Loïs Iglesias, a 25-year-old mother, shares her experience of grappling with 'maternal gatekeeping' in a column for LINDA.mini. At 7 p.m., while her partner attempts to put their four-month-old son, Sepp, to bed, Loïs feels an immediate urge to intervene. When Sepp begins to whimper, a sound that usually requires his mother's specific attention, Loïs moves into the room before the crying intensifies, taking the baby directly from her partner's arms. She admits to telling him, 'Just give him to me,' a reflexive action rooted in her belief that she is better equipped to soothe him. Loïs explores the psychological and societal roots of maternal gatekeeping. Mothers are often expected to be the primary caregivers, creating a knowledge gap during the postpartum period. Additionally, perfectionism plays a role; if a mother knows exactly how things should be done, it becomes difficult to trust her partner to perform them differently. An anecdote illustrates this: upon returning from an outing, Loïs finds Sepp dressed in clothes from the previous day, smelling of sour milk, having played in the grass. Her partner explains they mowed the lawn together, but the confusion arises from Loïs’ assumption that she had laid out the clothes, highlighting the mental load she carries and expects others to manage with precision. [1]
Loïs acknowledges that her 'fingertip sensitivity' is highly developed, allowing her to decipher Sepp’s cues instantly. She has established a consistent evening routine involving singing, cuddling, and kissing his forehead, which reliably helps him fall asleep. This efficiency is partly due to the disparity in time spent with the infant; while her partner returned to work after two weeks, Loïs spent that initial period following the 'invisible manual' of early parenthood alone. However, she recognizes that this dynamic undermines her stated belief in equal parenting, where both mothers and fathers share caregiving duties equally. Despite Sepp being content, fed, and happy, Loïs feels the weight of her own perfectionism in the moment. The turning point comes during an NRC thematic evening on parenting, where Professor Maartje Luijk cites that 37 percent of parents suffer from parental burnout symptoms. These arise when caregiving capacity cannot meet caregiving demands, catalyzed by the lack of community support, information overload, and perfectionism. Loïs reflects on her energy expenditure in trying to control every aspect of parenting, realizing the toll it takes on both herself and her partner. [1]
By constantly taking Sepp from her partner's hands, Loïs realizes she inadvertently promotes herself to 'head commander' while demoting her partner to a mere 'sailor.' Her partner grows increasingly frustrated with her controlling tendencies, a sentiment she shares. This behavior, known academically as maternal gatekeeping, involves mothers unconsciously shaping childcare so that fathers have little opportunity to participate effectively. Loïs identifies her own pattern of correcting, improving, and ultimately taking over tasks as a significant drain on energy and a barrier to genuine shared parenting. With Sepp still young and free from debates over vegetables or screen time, Loïs resolves to break her pattern. In a decisive act, she allows her partner to put Sepp to bed again. When the baby whimpers, she remains downstairs, listening but not intervening. She watches her partner try a different song and adjust the cuddle routine, resisting the urge to correct his method. Sepp eventually falls asleep. Loïs embraces the idea that 'imperfection is perfection,' committing to let her partner hang the metaphorical tile of parenting in his own way and place, fostering a more equitable partnership. [1]
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