APtly Said – Page 47

I took back control of my Cesarean

Editor’s note: April is Cesarean Awareness Month, an international observance designed to reduce unnecessary Cesareans, advocate for Vaginal Birth After Cesarean (VBAC) and help women heal from the sometimes-difficult emotions surrounding a Cesarean birth. Attachment Parenting International‘s First Principle of Parenting: Prepare for Pregnancy, Birth and Parenting advocates for parents to research their options regarding childbirth choices. While API promotes choices with the least interventions possible, Cesareans are necessary in some situations. But a Cesarean does not need to prevent a gentle delivery:

When I was 7 months pregnant with my third baby, we learned that the baby was in breech position.

That had been my concern all along. My second baby had been breech as well, only we hadn’t found out until I was at the hospital in labor. Since I’d already had a vaginal delivery the first time around and now had a midwife and a doula, I felt confident about my ability to have a VBAC if my baby was in the right position. Apparently my baby had plans of her own.

My midwife gave me a list of 17 things to try over the next several weeks that might encourage the baby to flip. Searching the internet, I found half a dozen more, plus variations of several of them. I was incredibly overwhelmed. I felt like I had to try everything. What if I didn’t do one thing and that was the one that would have made the baby turn? What if I only did something twice a day when I should be doing it three or four or 10 times? What if I was doing it wrong altogether?

The idea of a second Cesarean had me overly stressed and anxious. I was so preoccupied with doing things that might help me avoid it that I felt like I was taking time away from my sons, and I wasn’t enjoying my pregnancy.

Finally my doula helped me realize that I couldn’t do everything. I had to pick the few things that felt right to me. I was still giving my baby plenty of opportunities to turn. My doula helped me remember that some babies simply don’t want to flip, or can’t for some reason.

For the rest of the pregnancy, I was able to focus on doing what felt right for my body and my baby. Hypnobabies helped me relax. I reminded myself that even if a chiropractic adjustment didn’t give the result I wanted, it was still good for my body. Instead of worrying about the things I tried not producing automatic results, I turned my attention to making the impending Cesarean a positive experience.

I took back control of my birth.

I researched gentle Cesareans, where the baby is walked out slowly, and created a Cesarean birth plan. I spoke with an obstetrician about my desire for immediate skin-to-skin contact and having the baby with me in the recovery room. He took the time to go through my birth plan with me and addressed his concerns in a fair, respectful way.

Going into the Cesarean, I was able to feel at peace, to feel prepared. Unlike with my previous Cesarean, which I didn’t know would happen in advance, this time I was lucky to be able to process the emotions surrounding it beforehand.

My baby girl was born on April 30, 2014, eight days after my oldest son turned 4 and 18 days after my second son turned 2. After the doctor told me my baby was a girl, everything became a blur. I do know that once they gave her to me, she never left my side. She rode with me to the recovery room and stayed there the whole time, nursing. All that night she wanted to stay cuddled up against me, and that was fine with me.

I took back control of my birth.

What presence means to me

Editor’s note: This post was originally published on Oct. 24, 2008, but it echoes a sentiment many Attachment Parenting parents have heard from well-meaning friends, family members and even strangers to take some time away from our infants and toddlers, without realizing that ample presence with our children may be exactly what gives us balance.

By Christina Geyer of An American Expat in Deutschland and Mamas Worldwide

I can’t count the number of times that someone has told me that I need to get out of the house without my son.

I’ve been told to get a regular babysitter or to put him in daycare, so that I can have time for myself. While I agree that moms do need time to themselves — I like to de-stress in a long bath with a book by my side once a week, and go to dinner and a movie with friends occasionally — I am happy to share my life with my 15-month-old son.

What does giving him my presence mean to me? It means allowing him to be present in my everyday life.

I am a stay-at-home mom. We are extended breastfeeding and cosleeping. We’re in playgroups — a German-speaking one and an English-speaking one. I also take him with me when I go to town, to the store, even to the doctor’s office, when possible. He joins me when I get a massage, sitting below the table, playing with blocks, smiling up at me every few minutes.

