APtly Said – Page 55

Love works for everybody

When I see the debate among people about parenting and the different tools and methods, the way most arguments seem to finish is “…but whatever works for the family.”

I’ve been thinking about this, and it just doesn’t make sense.

Spanking works for nobody, no matter how you slice it. It’s just a quick fix and, truly, not even that. It’s cheating at not only parenting, but being a human being toward other other humans.

How we treat and raise today’s children becomes tomorrow’s reality.

Spanking works for nobody, but love works for everybody.

Trust

Whenever I encounter turbulence on my maiden voyage of parenting, I take solace in reminding myself of one really crucial ingredient of Attachment Parenting: trust.

Trust is both an awesome gift and an incredible challenge, one that we receive and take on as part of the mantle of parenthood.

We witness it in the eyes of our nursing infant child as he gazes up at us with unquestioning faith, and again in the wild abandon with which our toddler runs and leaps into our arms, never for a moment imagining we won’t be ready to catch him. We feel it in those fleeting precious moments of deep vulnerability, basking in the warm renewing glow of usefulness when our older child comes to us for help and advice, or simply to share with us those priceless ordinary details of her day.

So much of what we do as parents is to inspire and preserve our child’s trust in us. But what of our trust in them?

Trust is something I struggle with, something I don’t give easily or quickly. It takes time for me trust a new person.

I sometimes catch myself tallying up moralistic judgments of others in an attempt to determine if they have “earned” my trusting allegiance. I try to assure myself, “Trust doesn’t come freely, and why should it?” After a lifetime of perceived let-downs, disappointments, betrayals, trauma, abandonment and false hopes, it’s my right to withhold trust and guard its bestowal with fiery jealousy.

Isn’t it…?

Parenthood has, for me, called into question that whole paradigm of earned trust. What does my baby have to do to “prove” to me her cries of hunger or loneliness or tiredness are legit?

That’s a fairly ridiculous proposition. Even assuming her coy-eyed whimpers are less-than-wholehearted appeals for connection, she is trusting me to respond. Perhaps my work of parenting would be much less daunting if I viewed it with more of an eye toward mutual trust.

When I stop analyzing whether things are age-appropriate, gender-neutral, fair, clean or correct…

When I let the honesty and joy in my daughter’s face be my guide…

When I go to her when she cries for me…

When I stand by her even when she pushes me away…

When I let her leave a mostly full plate of food untouched, because she tells me she’s all done…

…I am acting from a place of trust.

I still have much work to do, and it’s up to me to work through trust issues with support so they don’t prove to be a barrier to the relationship with my daughter. But each time I let go and trust, I can feel our relationship grow deeper, stronger, more alive.

So while my rapidly growing 9-month-old is grappling with the question of whether the world is a trustworthy place, I am learning anew how to give trust and trust myself.

And here’s what I’ve learned so far: Trust works. Trust me.

It’s not called permissive parenting

The Leader

Editor’s note: This post was originally published on Sept. 23, 2008, but it serves to remind parents how Attachment Parenting differs from permissive parenting.

The world is full of followers, but you’re not one of them. ~J.L. Glass

I recently attended a seminar taught by motivational speaker J.L. Glass — a very funny, charismatic speaker at that — and he mentioned that he tells his kids that. It got me to thinking about all of the messages we give our children, both verbally and through our actions, and how much of our parenting, good and bad, we inherited from our parents.

Growing up, we may have thought that we would do things way different than our parents. By the time we become parents ourselves, we realize that our parents had reasons for the way that they did things.

And now we raise our own children in our own home with our values and morals, and then they go out into the world and we hope for the best. They are exposed to many things outside of the home that we would not necessarily choose for them: maybe it’s popular music, or fashion, or junk food, or the desire for more consumer goods, or whatever.

Part of parenting is letting go and trusting them to make decisions for themselves.

So how do you get to that point of trust?

Well, to generalize, there seem to be two main parenting styles:

Controlling everything, and
Letting the child control everything.

