Why being in silence with your child is one of the greatest gifts you can give them

“You can’t bear the silence.”

That’s what a psychologist said to me during a group seminar on leadership.

We were a group of young people being trained to work as district managers for a retail company in Germany.

As part of the training we attended different seminars that were held at a retreat center over a couple days to allow us to really dive into the topic, and learn together in an intimate setting.

It was the first evening of that particular seminar, and we were all sitting on chairs in a circle and waiting for the psychologist leading the seminar to tell us what would happen next.

Or at least I was.

After, what felt like an eternity to me, I finally broke the silence by making a joke. I don’t remember the joke, but I am fairly certain the other trainees laughed, and I was pleased with myself.

Until the psychologist exclaimed that I struggle with sitting in silence.

I was taken aback.

I thought I was in some important way helping the group along by breaking the silence. I was, in a very real way, showing leadership skills.

And then I learned that I was doing the opposite.

This memory has stuck with me for over a decade now and I often find myself thinking back to it when I or another person around me feels compelled to break a silent moment.

And as a parent, the value of silence has taken on a whole new importance for me.

Being able to be in silence with our child is one of the greatest gifts we can give them.

And something I have noticed many parents (including myself at times) really struggle with.

We constantly say things to children such as

“Are you having fun?”

“Is this yummy?”

“Do you want to go on the slide?” 

“Good job!”

“You drew a pony!” 

“You are feeling frustrated that you can’t have ice cream right now.”

All of these questions or comments take the child out of the moment, out of living the experience and feeling it in their body (and their heart) and make them get in their heads.

Instead of having fun, they are now reflecting on whether they are having fun (and learning that this is what one does in a moment of joy).

Instead of tasting and savoring the food with all their senses, they are now reflecting on whether they like the food.

Instead of taking in the scene at the playground and feeling in their bodies whatever they feel and making sense of it, they are now reflecting on what they should do (and what is expected of them).

Instead of working on whatever they were working on and being fully engaged in the task, just for the sake of the task itself (and possibly with no end goal per se), they are now reflecting on how well they did (and learning that they are expected to perform well).

Instead of being immersed in drawing for the sake of drawing and having this as a full body experience, they are now reflecting on the fact that they are drawing.

Instead of feeling the emotion passing through their body and feeling it out, they are now reflecting on the fact that they are frustrated.

In all of these instances, we get a child out of their body, and into their head.

In a deep way, we teach them to lose connection to their own body, to their authentic self, and to solely focus on their minds.

And we teach them to disconnect from being in the present moment.

But we also disconnect from them.

When we force our child to evaluate the moment (or do so for them), we cannot be in the moment with them.

We are, as a result, also not our authentic selves.

Because to be our authentic selves, means that we are being real, that we engage in a relationship and share our inner world.  

I believe there are many reasons people tend to do this.

One is that people (as I used to and still do sometimes) feel uncomfortable with silence. The reason for this is often that we have never learned to just be in silence ourselves. Or that we feel (usually subconsciously) unsafe when we are just present in our bodies. And so we feel the need to distract ourselves.

I believe another reason is that many people believe that this is good for their child. That we should label emotions and experiences for them. That we should describe for them what they are doing. That this is how they learn to make sense of the world.

And I agree that there is a time and place for this.

But I think most people could do so much less often than they do.

And I believe it is important that children first experience their emotions and are in the moment before we can help them make sense of them through labels.

Just like a house needs a solid foundation before we can build the walls and put on a roof, children first need to feel at home in their bodies and be able to fully feel and experience their emotions and inner world before they can learn to reflect on them.

If this resonates with you, I invite you to try out being silent. Spend an hour (or however long you feel comfortable with) together with your child with the intention not to comment or ask questions that force them to reflect on the moment. Simply be with them. Being present with them doesn’t mean you can’t say anything or you need to ignore them. You can mirror what they are doing.

If your child screams in joy, scream with them. Meet their eyes, and mirror what they are doing.

If they are frustrated, sit with them. Hold the space for them without commenting.

Observe how your child responds to this approach.

Observe how it makes you feel.

Try to put your phone and other distractions away, and just be in the moment. 

If you struggle with this, you can try taking deep belly breaths. Count to 3 as you breathe deeply into your belly, hold your breath for a moment, and breath out even more slowly. Focus on your breath and how it feels in your body.

Be patient with yourself. If you struggle with this at first this is normal. I have been trying to be present more often and still struggle with it. Simply notice it and have compassion with yourself. Any new habit takes time and effort.

But I promise it is worth the effort.

Both for yourself and for your child.

Because I believe being able to be in silence together (or by ourselves) is the greatest form of connection.

Connection to ourselves, to our child, to other people, and to the world.