We eat at restaurants together. He doesn’t have a high chair with a tray, he sits right at the table with us, taking part in the family meal. I’m thankful that most places here in Germany, where we live, are kid-friendly. He loves to flirt with the waitresses, and he even tries to pay the bill.

By including my son in my everyday life, I feel I’m teaching him how to interact. He doesn’t act out like some children I’ve seen out, especially at restaurants. He sits and watches the faces of everyone around him. He laughs when we laugh and tries to eat like we eat. He happily eats sushi, caviar, all sorts of vegetables, octopus, mussels…all without even needing a bib. My friends invite us over to dinner so that their children will try new foods. They’ll say, “Look, the little guy likes it. Why don’t you give it a try?”

Now I know that some of this is just his easy-going personality and that we might have to peel spaghetti off the ceiling with our next child, but I think part of it is due to my, and my husband’s, willingness to share practically our whole lives with him. We love his company, and I think that this will help him to grow up loving our company as well.

Screentime and Attachment Parenting

There are issues that Attachment Parenting International (API) does not take a stance on — circumcision, vaccinations, cloth diapering and elimination communication, to name a few — and instead advocates for all parents to be informed when making parenting decisions that work best for their families. The same applies to choices about media access for children.

To me, Attachment Parenting (AP) doesn’t mean we’ll achieve perfection or that all AP parents will come to the same conclusions. It means we’ve made a commitment to inform ourselves and make conscious choices. We can all respectfully “agree to disagree” when parents have informed themselves and understand the pros and cons. Biases and prejudices should have very little — nothing! — to do with it. Have we considered the research? Have we carefully observed the dynamics in our own families? Can we tell whether media is connecting or disconnecting parents and children in our homes?

For my family, I want media to be an event, not a lifestyle. I want my kids to be able to happily go for weeks without using it! So occasionally, if I see symptoms of dependency, we go on “detox” and course-correct — basically by getting busy with other things. I want us — adults and children — to use media, not have it use us. And I certainly don’t want media — with all it’s commercial motivations — to cheat my kids out of time to be creative, to be helpful, to be thoughtful, to just be.

For us, that means once or twice a week, we consume a little media, mostly together. The other six days, it’s just not an option. That’s how we thrive best.

For some of my AP friends, that’s way more than the none they believe is best. Compared to other AP families, our media use is a fraction of what happens in their homes.

Information and discernment can lead us to our own version of balance. This can change depending on the age and stage of our children, which is completely aligned with API’s focus on the importance of understanding child development needs.

I think it’s important for parents to take a good, close look at the research and have an open, honest conversation with others. Instead of judging or lobbying for one “side” or another on media use, the focus can be on informing ourselves together. Just being willing to ask the question, knowing that answers may be variable, would be a great service to our AP communities.

I’m screaming at the top of my voice…can you hear me?

A very dear friend of mine nearly lost his sister to tragic circumstances 13 days ago. I can’t speak for her, for him or for their parents or friends. I can only share how this horribly sad situation is affecting me. As I ponder the despondence that chaperoned her down this harrowing and dark course, I can’t help but reflect upon my own life and the lives of the ones I love. I’m questioning everything and yet, I feel as though I understand.

One of the messages I thread through much of my writing and through my actions is the need for each of us, from birth, to be heard. To be seen. To be understood. I can’t say it enough, and I find that it applies to any and every situation I come across.

Since the moment I first gave birth, I somehow instinctively understood this and it’s the constant force behind my patience, my understanding, my listening, my love. It is the feeling that led me to Attachment Parenting without even knowing what that meant. If only we each had this gift from another, I truly believe, things would be different. We would be different. We wouldn’t be desperately longing for the kind of connection to nurture our soul in ways that only one where someone truly hears us, provides. The love and acceptance we long for outside of ourselves appear much differently when we truly accept and embrace the love we first need for ourselves.