Some parents decide everything for their child, from their food choices to their friends and activities. I grew up with some of that, and I resented not being able to choose.

But I’ve also seen some parents that let their kids choose anything, and the parents get run all over by them. In my humble opinion, giving a child free rein doesn’t seem to be very effective in the long run.

I think there’s a middle ground that is respectful to the parents and the child, and that effectively teaches the skills for family living and future involvement with the rest of society. And this is where Attachment Parenting fits.

Some of the parenting guidelines that have worked for my family include:

Our actions must be in line with our words — If we tell a child one thing and then do another, what do they learn from that? I got called on this by my daughter recently, and I learned something from her. Imitation is how children learn almost everything, and their sense of integrity comes from our own.
Our children must know that they are loved — Distinguishing between your child and your child’s action is super important. A child is never bad. They may misbehave or make mistakes, but they are still our beloved child, doing the best they can. And they need to hear that they are loved, often.
Our children must have some choices — They do need to be able to control a tiny part of the universe, even if it’s only choosing which plate to eat from. Being able to make compromises so that everyone’s needs are met is a cornerstone of a strong family.
We must openly communicate about our expectations — If they don’t know what is not acceptable, children can’t be held accountable for their actions. We are the parents. It’s up to us to teach them.
No bribery — We don’t bribe our kids or offer them rewards for promising “good” behavior.
Setting clear boundaries is also freedom — It’s kind of like baby-proofing a room. When children know their boundaries, they are free to explore in a safe environment. We also have time limits for things like movies or internet access, so they get some of what they want, while we get some of what we want, like no couch potatoes.
We must stand behind our words — If we have clear expectations for behavior, and clear consequences for misbehavior, then we need to be firm in administering them. No free passes… One of the consequences in our family for disrespectful behavior is doing extra chores. Our reasoning is, if we want to be able to enjoy all of the good things as a family, we all have to play our part and help out. If we have a child throwing a tantrum about not getting their way, then our whole family is affected by it. Pitching in to help with the not-so-fun stuff works for us. Usually they calm down about halfway through the chores, and they realize that they actually have it pretty darn good most of the time.
Speak positive words and give kudos for good behavior — Just acknowledging the tiny bits of growth that happen everyday is uplifting to kids. A kind word is a powerful thing. We internalize the messages we get, so let’s help by spreading more love and less criticism. Praising the positive and encouraging it in our children ultimately takes way less energy than focusing on the negative behavior.

All you need is love…well, and some positive discipline.

Image: Hamed Saber at Flickr under Creative Commons

Don’t blame the baby

When I am pregnant, I can sleep anywhere, anytime. I’d love to just sleep through the first two-thirds of pregnancy. I could fall asleep on the stairs, on the way to bed. I could even rest up for 12 long hours at night and still be able to take a nice morning nap.

But there was one thing that kept me awake at night, staring at the ceiling: my son’s warm body snuggled next to mine, with his arm draped over my growing belly.

I’d pull him closer to me and think, “What have I done? How is this going to rock his world? What is going to happen to my relationship with him?”

The “what ifs” scrolled through my mind at a dizzying speed. How was I possibly going to be able to handle mothering two children, especially when one would be a needy newborn?

Each of my children have been carefully and loving planned, but the moment that stick turned blue, the excitement was mixed with worry and doubt. I was doing the right thing for our family, right? As my belly grew, I wrestled with that question.

I loved growing up with a sibling and so would my son, I reasoned with myself. Lots of people have two children and somehow make it work, so I will be able to, too. Alongside each of those comforting thoughts, the worrisome thoughts fought for my attention. My sister and I didn’t get along until she moved out. Were we on the cusp of 15 years of fighting?

I started talking to my friends who had multiple children and asking them, how they did it? Often their comfort was well-meaning but not always helpful. I heard, “Oh, it just works out. You’ll be fine,” a lot. But I needed something more concrete. The devil on my shoulder kept saying, “Just because they are fine doesn’t mean you will be!”

