplinary Graduate Certificate Program in Infant Mental Health at the Merrill Palmer Institute (now Merrill Palmer Skillman Institute) in 1988 and served as its Director until 2004. She helped to develop the MI-AIMH Competency Guidelines©) and the Endorsement for Culturally Sensitive Relationship Focused Practice Promoting Infant Mental Health.

I offer these poems in celebration of reflective practice, the gift that came to me as I sat with families in their homes as an infant mental health home visitor and then afterward, in the office of my reflective supervisor.  Reflection, such a powerful component of our work with babies and those caring for them.  Aptly named, for surely we see ourselves reflected in the face of the baby or the parent caring for the baby as we share our thoughts and feelings with someone trusted to hold them. 

My journey as an infant mental health home visitor took me on adventures, unanticipated, some pleasant and others, not so.    The memories came slowly, bits and pieces at a time, or in a rush, all at once, the blue of the eyes, the rosiness of the cheeks, the way the baby’s fingers grasped that of the mother, the tears that fell.  Past awakened in the present by the baby’s longings for care and stories told.  My past, my present, other babies, other families.   Each home visiting experience offered an opportunity – quite unexpected – to remember someone or something, a joyous moment, a birthday or a painful loss, longing, grief.  Unannounced, these memories tumbled out with force in the quiet of a supervisory hour.   

The written word following reflective supervision offered me comfort, sometimes bringing new understanding of the intertwining of personal and professional in this work with babies and allowed me to return, knock on a family’s door and begin the journey again. 

PLEASURES… Written on Mother’s Day

By Deborah Weatherston

there are first smiles

there are first games – patty cake and peek-a-boo

there are the pleasures of parents who can hold their children

            comfortably on their laps

 

there is the delight of an infant’s first tooth

there is the adventure of an infant’s first step

there are lovely stories of

            grandmother’s care,

            trips to the country,

            holidays past,

            celebrations on Mother’s Day

 

there are first birthday cakes and presents

there are family albums, collections of people,

            past and present

there are stories of aunts and uncles

            families

 

there are longings for attachment and wishes that

            life might be less lonely

there are cries for comfort

there are lullabies and blankets

            fingers curled around a mother’s hand

there are gestures of affection

            expressions of joy

I startle

how often have I, in moments of pleasure

            remembered other babies

            cheeks like roses

            skin as soft as kitten’s fur

            smocked dresses

            round faces

            smiles and games

            grandmother’s care

            first birthdays

            longings for attachment

            lullabies and blankets

            fingers wrapped around my hand

            affection

whose babies?   whose pleasures?

            whose nursery?

I smile

how often have I in the intimacy

            of other homes

            remembered

pleasures

attachments.

Ways of Knowing

By Deborah Weatherston

Enter my world

Slowly

Smell the flowers in the vase

Sit beside me in the quiet of my room

Breathe deeply

Still your heart

Let your tears fall slowly down your cheek

Dream your dreams

Listen as the music fills the room

Enter my world

Slowly

I’d Rather Not

By Deborah Weatherston

Endings

I’d rather not

 

Far better to fill my

Head

My heart with

 

Beginnings

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