Good Marriages Make Happy Children

By Harville Hendrix, Ph.D.

Most couples who unearth the roots of conflict in their relationship make a surprising discovery: the trail to understanding the sources of the struggle leads to a reservoir of unmet childhood needs. Viewing their marriage through one lens of childhood reveals direct parallels between the way they feel in their marriage and the way they felt as children. The other lens reveals aspects of their parents' marriage that they have unconsciously re-created with their partner. The model of marriage they tried to escape has followed them to their own bedroom where they, like programmed robots, behave with each other as they behaved with their parents.

At some point, enlightened couples ask: Why are we doing this? The answer that finally emerges is that they are trying to work out with their partners the problems that remained unresolved with their parents. Such an awareness often leads to remarkable changes in attitude. Instead of blaming their parents, they see them as wounded children suffering the parenting failures of their mothers and fathers. Couples get to learn experientially what marital and family therapists have been talking about for years: unresolved childhood problems are handed down from generation to generation.

As this awareness settles in, partners look at each other in a different light. They view each other no longer as "intimate enemies," but as fellow pilgrims on a journey toward emotional healing and spiritual wholeness. The relief this vision provides, however, may be disturbed by the anxiety it raises about the emotional welfare of their own children.

What We Saw As Children

In a recent couples weekend workshop, Mary, in tears, asked, "Are we doing to our children what our parents did to us?" Although the truth hurt, the answer was: "Yes. Just as your model of marriage came from your parents, so did your model of parenting. During childhood, you took in the way you saw yourself being treated as the way to treat others; and you now refer to this early inner experienceunconsciously, as your blueprint for the way to behave with your spouse and your children."

George, Mary's husband, asked somewhat fearfully, "Does that mean we have already hurt our children?" Again the answer was: "Yes. The internalization of models begins in early childhood. With their first experiences, children create a picture of the outside world. Simultaneously, in the course of interacting with their parents, they create an image of themselves. The world is 'safe' for children if their needs are met; if those needs are frustrated, the world is 'dangerous.' The corresponding image of the self is 'secure' or 'insecure,' depending on the availability of reliable warmth. So, to the extent that your conflicts have created tension in the home and diverted your attention from your child, he or she has been emotionally injured.

"During a child's first six years, the images of world and self are flexible and can be changed. Between ages 7 and 10, a child will respond to improved conditions in the environment. Once adolescence begins, however, change is more difficult because the child is well accustomed to a stressful environment and the child's behavior is more rigid. Changes in adolescence require radical alterations at home-an endeavor that may call for professional help, yet is certainly worth the effort. Why? Because whatever is not resolved in adolescence reappears in marriage and forms the basis for a power struggle."

Then came the big question: "Is there anything we can do to keep our children from having the kind of marriage that we have, or that our parents had? Can this chain of pain be broken?" The answer I gave was: "The best gift you can give your children is a good marriage."

The idea that the quality of your marriage has a direct influence on the quality of your child's future marriage may be as alarming to you as it is to couples in my weekend workshops. The fact that your relationship with your parents is the culprit in your marriage may be equally distasteful. It is certainly one of the most unwelcome ideas I have ever encountered.

Nonetheless, the evidence mounts. I have seen thousands of couples, and family researchers have studied thousands more, who are grappling with a marital conflict that can be traced back to childhood. The evidence goes even further. All our close relationships in adult life-at work, with friends, in organizations, in politics-are viewed through the screen of childhood memories. In every area of life that entails emotional involvement with others, we are repeating our childhood experiences or trying to work them out. And this struggle in adulthood to come to terms with childhood is a direct outcome of the quality of our parents' marriage, their early relationship to us, and the relationships we had with other significant people. Our children cannot escape this fate. It is a reality we must face.

What Children Need Most

What kind of marriage must children witness to become healthy adults and create a happy marriage of their own? Until recently, we did not know the answer to this question. Now we do. And it is quite simple: children need an environment infused with reliable warmth, a free flow of communication, and protection from injury. So say developmental psychologists John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, who for 30 years studied children interacting with their parents both at home and in laboratory settings.

In the course of their studies, Bowlby and Ainsworth identified three basic types of children: "secure," "insecure," and "avoidant." The secure children, who had reliable warmth and protection during the first two years of life, developed a "secure emotional base." From there, they set out to explore their environment, evolving through the stages of childhood with a positive self-image, confidence in themselves, a positive attitude toward the outside world, and good relationships with others. According to follow-up studies, the secure children learned well in school, made friends, had few illnesses, were liked by their teachers, expressed their feelings freely, knew how to get comfort when they needed it, and were involved in many activities.

The parents of these children all had good marriages. They expressed affection toward each other, solved problems well, showed respect for their children, and considered each other their "best friend." These marriages were also distinguished by a free flow of communication between partners. Everything was open to discussion. The researchers concluded that parents who are not distracted by unexpressed anger, tension, and distrust between themselves are available emotionally to their offspring. Such relationships provide children with good role models that they can internalize and take with them into their adult lives.

