Taking Care of the Baby

In the midst of my anxiety over Miss Brown and Juniper’s school placement, I dreamed of a baby. Many other figures and symbols also occurred in this dream, but the essential message of my dream was that the baby needed to be cared for.

As a companion to Kerenyi’s paper, “The Primordial Child in Primordial Times,” Jung wrote a study called “The Psychology of the Child Archetype.” Both theorists viewed the infant or child as a significant motif in mythology and in dreams and other manifestations of the unconscious. The child symbol may appear in a variety of forms, such as an elf, dwarf, infant, pearl, flower, chalice, or golden egg. He may have dark skin, brown or golden skin, or appear among stars or with some other fantastic symbol. He may represent what is forgotten in us, and indicate that we are growing ever nearer to the truth in our journey; he also represents futurity and potentiality, even if at first blush he seems to be retrospective.

“The child,” Jung wrote, “paves the way for a future change of personality” (164). When the child appears alongside other symbols or archetypes, such as animals, the Mother, the Father, etc., it may indicate that a union or cooperation of unconscious elements in the psyche is required for further progress. It could also indicate, on the other hand, that one part of the psyche is in danger of overpowering emerging and essential contents.

In my dream, a dog and a baby appeared equally balanced in the arms of a mother. The dog appearing alongside a human infant is an interesting image. The dog is an animal with limited potential that lives by instinct, whereas the human infant has god-like potentialities. Together, they suggest that something happening in the dreamer’s life threatens the dreamer’s potentiality. The dream may be warning me of the possibility that I could err, consciously, in favor of instinct or survival, when the answer to my current problem may require putting the dog where it belongs and taking care of the baby.

Last Friday morning, I met with the principal at Juniper’s school. The principal was experiencing significant personal crisis at the time, and the compassion I felt for her led me to give her the option of hearing all the details from me, or of taking at face value the summary given her by the vice-principal before making her decision about transferring Juniper out of Miss Brown’s class. The principal wanted only a synopsis, and said she would talk with the other fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Kelly, about the transfer. Several hours later, she called to let me know that Juniper would be moved, but that I would have to meet with Mrs. Kelly beforehand and be told her classroom rules and procedures.

After arranging a meeting with Mrs. Kelly for this afternoon, I began to wonder why I was the one jumping through hoops to have my daughter transferred, when Miss Brown had behaved badly in spite of her professional responsibilities. It felt like I was being punished, or Juniper and I together were being punished, in spite of the fact that Miss Brown carried a hefty weight of responsibility, too. What sort of a consequence was Miss Brown experiencing, if any?

But I dismissed those particular feelings and questions, in favor of my feelings of gratitude: Juniper would be allowed to change classes. I would not have to withdraw her from school and enroll her in another school, or home school her. Like a dog grateful for any scrap from the table, I was wagging my tail and drooling because Authority had given me what I needed. My self that needs time this year—time to write, read, research and ponder—would survive because I did not have to home school. And so, I went to tail-wagging and took what was offered me. My inner dog was satisfied.

The next night I dreamed the dream of the dog and the baby. The story and the other elements in the dream had me waking up short of breath and upset. Thank God, the psyche He created comes complete with its own system of checks and balances. We do not need a pocket analyst when we can use our brains, our spirits, and the care of God to waft us toward awareness. How grateful I am for that awareness, and for the dreams and other emblems of God’s love that keep me accountable to Him and to my Self!

So, the baby was in danger of neglect because I was honoring a dog as equal with her. This should never be. The dog is important to the function and survival of the whole, but one doesn’t stay stuck at Dog Stage. No, one moves on. One incorporates Dog, but one becomes fully human. So, what does nurturing and caring for the baby—for the emergent content—look like? This was the puzzle the dream gave me to solve.

For me the current manifestation of new life and potential is “speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in all aspects” (Ephesians 4:15). It takes a long time to be able to recognize objective Truth, and longer still to be able to speak it in love. The hardest task of all, for most, is to learn to speak the truth because of love for one’s own self. One may love another person enough to risk speaking truth for that person’s sake; but to speak truth for one’s own sake? How dangerous this can be, for it may suggest self-absorption or narcissism, hubris or myopia. We may have to overcome our own orphan’s hearts, love our unloved selves, or simply risk appearing not to be Nice. There are pitfalls to speaking the truth because of love for oneself.

I paused on my way downstairs this morning as I pondered the question of what it means to care for my inner ‘baby’ in this situation with Juniper’s school. I directed it inwardly, casting about my small light, asking myself what it meant. And then I offered my question as a prayer: What does it mean to care for the baby in this situation? What has God been nurturing in me, and what had I been ready to abandon for survival? What was I counting as exactly equal in value to the survival I can buy with mere instinctive behavior?

My own instinctive behavior, the one that helped me survive in the past, is the habitual behavior of the hoop-jumper: make yourself useful, do the right thing, Just Do It (like Nike). I have, however, moved beyond mere survival. But under stress, people regress, and much was at risk in the situation. The problem with Miss Brown put the entire year I had planned at risk, a year that actually included time for myself: My Self.  I was in danger of compromising my Self in a situation that didn’t call for that level of compromise.