When I witness someone suffering, including myself, I realize that we are either too afraid to share our pain, we allow ourselves to be honest and vulnerable and we are then judged, misunderstood or dismissed, or we really don’t have anyone we feel connected to and trust in such a way to provide the necessary space we need for the disclosure. Some also unconsciously bury the pain so deep that they pretend and act as if it doesn’t even exist. They create worlds and scenarios that camouflage their suffering even deeper. They believe that if anyone knew, they would die. The shame. The fear. The secrets. Each of these will kill us before the shock of anyone finding out the truth will.

Whichever reality it is, they all lead us down the same path. We end up feeling frightened. Ashamed. Unworthy. Isolated. Alone. We are too afraid to ask for help, and we often feel we have the tools to manage it all. On our own. Eventually.

We then continue on with secrets and delicate, sometimes beautiful facades to protect ourselves from anyone ever knowing the truth. In many cases, we clearly hear and see the desperate cries for help. We see the reckless, unabashed behavior and we do our best to lend a hand. Take control. Offer advice, guidance, comfort, love, support. We talk amongst each other as we scramble for answers. We may get lucky enough to save them from themselves. We may not.

In other cases, you would never know of the pain and struggles one faces. Their facades are not as transparent. You might believe you know them. Their truth. Their smiling face and laborious achievements may prove that they are all powerful and strong beyond anything you could imagine. You might even envy them. They, too, are silently suffering in some way. We all are. I believe.

Another unfortunate sufferance I presume we each face at some point is the feeling of not being good enough. We compare ourselves to others and we allow the persuasive “less than” feeling to hold us back. I know I do. I often wish this obtrusive and provoking noise would evaporate into the air from which it came. It loves to make appearances though: Just when I think I’m strong and free, it stops in to challenge me yet again.

I am a very sensitive person and I feel everything. Acutely. Deeply. Profoundly. It doesn’t take a tragedy to awaken me to how precious this life is or how fortunate I am to live each moment I am given here. That said, it is in times of distress and tribulation when we are most aware and most vulnerable to receive the lessons we are meant to, if we allow ourselves to feel and experience all of it. If we can truly understand that we are all connected. Our energy affects everything and everyone.

My wish is for each of us to recognize and understand that we are not perfect. We don’t have to be perfect. We each have a purpose and our own unique being with which to carry that out. We can ask for help when we need it. We are good enough. We are worthy of love. We are transcendent.

If we are fortunate enough to know each other already or we are still yet to cross paths in this lifetime or another, I want you to know that I see you. I hear you. I love you.

❤ Sandy

Nurturing touch beyond babywearing

Use Nurturing Touch is one of Attachment Parenting International‘s Eight Principles of Parenting. With a baby, there are so many ways to put this into practice: babywearing, breastfeeding, the fact that babies want to be held most of the time anyway. But as my son has grown older, he’s become less and less interested in hugs, kisses, back rubs and other types of nurturing touch that naturally follow in the toddler years.

He’s almost 5 now, and it’s a challenge for me to still remember his need for physical touch and to find creative ways to meet that need.

I try to make a point to do small physical gestures — a high-five or a silly, exaggerated handshake — and to engage in more physical play with him or just be close to him during playtime. Sometimes, I pretend that he — not his sister — is the baby, and I playfully pick him up, rock him or carry him on my hip. That usually gets a giggle from him.

Most importantly for us, though, I’ve found that a big part of nurturing touch means also respecting my son’s desire not to be touched. If he doesn’t want to hug me or if he pushes my hand away when I go to rub his head at bedtime, I listen to him and I don’t take it personally. I understand that it’s not what he needs at that moment and that it’s important for me not to force it. I know that he, like me, is very sensitive to touch and only wants to be touched on his own terms.

I think it’s important for me to at least offer a hug. There are times when he will accept the hug, and even if he doesn’t, I feel that it lets him know that I’m willing to connect with him that way.

I’m sure that as he gets older it will get even harder to connect with him through nurturing touch, but I hope that I can continue to show my love in the ways that he needs.

Using presence to raise independent children

Editor’s note: This post was originally published on Oct. 22, 2008, but it carries a timeless message of the payoffs of giving presence to our children, allowing them to develop independence on their own developmental timeline.

By Kayris Wall of The Great Walls of Baltimore and Mommy, What’s For Dinner?