Most children are not so fortunate. Their parents, stressed by life circumstances as well as tensions in their relationship, and lacking good role models themselves, are less apt to provide reliable warmth and protection-or, as I call it, "consistent availability." Some parents are immediately available on some occasions and not others. Some parents, while physically present, are insensitive to their children's signals of distress. Their responses may be delayed or inappropriate to the situation, or they may initially reject their children and then become excessively indulgent.

According to Bowlby and Ainsworth, such children become "anxious and insecure." Uncertain that their parents will be available if called upon, they turn into "clingy and whiny" children who are uncomfortable about going to school, and often do not do well in class. Some are prone to tics or frequent stomachaches; others get more than their fair share of colds and flus. Some are impulsive and easily frustrated; others are tense and constantly seeking attention, either by crying or by entertaining their parents.

These children share another striking feature: the absence of a free flow of communication. They do not readily share their feelings or experiences with their parents. And when they do talk, they change subjects frequently, too anxious to concentrate on any topic for a significant period of time. When these children are away from their parents, they constantly ask about them; when they are with their parents, they frequently check to see if they are accessible.

The insidious aspect of this pattern of behavior is its persistence. Peter and Susan interrupted their therapy session one day to discuss their teenage son. He had unexpectedly come home from college and taken the family car to another city. When he failed to return home that night, his parents grew frantic. Finally, he phoned and said he did not think they would notice his absence, and even if they did, they would not care. At the time of the session, he was still away, staying with his aunt. When Susan and Peter asked what to do, I insisted that they get in the car and go to him at once, express concern about his feelings of not being loved, and bring him home.

Later that day, another couple discussed their teenager. Anxious about going away to summer camp, she had cried during the night. And when they went to comfort her, she said, "I am afraid I will never see you again."

Both couples mentioned that their adolescents had been whiny and clingy as young children. Marriage during those early years, they reported, had been difficult. Susan had been depressed when her son was young, primarily because she believed that Peter did not love her. He was so involved in his business that she seldom saw him; and when they were together, they alternated between feeling extremely close and engaging in vicious fights. "Nothing seemed stable," she said. "When we were close, I knew it would not last. Peter could not stand the intimacy. As soon as we made love, he would withdraw emotionally or physically. During these times, I felt so confused. And when the children came around, I had no energy for them, so I acted mechanically. But when things were good between Peter and me, I enjoyed the children and eagerly involved myself in their activities."

When asked about her childhood, she said she did not know if her parents loved her. She could never tell. Sometimes things seemed wonderful, and then everything would change, or they would fight, and before she knew what was going on, the house would fill with an appalling silence. She recalled feeling nauseous a lot and being sick. Based on her recollections, Susan parents her children the way her parents parented her, and, not surprisingly, her feelings toward Peter echo the way she felt toward her parents. Without some dramatic change in her marriage, her son may well feel insecure in his marriage and repeat the intergenerational pattern of marriage and parenting.

What about the avoidant child? On the surface, say Bowlby and Ainsworth, avoidant children look great. They are fiercely independent and appear self-sufficient in every way. They neither cling to their parents nor seem concerned if they are not present. When parents return from an absence, these children do not run to them for hugs; in fact, they show little interest

The researchers found that when avoidant children initially approached their parents, they were rebuffed or ignored. The parents, for their part, were unavailable and rejecting. Even stressful crying could not attract their interest. Only when crying became unbearable did they respond-mechanically and coldly. Eventually, these children ceased to show distress when their parents left them.

Convinced that when they need care, their parents will not be there for them, avoidant children learn to keep their distance from mom and dad. At school, they often show hostility, bullying other students and sometimes teachers as well. These children are adept at getting negative attention while hiding their desire for love and support. They also avoid engaging in a free flow of information while conversing with parents and other adults. When discussions touch on personal feelings, they are likely to change the subject. While they appear emotionally isolated from their own feelings and those of others, emotions that do come to expression are acted out, rather than articulated. Instead of using words to express anger or frustration, avoidant children would sooner strike out at someone or run to their rooms.

The Chain of Pain

In my relationship therapy practice, I see grown-up versions of insecure and avoidant children. Now they are clingy and emotionally distant adults. Often, they are married to each other and have children of their own. The insecure partner clings and complains. The avoidant partner, fiercely independent and beholden to no one, minimizes their marital struggle and their children's problems as "normal."

Susan, after tearfully describing years of emotional abuse and lack of closeness, became stiff with rage when she heard her husband Clarence say: "It isn't that bad. Everyone has problems. Things would be OK if you did not complain so much. That's what bothers me�You are always so emotional-climbing the walls."

When asked if he could comfort his wife through her tears, he replied: "No, I see that all the time. It's just a game. We didn't do that in my family. If we did, we would be beaten or sent to our rooms." "What happens inside you when Susan cries?" I asked. "Nothing," he answered. "I just go numb and want to leave the room. That's what I would do if I weren't here."