With enough digging and prodding, I did eek out some tangible advice from my wonderful friends. Sitting on the beach at a lake near my home, one friend said, “Don’t blame the baby.” Huh? Thankfully she went on to explain what became the most helpful advice I’ve ever gotten about being a mother of more than one.

Don’t blame the baby.

When you are pregnant and sick, don’t blame the baby. Tell your child you just aren’t feeling too well today, but that’s normal for mommies sometimes.

After the baby is born and you need to sit on the sofa and feed your sweet newborn, don’t blame the baby. Tell your child, “I need to sit here for a little bit. Will you pick out a book for me to read to you?”

Blaming the baby encourages your older child to feel jealous. Before that stinkin’ baby came along, Mommy was much more fun!

I had an easy birth with my second child and was so lucky to have both my husband and son in the room — along with many other helping hands! My son was enthralled, mesmerized and inspired…

…for five minutes. After admiring his new brother, he was ready to play. Ready to go back to life as always.

In those first moments and first days, I started to see, to believe, that it was going to be okay. I even started to see a glimpse that it was going to be more than okay. We were embarking on a great new journey together as a family. Bring on the joy!

Like all journeys, we’ve had some unexpected turns, some bumps in the road and some vistas unlike we ever dreamed of seeing. We’ve also come to some crossroads and needed to make decisions.

One unexpected twist in the path to sibling harmony has been in the lack of support we’ve found in children’s books. So many children’s books encourage jealousy and show fighting siblings as the norm. Through careful selection, we’ve managed to present a different world to our boys. With the Boxcar children, Magic Treehouse, Wild Kratts and many others, we’ve been able show our boys a world where siblings support and love each other.

Family is a topic of daily dialog in our home. We talk about families and the place each person has and how important each person is in our family.

None of this insulates us from squabbling between siblings. There are still arguments over Legos and protests of “It’s not fair!” But woven through our family, there is something greater: love.

My boys love each other, through and through, no matter what happens. It has taken a lot of work and conscious effort and trying things to see what works. And now we’re starting on the next chapter in this book of family and have added a little sister to the mix.

When she is nursing and gazing up at me with those big, beautiful baby eyes, I lean in and whisper to her, “You’re so lucky! You have two wonderful brothers who can’t wait to play with you!”

Whose kid was that?

Editor’s note: This post was originally published on Sept. 16, 2008, but serves as a great reminder for any parent who’s been faced with a tantrumming child in public.

“I’m a parent educator. I’m a mom of four. I am an advocate for all things Attachment Parenting. I should be able to handle this. So, what the heck am I doing wrong?”

These are the thoughts running through my head at the grocery store the other day.

The store is being remodeled. It is glaringly bright, noisy and busy. The aisles are a crazy maze of disorganization. I have little, 6-month-old T-Bird in a sling, while 5-year-old Bug is doing her best to keep up with me, behave and be curious. The inarticulate “wonk wonk wonk” of the store manager is blaring out of the announcement system and competing with the world’s most annoying music.

All of this is completely grinding on my very last nerve.

T-Bird is her usual, content self and smiles happily at every face she sees from her sling.

Bug, however, has always been less content in these situations. She is much more sensitive to light, sound and disorganization. Even as a very little baby, we recognized that Bug needed things to be a little more quiet, a bit more calm and a lot more toned down.

This was where practicing Attachment Parenting (AP) became invaluable to us.

Bug didn’t like to be close all of the time as a baby. So, we couldn’t depend on babywearing or breastfeeding to be a cure-all with her. But Bug did love being near us so that she could quietly observe us, then practice the skills she had observed.

It became clear to us that Bug absorbed all of the things happening around her equally and that the two most important jobs we had as parents were to help her discern important information from background noise and to model appropriate behaviors.

If we hadn’t been able to respond to her with patience, compassion and understanding, life with Bug would have been much more difficult and frustrating.

She was my third baby, so I was able to recognize that her needs were a little more…ahem…demanding than my first two babies. But I accepted that this was just Bug and her unique personality.