One day, when my son was a baby, I took him to the grocery store. He started to cry, and as I lifted him out of his car seat, a strange woman walked by. “If you do that every time he cries, he’ll never learn to be independent,” she said over her shoulder.

I was a brand-new mom and hadn’t developed my laser-like Mind Your Own Business stare yet, so I mumbled something about him being hungry. As I watched her walk away, I thought to myself, Is she kidding? He’s only 2 months old. He’s not supposed to be independent!

That baby just turned 4 years old recently, and has been joined by a sister, now almost 2 years old. Sometimes I still think about that stranger in the grocery store. I wish I would run into her again so I could show her my independent, friendly, confident little boy and tell her, “See this? It’s because I’ve always been there for him.”

I’m not claiming to be a perfect parent by any means. I have my strengths and my many, many weaknesses. The most difficult one by far is controlling my quick temper and being patient instead. It’s something I struggle with daily. But if there is one thing that I’m absolutely confident that I’m doing right, it’s that my children know that I’m there for them when they need me.

Until recently, I was primarily a stay-at-home mom. In the beginning, I provided the most basic needs to my infant son. I breastfed him when he was hungry, changed him when he was wet, rocked him to sleep when he was tired. I spent hours just holding him, and he went everywhere with me. It was fun. He was my little buddy. Two years later, our duo expanded when I had another baby, and my son was always there when I nursed, rocked and changed his sister.

Sometimes it was lonely and I felt isolated a lot, but seeing the end result makes it worth it. Beyond feeding and changing and snuggling, I was there when my son brought me an acorn and asked, “What’s this thing?” I was there to bandage their wounds when they fell, help them learn to climb steps, to tie shoes and wipe noses. There were a lot of times when they didn’t need me, but I was there on the sidelines in a benign fashion, just in case they did. When they are grown and look back to the early years of their lives, I hope they’ll always see my presence, even if it’s just as a shadowy figure around the outskirts.

In the past year, I picked up some daytime hours at my part-time job. While I’m working, my mom stays with my children. This past September, my son started preschool three days a week. Both transitions went smoothly; in fact, the separation was harder on me than it was on my kids! But I am convinced that these first years, those times in which I was never far away, helped shape them into independent, adaptable little people and that is why they were just fine was I was suddenly not there. They knew that I would come back.

I’m not advocating that all mothers quit their jobs to become stay-at-home parents. I enjoy my time away, I’m good at my job, and I like what I do. And as my children grow and parenting them becomes more complex, I find that working outside of the home helps make me a better parent. This is partly because I can interact with other adults and gain perspective from other parents, but also because the time that I do have with them is that much more precious. It makes it that much easier to put aside my to-do list and to focus 100% of my attention on them.

My son is thriving in school, and I’m so impressed with the program he is in that I may sign my daughter up for the 3-year-old program next fall. Eventually, both will be in school full time, both will make friends, play sports and not need my presence in the same way that they do now. But it’s okay, because they will both be prepared to go out into the world, knowing that they are loved and cherished. They will be ready. And I will be ready, too.

Second child adjustments, and judgments

As I heard the voices grow louder and the confrontation was escalating, I approached my 9-year-old daughter’s room. She exclaimed at her younger brother: “Ugh… You are so annoying! How is it possible? How am I even related to you?” I was startled by the harsh words.

I understood her frustration. It seems as though her brother, almost three years her junior, has made it his mission in recent weeks to get under her skin. And he succeeded! But I was not pleased with her choice of words. I explained that I understand her frustration and suggested she use other words to express her feelings.

As I turned and walked away, I shook my head and chuckled. She did have a good point: My daughter and her brother were conceived from the same genetic pool and are raised in the same household, yet their personalities are so distinct. I was reminded of the realizations my second child blessed me with.

My daughter was a high-needs baby. Then, around the age of 2 1/2, her fussiness seemed dissipate as she blossomed into a content, independent and cooperative child.