Not only did Clarence struggle to remain in control of his feelings, but he also tried to gain control of therapy by redirecting the conversation to the welfare of the children. By then, Susan had stopped crying and had withdrawn, defeated again in her attempt to elicit a positive emotional response. At that point, she meekly acquiesced to talking about the children.

Susan and Clarence have two teenage children. Their 17-year-old daughter is doing well in school, does not complain about anything, and has never asked for help with schoolwork. She has many acquaintances and few friends. Although she has begun to date, she has never brought home any of her boyfriends. When Susan discovered that her daughter had broken up with a recent boyfriend, all she would say was, "It's nothing. I didn't expect anything, anyway." Her earlier years included a period of unbearable crying, which had been diagnosed as colic, and an otherwise quiet childhood. In the words of her father, she was "always independent," someone who "knew her own mind"-ominous indications of an environment that did not foster open relationships and the sharing of feelings.

Their 15-year-old son had always been demanding, had had bouts of depression, and was unable to sustain friendships for any period of time. He had tried some drugs for a while, and gave them up after developing a relationship with his first girlfriend. Although he was smart, his grades were poor and he engaged in few after-school activities. In contrast to his sister's pseudo-independence, he had little interest in going to camp or getting a summer job; his preference was always to be at home. As a young child, he would often try to sit on his mother's lap, only to be criticized by his father. And when he would try to horse around with his father, they would end up in a fight.

Stirred by the specter of this pained husband and wife replicating themselves in their children, I began to feel alarmed about the future of our society. This couple's struggle, after all, represents the struggle of the human family. Their story is my story. It may be your story. While some details are unique and some stories are more painful than others, the patterns are all the same: the wounds of childhood are passed on through the generations. The past is transmitted through the present to the future.

In most instances, we become a problem only to ourselves and our families. We adapt to our pain and live out our lives in quiet or noisy desperation. In other instances, we become a problem to society. We fill hospitals with psychosomatic illness, mental institutions with confusion and despair, prisons with anger and revenge, divorce courts with destroyed families and more injured children, and streets with homeless men, women, and now families. Some of us become candidates for houses of prostitution; others become customers of the drug cartels of Columbia and the breweries of Kentucky. A few, seeking a way out, show up at meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous or other self-help groups; fewer still appear in the offices of psychiatrists or other mental health professionals. We also seek answers through religion and social causes. We are the walking wounded-victims of failed parenting and troubled marriages.

This need not be a continuing chronicle, however. Hope for a new future rests with good marriages. Enough evidence is now in to show that whereas children who are deprived of consistent availability and reliable warmth lead problematic lives, happy children explore the world with a burning curiosity as well as care and respect for nature. Free of the stresses posed by insecurity, they experience less illness, better functioning immune systems, and longer lives. Free of the need to focus on their pain, they have the energy to create good marriages and produce happy children who will in turn contribute to the social good.

Healthy marriages must become our number one national priority. Government and private enterprise need to join hands and bring this vital area to national consciousness. Surely, if we can go to the moon and peer into the infinite reaches of the universe, we can educate ourselves about how to be married and rear children who are emotionally healthy and spiritually whole. They will create a society worth living in.

Rather than spend precious resources repairing human wounds-and yes, fighting drugs, waging war, and solving social problems-let us invest in preventing them. No further research is needed. We already know what to teach. The key to improving the human condition has been with us for thousands of years: we must learn to love, not as a moral ideal, but as a pragmatic necessity.

Using Your Marriage to Create Healthy Kids

The basic elements of a healthy family are emotional security, a free flow of communication between all family members, and protective instructions about the external environment. And the best way to raise up a healthy family is by raising up a healthy marriage.

 Prioritize your relationship with your partner. 
This will provide your children with a secure environment and a healthy model of marriage.

 Express praise, affection, and appreciation for each other in the presence of your children.
They will experience the benefits of a warm environment and learn relationship skills.

Comfort each other in times of stress, and let your children witness these acts of loving solace.
Let them comfort you also.

 Give each other gifts that you have chosen with care. 
Take the children with you to pick them out. Also accept gifts from your children. They will learn to give and receive.

 Show your full range of feelings, and let your children see how you work them out.
Exhibit pleasure and excitement; have fun with each other; belly laugh together. Be angry with each other, work through the anger, and return to a bonded state. Your children will learn that all feelings are OK-that anger, especially, can be handled constructively.

 While talking together, particularly in times of conflict, take turns reflecting back to each other what you hear. Do the same with your children. They will learn good communication skills.

Solve problems with each other, and let your kids in on the process. 
They will learn the art of problem solving and the notion that problems can be solved.

 Talk to each other about social values and political views, and engage your children in the conversation.

 Do not do anything with or to each other that you do not want your children to learn.
They will model your behavior in the future.

 Remember, your marriage is a conduit to future generations.