I often try to imagine what might have become of Bug if she had been born into a different family. These thoughts always make me terribly sad — not just because I would have missed out on a wild ride and knowing an incredibly creative kid, but because there is nothing that makes her more upset than being misunderstood. And without AP, Bug would certainly be misunderstood.

So, here I have just dragged Bug into a situation that I know is almost impossible for her to handle. She is skipping and singing loudly in the store in an attempt to compete with the noise and activity surrounding her. The chaos is getting to me as well.

I feel the tightness in my jaw and notice the snippy edge to my voice as I remind Bug to stay close. I could swear that the noise went up an decibel or two. We are winding around abandoned shopping carts, other shoppers and remodeling debris. Bug runs head-on into a woman’s legs. I apologize to her while trying to laugh it off and blame it on the “crazy construction.”

I can read Bug’s face: She is embarrassed to have run into that lady and is worried that I am upset. I smile at her tell her that she is my favorite 5 year old. She groans out loud and starts to open and close the freezer door repeatedly in response.

Not good.

I decide that we have had enough and I need to get all of us out of there while we are still sane. I know that I can always come back later or send my hubby if we still need something. My first responsibility is to be a sensitive parent, and Bug needs me to be that parent now. I’m kicking myself for not getting out five minutes ago.

Bug closes the freezer door one last time and follows me as I begin heading to the check-out. She is lagging behind and practicing her best lazy-legged shuffle. This time, I make the effort to use my most friendly, cheerful voice to remind Bug to stay close. She stops dead in her tracks. Arms crossed.

Oh no.

“Listen to me, Mom! I have had enough of you telling me what to do in this big, stupid store!” she shouts. Really loudly.

The younger, less confident version of me would have been mortified as the other shoppers snapped out of their shopping daze to judge my parenting skills. My ego screams for me to prove to these onlookers that I don’t tolerate this sort of behavior. My knee-jerk response almost bursts out of me: words meant to strip my child of her dignity in order to restore the good opinion of a bunch of strangers.

But I, the parent educator, the mother of four, the advocate for all things AP, can ignore the silent accusations and do what I need to do: be the parent Bug needs me to be. I take a deep breath and mentally flip through Pam Leo’s book Connection Parenting. I remind myself that Bug needs to feel a connection with me right now, not endure a lecture on how she should be behaving.

“Whose kid is that?” I gasp dramatically, while feigning a look of worry. “Where is my precious Bug? What have you done with her? I came here with Bug and now there is only this poor, tired kid who speaks so disrespectfully.”

Bug giggles at my silliness. I make a show of looking all around. I pick her up and look under her as she giggles some more. I manage to slip in a bit of a hug while I pretend to look behind her.

With T-Bird in the sling on my chest, I squat down to make eye contact with Bug. Here comes my Oscar for Best Supporting Mom in a Grocery Store…

“Oh! My little girl is back! Thank goodness! I was so worried while you were gone. This poor, tired kid showed up and said awful things to me! I sure hope that kid finds her parents and gets a hug.”

I get a big smile in response. I never even look around to see what all of those people think. I have to live with my children and the consequences of my parenting. My fellow shoppers are a blip in my day. My children are depending on me to be consistent and on their side.

We get out of there and go home to tell her Daddy all about the dramatic kid-mixing-up incident.

Birth education matters

By Lysa Parker and Barbara Nicholson, cofounders of Attachment Parenting International and coauthors of Attached at the Heart

It’s important to remember that a one-time class at a local hospital won’t come close to giving you all the important information you need to be prepared for childbirth.

For the best birth outcomes, parents need to be informed and active participants in all decisions that have to be made, as well as the birth.

To encourage positive birth outcomes, Lamaze International has identified six care practices, adapted from the World Health Organization, that promote, support and protect normal birth. When adopted, these care practices can have a profound effect: instilling confidence in the mother and facilitating a process that results in an active, healthy baby. These care practice include:

Labor Begins on Its Own — Labor is a set of complex, interacting components. Alteration of the natural process can expose a woman and her baby to unneeded risks.

