"Such big hands she has!" my father exclaimed at my birth.  Both of my parents relayed this to me many times during the years of my growth, as though it had great meaning.  Indeed, it has come to be very meaningful to me, especially in relation to my father and the great value I now place on touch.

Little would my father have known that I was able to experience touch in my mother's womb just several weeks after conception.  As time progressed, I could suck my thumb, and touch my body, the umbilical cord, and the boundaries of my liquid home.  During labor, I felt squeezing all over my body.  It was my first full-body massage!  It was that massaging that ensured that all the systems of my body would be in good working order after birth.  You know, my mother wasn't too keen on licking me like her mammalian animal counterparts.  So, Nature designed her system to work just fine by having the "big licks" happen internally just prior to my birth.

Growing up, I would experience my Papa's touch in many ways.  When I was a baby, this Italian immigrant would hold me and sing a lullaby from his homeland.  Dimly, I can still hear a very comforting "a-vey-voo-pol-o-gino-row-say-blue…".  For years, I would watch his massive hands diligently work with mortar and bricks.  A mason, Papa's hands were strong, gnarled, and often rough.  However, when he wasn't engaged in creative pursuits with concrete, he was gentle with the jungle of plants in his tiny suburban garden, the family dog, Mom, and the children.  In the evenings, he would rest his exhausted body in the recliner in the living room.  It was a joy for me to climb onto his lap to share an affectionate embrace.  "I love you all the way up to God!" I would say, exuberantly throwing my arms into the air.

Much of my career has been filled with the importance of touch.  As an aide and social worker in a nursing home, I developed warm relationships with the residents and would treat them as though they were my parents.  They needed showers, and help dressing, eating, and walking.  I quickly discovered that they needed gentle handholding, hair stroking, back rubs, and hugs just as much.

While counseling adults in a substance abuse rehabilitation center, I heard painful stories of touch-related neglect and abuse, and family alienation.  They enjoyed a simple touch on their back, shoulder, arm, and maybe knee, but only when offered sensitively after a trusting relationship was established.

The shelter for youth I directed not only housed runaways, but "throwaways".  These boys did not feel loved.  However, they would often blossom when they felt secure and were nurtured with hugs and "high-fives".

The children from the respite program I coordinated were already labeled as having a "serious emotional disturbance".  Their families struggled to function with high-levels of stress.  This was often attributed to the behavior of their child, who was pending institutionalization or recently discharged from a psychiatric unit.  Parents did not want to hit; children were frequently violent.  Yet, calm, respectful, appropriate touch appeared to smooth out parent-child tensions so that both could enjoy warm connection time.

How could I promote healthy, gentle touch from birth?  I became an Early Intervention Specialist.  This afforded me opportunities to be with new parents.  The Gentle Touch® Parent-Child Program I developed was a wonderful tool in building strong, positive patterns of relating.  Used as a health promotion, an experiential parenting program, a child abuse prevention, and a high-risk intervention, Gentle Touch® brought joy to me with every benefit that a child, parent, and family experienced.

Now, facilitating Gentle Touch® with parents with babies in the womb, infants, toddlers, and preschoolers, as well as training professionals continues to make my heart sing.  Whether in person, or through the Gentle Touch® Infant Massage Video, I know that early relationships are being enhanced.  Parents are communicating love through appropriate, gentle touch.  Professionals are empowering caregivers for their vital role.  They also support them so that their pleasure in parenting is increased, and their heart becomes a "listening" one.  An important goal is to honor children as aware human beings who are deserving of respect and tenderness.  Given this beginning, the road they travel can be one of trust and compassion, rather than fear and pain.

During trainings, professionals share their most memorable gentle touching stories.  These are usually during stressful or transitional times in their life.  The stories represent every part of the continuum of human emotions- from great hurt and sorrow, to gratitude and elation.  Yet common to each was that making physical contact with someone, in a time of need or celebration, was valuable.  In my ministerial role, I continue to witness many examples of this.

Papa developed Alzheimer's when he was in his early eighties.  On a visit, I noticed that his frail stooped body sat in a wheelchair, and that his hands, still massive, now hung motionless in his lap for the first time.  Tenderly placing his hand in mine I asked, "Papa, may I massage you?"  His lips would rarely form words but peering into his eyes I saw "yes".  His restless, dry legs and feet seemed to relax immediately.  The more I massaged him, the more his entire being seemed to enjoy the soothing and show appreciation.  I felt a deep sense of gratitude for sharing this time with one so special to me.

When Papa was 86, I visited him in the hospital.  In a "semi-coma", his eyes were hollow.  I so badly wanted to offer solace to him, and myself.  What better way than to reach out and touch?  Once again, "Papa, may I massage you?"  This time, I felt a "yes" from his feeble hand.  I watched my own hands impart love to my Papa.  I noticed that they were big hands and that they were full of character.  I watched Papa's body, face, and breathing soften as he relaxed into a golden light.  That night, he breathed his last.  Yes, I had made contact.  Yes, he knew that I had.  From the beginning of my life to the end of his life, gentle touch united us in love, through our hands.

©1993-2004, Gentle Touch Parent-Child Program, LLC