Why you must fall in love with your own children? Maria Berlińska

Maria demonstrates the protocol with an example: child says 'He kicked me.' She replies, 'You came because he kicked you? Does it hurt? – It stopped. – Good. What would you like to tell your brother about not kicking you?' That's it. No comment about the kicker. She never asks the other child for their version at that moment. Later, when everyone is calm, she might say, 'Let's agree that we don't hit in our house. What could you do instead?' The aim is to break the cycle of accusation and counter-accusation, and to teach the child that their complaint is heard without turning the parent into a judge. This method builds trust and reduces the frequency of fights.

Maria describes that even with deeply troubled foster teens, these meetings were a pillar. A teenager might have relapsed into drinking, and instead of 'How could you?!', the family would ask, 'What happened that pushed you to this again? How can we help?' The rule was ‘the atmosphere must be kind, there are no judgments’. She says a girl who had been in rehab returned transformed, partly because these meetings gave her a place to be seen without shame. This practice mirrors what she calls the 'evening talk' that she had with her own children every day. The content is less important than the consistent message: you are heard here.

Maria often tells exhausted mothers: 'If you are physically and emotionally worn out, you will not be a good mother. Plead with your husband or, if necessary, take turns – but go.' She knows a man who pushed himself until he collapsed; she tells him his high-stress job demands regular solo breaks. The resistance she hears – 'How can I go alone?' – is met with: 'You're not doing it for yourself; you're doing it for your children. A mother who has recharged returns with renewed love.' She and her own husband took turns, even when they had 8 children in the house. Her older children helped, making it possible.

Maria explains that some children have 'shallow' sensitivity and need very light touch, while others need firm, deep pressure – they literally need to be squeezed. She tells parents not to stop the play but to lay down the law: 'You can wrestle, but you have to watch the boundary. If one of you says stop, it's over immediately – then it's no longer play, it's hurting.' She herself would throw mattresses on the floor and let them go at it, often joining in. She distinguishes between the natural need to compete and physically engage, and real aggression intended to cause pain. Children can learn to tell the difference if given clear rules.

Maria argues that between birth and 3 years, the child's brain builds a neural 'regulator of anxiety' that determines whether the world is safe and whether the child is worthy of love. At around 8 months, this system consolidates and becomes a lifelong template. A nursery cannot offer the consistent, unconditional presence of a mother; caregivers change shifts, moods, and preferences – they 'service' children rather than cherishing them. Even if a child is cute, attention is selective. Two of her foster daughters worked in nurseries and quit because they couldn't stand seeing how children were treated – 'they just process them, there's no tenderness, no love'. Maria concludes that nurseries are only for only children or children from dysfunctional families, because those children need a peer group to learn interpersonal skills they cannot get at home. For children with siblings and healthy families, the home is the best environment.

When a child is furious, the prefrontal cortex is offline. Trying to discuss what happened, why it was wrong, or what should have been done only provokes more arguing and defensiveness. The child will just say 'you always blame me' and the conflict escalates. Maria's practice is to acknowledge the feeling ('I see you're angry, I understand'), offer what the child needs (a hug, space, music), and only later, when the emotional storm has passed, say 'Let's talk about how we can solve this so it doesn't keep happening.' She emphasizes that this applies to all conflicts, from sibling fights to homework battles. She also warns parents not to fall into the trap of trying to win an argument when the child is rationalizing; instead, ask the child to think it over and 'convince me why your solution is good for our family and our society.' This transforms battles into thinking exercises.

Maria explains that children taken from their families are terrified of ending up in a state orphanage (bidul), despite the abuse and neglect they suffered. They instinctively know that a bad relationship is better than no relationship. They would run away from foster families back to their biological parents, sometimes feeding them, because there was a bond – even if it was painful. The only child in her care who completely lost contact with his parents became emotionally stuck; he stopped developing. She says 'the worst parent is a treasure' and that the bond with a mother or father can never be replaced by an institution or even a good foster carer. That primal attachment is so powerful that it can only be filled by the biological parent as long as they live. This is why she located every biological parent of her foster kids and facilitated visits, even when the parents were drunk or destructive – the children needed to make their own choice to detach, not have it made for them.

Maria explains that her own mother was happy and that she inherited a pattern of joyful motherhood. When she and her husband started their family, they made a conscious decision about what would be the most important thing in their lives. She quotes a film line: 'I create a work of art from every day of my life' – and says she signs under it with both hands. Changing nappies, cooking, cleaning – all can be art if done with love and intent. She believes that if a woman wants a career, she should not have children, because she will destroy them; children need a mother who is emotionally present and satisfied with her role. The title phrase 'you must fall in love with your own children' is not about infatuation but about an active, adoring stance that makes the mundane sacred. This is not a feeling but a decision, supported by faith and a supportive husband.

Maria explains that during adolescence, the peer group becomes hugely important. Parents should not panic but adapt their communication style. She loves the teenage phase because 'their wings finally grow'. The key is to stop trying to control and instead say, 'I see it differently. Think about it and convince me why your way is good for you, our family, and society.' This forces the teen to use their prefrontal cortex, to think constructively. She never gave in to provocations – when she stopped being provocable, teens stopped trying. The role of the parent never disappears, but the manner of relating becomes one of accompaniment rather than directive. She insists this works best when the foundation of mutual respect and acceptance was built in the earlier years.