We were racked with guilt the first time our baby fell off the bed. After the mandatory moment of careful consideration that infants always seem to take, she sentenced us to howls of indignation. But, thankfully, time passes. Now that she is eight months old, it takes a lot more than the odd bump or howl to provoke self-flagellation in us.
But perhaps we should feel guilty. Is not parental guilt there for a reason? It may not be very fashionable in this secular age, but perhaps some guilt, sometimes, is not a bad thing.
One way to avoid the G-word altogether is simply to deny that your parenting has anything to do with how your child behaves. The popular currency of genetic accounts of human behaviour is convenient back-up for the well-worn explanations that "he was born that way" or "it's just the way she is".
In fact, parents who see themselves as having played little or no part when their child behaves badly are more likely to parent abusively and neglectfully. Even when these parents are in the company of other people's offspring, they become irritable more quickly if a child is difficult.
While stopping short of total denial, most of us keep guilt at acceptable levels by cutting up reality to suit our particular circumstances. Indeed, some degree of this is indispensable if we are not to lose our minds. TS Eliot was spot on when he wrote that "Human kind cannot bear very much reality." Mentally healthy people are insulated from it by a rose-tinted bubble of positive illusions, believing that friends like them more than they really do and that nasty things are less likely to happen than is actually the case. Only the depressed fail to protect themselves in this way; their view of the world is partly so bleak precisely because they do not avoid the truth enough - what psychiatrists call depressive realism.
Thus, to keep your bubble intact, Little Johnny's tendency to shoplift obviously comes from a genetic predisposition, whereas his brilliance at maths can only be the result of your wise and diligent nurture. When asked by researchers what makes their children tick, mothers have been shown to plump for whichever nature or nurture theories most conveniently let them off the hook - largely, of course, to avoid guilt.
Those who work full time, for example, tend to believe that small children are resilient little poppets, capable of coping with what life throws at them, with no need to be mollycoddled by constant personal attention. They may feel that their toddler will actually benefit from being cared for by others when they are at work and, consequently, are unworried about leaving them. As long as the child's basic needs are met, his or her genetic uniqueness will flourish. These beliefs keep self- criticism at bay when leaving the child.
By contrast, when full-time mothers who have stayed at home are asked the same question, they tend towards the opposite of these beliefs. Their infants need constant one-to-one care from their biological mother, and without it they will be damaged. These mothers are much more anxious about leaving their toddler or baby with someone else. They place far more emphasis on mothering than genes and, again, these beliefs merge seamlessly with their choice (to stay at home).
Now here's the thing: the children of at least some of the mothers in both groups would probably benefit if their mums were to see the limits of their beliefs - and, at least in theory, guilt could be the spur. In the case of some full-time mums, for example, overprotectiveness or an intrusive overinvolvement in their child's life, both practically and emotionally, can have serious consequences. Although we are constantly being told that both major depression and schizophrenia are caused by genes, there is actually a potent body of evidence to show that parental care is at least as important. People with both of these mental illnesses are more likely to come from families where there was intrusive, overcontrolling care that left the child feeling invaded and with no room for the growth of autonomy. If guilt at monopolising her offspring made the mother realise her child needed more space, it could crucially affect its later mental health.
Similarly, working mothers who leave their infants and toddlers have to convince themselves that their child will be fine with the substitute carer. But the quality of that substitute is hugely important: if they are unresponsive or erratic, it promotes insecurity in adult relationships. Where guilt at leaving the child provokes the mother to ensure that the substitute care is as good as possible (given the obvious constraints of time and money), it would surely benefit the child.
The trouble is that most guilt does not lead to such benign changes. Rather, it simply results in parents feeling even more lousy than they already do. Lack of sleep and a terrifying loss of control over their lives soon causes most parents of infants to feel dysphoric (the opposite of euphoric). While guilt might be beneficial in a few cases, for the most part it simply makes matters worse.
What we need instead is insight. In particular, as parents, we need to understand how what was done to us is still affecting what we do, feel and think today. There is a very strong tendency for parents to repeat the mistakes their parents made. Often this is harmless and it can even be beneficial. But it can just as easily be destructive.
To take a crude example, the mother of Jean, a patient of mine, had a number of phobias, which Jean also shared. Both were terrified to sleep alone at night and it soon became apparent that the mother had induced this fear in Jean as a small girl by constantly asking her if she felt safe after tucking her up in bed.
Jean's fears disappeared after we had worked this out, but she was horrified when her own young daughter began to have similar fears. It was only some months later that she had a blinding insight - that she was inducing the same fears that her mother had projected on her.
Guilt would have been no use to Jean - she was already an over conscientious person. But, as was true in her case, all parents could benefit from performing an emotional audit of their past, and how it is still conditioning, even interfering, with their parenting present.
To do such an audit, you need to examine what actually went on during the first six years of your life and analyse the role that was scripted for you in the family drama. These can be linked to your present-day sense of self, patterns of relationship and conscience. Of course, few of us can recall much that occurred before the age of three, so you will have to be a detective, asking parents, siblings or anyone else who might have information. If you can carry out this audit, greater volition will be yours.
It may be that modern life could do with a little more guilt - it might make us less selfish and more law-abiding. But when it comes to parenting, there is no substitute for insight.
· To order a copy of Oliver James's They F*** You Up, for £14.99 plus p&p (rrp £16.99), call the Guardian book service on 0870 066 7979. Published by Bloomsbury.