In comparison, my son was an easy-going baby. I thought I had “conquered” parenthood and found the perfect balance between nurturing and discipline. But my son put a deep dent in my thoughts around the age of 2. While my daughter was a determined toddler with the typical tantrums, my son took determination and defiance to a whole new level. He was also physically aggressive. Communicating was not an issue as he used sign language by the age of 6 months and spoke at an early age, so I believe the difference was due to innate tendencies.

Nevertheless, I was not prepared. The parenting approaches that worked so well with my daughter were not effective with my son.

In response to my son’s aggressive manners, my sister said that if she didn’t know us, she would assume that we are aggressive, even physical, in our home. That comment turned on a light bulb for me and I wondered, Are these the kind of judgments people make about my family?

I wasn’t troubled by other people’s opinion of me or my family; I had already endured ample criticism about my parenting style. What bothered and embarrassed me was the notion that I may have been guilty of judging other parents. What I learned is that I ought to reserve assumptions and judgments of other parents. We are all facing challenges and have unique situations.

In nursery school, at a parent-teacher conference, I inquired with my son’s teacher if she witnessed any aggressive behavior. Her face displayed a sense of confusion as if she didn’t understand why this question was brought up. If I could read her mind, she may have thought: What child are you talking about? She responded that he was gentle and never showed aggression toward another child.

Another light bulb turned on: I understood that our parenting approach at home was not effective as his behavior at school and that we had to make changes to see a difference in my son’s behavior at home. We implemented different strategies at home, emphasizing more consistency, boundaries and encouragement. We are still trying to strike the “perfect” approach with our son.

This insight was valuable when my son started Kindergarten, where it was even more evident that my kids’ learning habits, skills and interests are as distinct as their personalities.

Today, when I disclose to my friends who know my son well that he was very physical as a toddler, they display a familiar confused face. This time, that expression puts a smile on my face. I treasure the realizations he led me to:

As parents, we should know better than to cast judgments on other parents, as we are not aware of the situations and circumstances other families are facing nor do they really matter.
As parents of multiple children, we need recognize and embrace that each child has his or her unique personality and needs to be engaged accordingly.

Compassion, balance and truth in parenting

Compassion.

What does this word mean to you?

I see compassion as being open to seeking the truth in any given moment. As a parent, I am constantly invited inward in order to seek my truth. Our children and partners have their own truths. It can be challenging when I am forced to find the truth that lies within each person in my family.

Truth.

What does this word mean to you? It may mean being honest, open and vulnerable. It might mean only speaking what you know to be right or it could mean a variety of other different options.

Truth, as I am speaking of now, is the inner voice that each person brings into the world. It is that innate wisdom that we each hold. It is the intuition that guides us forward as we are making decisions within our lives.

Our children are born with their own truths, and as parents, we are invited to take part in assisting our kids as they open to that guidance. Compassion arises when we are open to seeking out those truths.

“Compassion is the basis of all truthful relationship. It means being present with love for ourselves and all of life.” ~ Ram Doss

This quote is one that resonated with me the minute I heard it. The words brought on a new level as I began to understand how they may play out in my role as a parent. It reminded me of one of Attachment Parenting International‘s Eight Principles of Parenting — Strive for Personal and Family Balance — for it is when we are in love with ourselves that we can find what is needed to nurture another.

Finding balance and taking time for my needs has been one of the most challenging aspects to the role of being a parent.

When my daughters were both under the age of 5, I thought that taking time to myself was a joke. How could any parent do that? Don’t we need to be fully engaged with our children all the time no matter what?

I could not have been further from my truth. What I was missing in my thinking was that when I took time to engage in activities that nourished me, I was able to offer myself compassion…which leads to hearing my wisdom…which allows me to be fully present to my children and their truths.

What I needed in those early years was permission to allow for self-compassion. I needed to know that not only was it OK for me to take a few moments to myself, but it was absolutely vital.

Compassion requires balance and a willingness to be available to yourself. This is the key to my parenting that has served me well as my daughters are growing older.

The beauty is that I have taken the steps to implement this message into my daily routines and my daughters have both been witnesses to this. They have seen what it looks like when I am in balance and what it looks like when I am a mess — yes, those days happen! From those observations, my children are empowered to find what is needed for them to be centered, mindful and aware of their own truth.