So. There I was this morning, poised on the stairs as the eastern light flooded our entry, asking myself what it meant to care for the baby in this situation. What had been bothering me was that I was required to attend a meeting with Mrs. Kelly and be oriented to her rules and procedures before Juniper would be allowed back at school. The implication was that Juniper had done something wrong, whereas I had been the one who had voluntarily withdrawn her from Miss Brown’s class after letting the school know exactly why. Yet Juniper had to remain home today because I had not been indoctrinated.

To me, it appeared thus: If I do not make the mobile, Juniper fails the assignment; if I do not make sure she reads the right book, Juniper fails the book report; if I do not sit meekly at the table and have the rules taught to me, Juniper is not allowed to attend school. The real problem here is not Juniper. The real problem is me. I am the problem they are trying to solve. This is what I saw with great clarity. And I do know the rules at school, because I have read the blessed Handbook, I have signed contracts, I substitute teach at the school, and with my husband I attended several parent orientations. The problem here has nothing to do with my knowing the rules and procedures. I am not sure what the real problem is according to the principal, Miss Brown, and Mrs. Kelly. That may not even be my business, and it may not be a problem I can help solve. The only real problem for me is caring for the baby of my own emergent good stuff.

I suddenly saw with great clarity what caring for the baby of emergent content meant for me in this situation. I must nurture and protect my ability to speak the truth through love for my own Self. And so I emailed the principal, and I said this:

Dear Principal, Thank you again for agreeing to move Juniper to Mrs. Kelly’s class. I’ll be meeting with Mrs. Kelly this afternoon about her classroom policies and rules, as you instructed. However, I wanted to say that I have some concerns about whether I’ve given the impression that Juniper and I can’t follow the rules or don’t understand procedures. It feels like Juniper is being punished for having a mother who will advocate for her in the face of a teacher who acts inappropriately. Juniper has now missed three days of school because we were not about to send her to the classroom of a teacher who labels a child out of frustration and helps that child to begin to develop a self-image of “failure” and inepteness when formerly this has been a joyful, competent student.

What consequence has Miss Brown received while we sit at home, feeling that we’ve been disallowed from attending school when I have never even hinted that I wanted or expected any exception made to any rule?  Having Juniper forced to stay home until *I* am oriented feels very much like punishment for being a competent parent.

If you or anyone else at the school sees it differently, I’d appreciate clarification.

Even as I sent the email, I had mixed feelings: feelings of joy that I had cared for the baby, but also feeling sorry for the principal, who (believe you me) doesn’t really need a headache like me on her hands. Why were the tables suddenly turned and my child penalized for my uppity behavior? Had Miss Brown been criticizing behind our backs? Had my own emails been my downfall? Was the school covering its butt? Was Mrs. Kelly concerned about my making trouble? Or had the principal actually heard me when I’d said that the majority of the practical problems I’d had with Miss Brown could have been solved with better communication about expectations?

While I’d like to know the answers to these questions, and would like to understand the school’s perspective, understanding is not essential to nurturing my real self. All that was needed was for me to be willing to say that I have concerns; that I feel punished; that I see myself as doing what is right for my child; and that I saw my child endangered in that school; and also that I question how our reputation as parents may have suffered because we made the decisions we made. And that I’d like to know the school’s perspective, if they will offer one.

Since writing my email, I’ve known that I did the right thing for my ever-evolving Self; but I also feel embarrassed and even somewhat silly. My ego is in there, elbowing me in the ribs, suggesting that I am making a mountain out of a mole hill, “it’s not that big a deal,” and “there you go again.” My ego likes me to think that my Real Self isn’t worth the same sort of effort and care that I invest in the Real Selves of my children and others I love. But the fact is that my Real Self is worth every effort that can and must be expended in the care and nurture of emerging beings. She is a wonder and glory, a unique light in the universe that, when functioning properly, might give glory to God.

I don’t know how speaking the truth in love can help me grow up in all aspects unto the Emergent One who is our pattern for being fully human yet fully divine. I only know that it is part of the way that we all must take, and I’m learning as I stumble along. Writing this last email to the principal felt scary, and I also feel scared about meeting with Mrs. Kelly this afternoon, for I have no ideas about her, yet fear she may have many about me. I fear I may compulsively defend myself, although I know in my heart that there is no need. I will have to watch myself so that I don’t regress to needlessly archaic behaviors simply because I feel afraid. I have to care for the baby, and only a competent person can do that.

Competence is required, even though I often see and experience myself as “smaller than small,” as Jung would say, not much to look at and without much to offer. I am barely up to schooling my children and dealing with fourth grade teachers. But for some reason, my smallness seems so endearingly human to me today. However I may appear, I feel like one who is bearing a naked infant in my arms, with nothing to protect her other than my own arms. So vulnerable. So new.

So beloved, in spite of having nothing to offer but herself.

References

Jung, C. G. (1969). The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. R. F. C. Hull, Trans. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Photos by Chinua.