By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I had a great life. I’d started and was running a successful business. I had a tribe of smart, funny, and supportive women friends. I was healthy and fit. Furthermore, I was coming to terms with the possibility that I would remain single and childfree, and I was becoming more confident that I could create a fulfilling life for myself, by myself. I had everything I needed and I was happy.
Until.
During an extraordinary two-week period, I took care of my 15-month-old nephew, Jake, while his parents traveled. We danced, we laughed. He threw tantrums, I stressed about keeping the house together and keeping him from getting hurt. Everything was somewhat under control. Then one night, while I was in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes, he came up behind me, threw his arms around my leg in a tight hug, kissed the back of my calf, then toddled back to the living room.
“Thanks, Jake!” I managed to get out before tears locked up my voice. A current of love surged from my leg and throughout my body as I sobbed into the soapy water. I was struck by the realization of how touch deprived I had been for so long. Sure, friends greeted each other with a light hug and peck on the cheek. It wasn’t even the passion of a romantic relationship that I longed for. It was the daily human interaction, the hugs and kisses, the gentle caresses, the genuine affection, the skin-to-skin contact, something moms get (and have even been heard to complain about).
At that time in my life, I had none of that in my home. What made me a bit scared was that I hadn’t even noticed. It had become my “normal” and I hadn’t thought anything of it until Jake reawakened the need in me.
When I got back home, I brainstormed how I might create more physical affection in my life. I ruled out engaging in one-night stands and, well, hiring male escorts, both of which lacked the “genuine” aspect I needed. I thought about scheduling more frequent massages. I lavished my dog with belly rubs, which helped some. Was it enough? Would it be enough?
The one answer that made sense to me was that in order to receive, I needed to give. I could visit elderly residents of retirement homes, providing them with conversation, attention, and gentle touches. I could become more huggie with my friends, especially my single friends. I could offer to babysit, giving my mom-friends breaks they needed and getting some cuddling time with the children who inhabit my circles.
Are you aware of this need in yourself? If you’ve come up with creative solutions, please share them with us in a comment. Meanwhile (and I know this is just a tidbit), please consider yourself cyber-hugged.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
I’m married but feel this need quite often. The hug from a child is just different from that of an adult. There is nothing like the feel of unconditional hugs. and love from a child. We kept my nephew on and off for the first six years of his life, and the cuddles, hugs, and kisses are things I will never forget and miss on a daily basis.
I credit physical (not sexual) touch for both healing my marriage when there were cracks in it, and for helping me heal when I was grieving. Our family was not a hugging family – it really wasn’t a New Zealand thing at the time I was growing up, certainly not in rural New Zealand. So I’ve had to learn how to hug. (I learned from Americans when we were all exchange students in Thailand). I have a friend who gives big, tight, loving hugs. I love that.
And I get hugs from my nieces. That’s always nice.
Yes I think the hug from a child is unique – I won’t have the opportunity for these from anyone’s children. I do relate to Mali’s point about the tight, big hug from a friend though, I’ve noticed this from one of our friends that we see fairly often (drinking on a Friday night) and we always greet each other with a heartfelt hug. I’ve always appreciated these for the message it gives – in that moment I feel valued and special. I realise reading these posts that it is very likely making up for some lost “child” hugs.
I am not a huggy person – and I’m in social groups & career fields where the people hug A LOT… I try to warn them off before they try to hug me too much (I am forced to tolerate a little), and my close friends know better than to try to hug me at all. The ONLY person I want to hug on this planet is my husband (I don’t like hugging my mother or other family members, either!) and I am sad that we never had a child because I’m pretty sure I’d’ve liked hugging and being hugged by them – not because they’re a child (I was never huggy with my nieces or friends’ children) but because they would have been like my husband. I’m sure (in that way you can be sure of something because it will never be proven) that child would have shared whatever quality it is that my husband has that makes him alone so perfectly huggable to me… And my poor husband wouldn’t have to keep bearing the brunt of ALL of my hugs! Ah well.