So I gave birth to twin daughters when I was 22. The journey, as fulfilling as it is, didn’t come without its complex challenges, namely a nearly paralysing illness that affected the primary caregiver, i.e., me, and the most daunting of all: opinions on screen time.
Before the much-awaited birth, we made plans to never give our children any access to screens before maybe age 5, no personal smartphones before university, blah blah. The joke’s on us: we caved.
Not because we were lazy or incompetent parents, but because God sent our way a rather challenging phase in life. I was diagnosed with Guillain-Barré Syndrome, an autoimmune disease that reduces your mobility to zero.
It came upon us right before their 7-month birthday, and within two nights, we found ourselves deep inside a tunnel of shock and chaos. How could we possibly console two infants who wanted me to hold them when I couldn’t even hold a glass of water?
I had back-to-back physiotherapy sessions, no strength, a puppet at best, so we resorted to the only help we could find: screen time—help that came at the right time, but didn’t leave.
Why didn’t anyone tell us about screen time addiction in kids? The temporary caregivers weren’t patient enough to feed and console the babies, so we introduced Ms.Rachel to the caregiving mix—a sweet lady who charms and lulls kids with educational rhymes and toys.
But she didn’t leave. Or rather, my kids didn’t let her go, or Elmo, Tom, and Jerry, and all the other dancing characters, I thought were way less stimulating than the other crack being fed to young brains nowadays. Now, it was only lunchtime with Rachel or no lunchtime.
How could gentle parenting work with such a stubborn infant perspective?
It only got worse. With every car ride, every cry that lasted more than a minute, every moment where my limbs felt weaker than earlier, we sought refuge in YouTube. And unfortunately, multiple screen time rehab sessions later, we remained at square one—battling inconvenience with attention damage.
Until one day, I realized that I could do nothing to replace screen time. It was true: my babies were choosing screen time to replace my attention. And fate had prohibited me from fulfilling their needs for the time being. Mom’s guilt had no place in matters of fate. Sometimes, letting go of essential inconveniences we have no control over is essential to our well-being and that of others.