THE BODY KNOWS: A Manifesto for Reclaiming Maternal Attachment
We’ve been telling the story backwards.
We talk about attachment as something mothers give. Something we’re supposed to generate, provide, and maintain no matter what.
We train mothers in attunement, co-regulation, conscious discipline. We hand them scripts, checklists, skills. We tell them to perform presence.
But we never ask:
Do you feel connected?
Do you feel safe?
Do you feel held?
Because here’s the truth
Attachment goes both ways.
You can’t be a healthy attachment figure unless you’re in the attachment.
And you can’t be attached if you’re running on emergency mode.
Not because you’re broken.
Because your body is wise.
The body knows.
It tells you what it needs before you can name it.
When you have to pee - you go pee! You don’t try to breathe through it. You don’t shame yourself for the pressure in your bladder. You find yourself a bathroom at the next reasonable opportunity and you let your body do its thing.
When you want to throw everyone out the window at 5:07pm? You need space. Not a coping skill. An exit.
And you cannot regulate your way out of a need.
You don’t get to deep breathe through having to pee.
You can’t gratitude your way out of needing a break.
You meet the need. Or you pay for it.
But we don’t believe mothers.
We tell them:
“That fear you’re messing up your kid?
That’s just anxiety.
You’re fine.
Look at all the work you’re doing!”
And yes, they are doing the work:
The 20 minutes on the floor.
The rupture-and-repair.
The conscious responses.
The emotion coaching.
The therapy.
But here’s the part we leave out:
It doesn’t “count” if they’re not in it.
Not to the bodies.
If every moment is performed from depletion,
we’re not building attachment - we’re acting it out.
And kids know.
Because bodies know.
And mothers know, too.
This is the dirty little secret we NEVER say out loud.
That fear they’re messing it up?
It’s not neurosis.
It’s truth that has nowhere else to go.
They don’t need reassurance.
They need resourcing.
And what we’re giving them instead is gaslighting disguised as support.
“You’re amazing!”
“They’re lucky to have you!”
“You’re breaking cycles!”
And underneath it:
“Try harder. Keep going. Don’t stop.”
“Don’t leave. Don’t rest. Don’t listen to the part of you that wants to walk away.”
But what if that part isn’t dangerous?
What if it’s just honest?
This is the cultural theft:
We steal the conditions that would make real attachment possible
and then blame mothers for not creating it on their own.
We tell them to bond while underfed, overstimulated, and unacknowledged.
We make their nervous systems the foundation for an entire family’s well-being
and then shame them for needing something back.
We say “motherhood is hard” like it’s a badge of honor.
But what we really mean is:
“We’re comfortable watching you drown.”
It doesn’t have to be this way.
What if we stopped asking:
“Are you bonded to your baby?”
And started asking:
“Are you held?”
“Are you safe enough to feel love?”
“What is your body asking for right now, and how can we give it to you?”
Because a mother who is resourced doesn’t need a parenting script.
She doesn’t need to be taught how to bond.
She already knows.
She just needs back what was stolen from her in the first place.