Freedom of Movement throughout Labor — Free movement during labor allows a woman to tolerate contractions and assist the baby’s rotation and movement through the pelvis.

Continuous Labor Support — Current research supports the benefits of continuous emotional and physical support during labor.

No Routine Interventions — Supporting the natural, normal, physiologic process of birth requires clear medical indications prior to any medical intervention.

Spontaneous Pushing in Upright or Gravity-Neutral Positions — Allowing a woman to find the positions of comfort and encouraging her to push in response to what she is feeling is beneficial to the birth process.

No Separation of Mother and Baby, with Unlimited Opportunities for Breastfeeding — When a baby is kept with the mother, there are physiological benefits to both, including the facilitation of breastfeeding.

Lamaze International recommends that care providers, hospitals and birth centers adopt these six practices as standards of care and encourages women and their families to choose care providers and birth settings that employ care practices that promote, support and protect normal birth.

In 1972, a study was published in the book, Why Natural Childbirth? The author, Dr. Deborah Tanzer, was a student of Dr. Abraham Maslow, the theorist who developed the Hierarchy of Needs scale and the theory of the “peak experience,” which he defined what makes life worthwhile and gives it meaning.

Dr. Tanzer was curious about mothers who were delivering babies by the then-“new” method of natural childbirth, which was being touted as a rapturous experience by some mothers.

In her studies, Dr. Tanzer found that as soon as the natural childbirth classes were completed, the women who had taken them showed greatly improved attitudes toward their pregnancies. Five times as many women reporting positive emotions after the birth had taken the childbirth classes.

Another important finding was that the childbirth class takers felt they were much closer to being the type of people they wanted to be. In other words, their self-images were enhanced.

Ironically, the childbirth class takers — most of whom had little-to-no analgesia — reported significantly less pain than the non-childbirth class takers. Almost equal numbers of the two groups reported high pain, but the childbirth class takers outnumbered non-childbirth class takers by eight to one in registering low pain.

The issue that greatly interested Dr. Tanzer was the experience of a peak or rapturous experience. No one in the group that did not take the childbirth classes reported this kind of ecstatic experience, but 10 of the takers in this study did. Overwhelmingly, it was the women whose husbands or partners were with them at both labor and delivery who reported a peak experience.

In summary, here are some of the key points from her research:

Certain fears, feelings, fantasies, needs and responses seem to be common to all women.
By the introduction of natural childbirth, the character of the total birth experience is changed radically and in a highly positive direction.
These differences in childbirth experiences included how the mother viewed herself, the baby and the meaning of the experience. The women in the natural childbirth group emerged happier and healthier.
The biggest and most positive differences became apparent in the later stages of labor and during the actual birth of the baby, when the woman could begin to push and thus help to expel the baby.

The act of pushing, sense of meaningful activity, participation in the great drama of the delivery room, ability to welcome her new child in full consciousness, joy in accomplishment — these seem to be the truly important facets of natural childbirth and, for these mothers, were the ultimate in a “peak experience.”

Interestingly, we’ve talked to many women through the years who attended natural childbirth classes, yet for various reasons did not have the “perfect birth” experience that they had wanted. Those women seem to have an easier time dealing with their disappointment than those who wonder what might have happened if they had been more prepared.

It seems to be harder on a mother to accept a disappointing or difficult birth when she was not informed enough about the process of labor and delivery, and the doctor was allowed to make all the decisions.

We feel strongly that birth is such a transformative and empowering experience that each pregnant mother deserves to have the best information, enabling her to make the best decisions for her and her baby. The critical time to gather this information is well before the birth.

Because breastfeeding is normal

For some, breastfeeding doesn’t come easily. I, for one, have shed my fair share of tears over the challenging journey that it has been at times.

Yet, even though I have seen the negatives — even though I have been shamed, ridiculed and challenged about nursing my daughter — I support breastfeeding.

Even though there have been times that I have felt defined by nothing other than my breasts, and even though it has been one of the hardest experiences of my life, I support breastfeeding.

Why?

Because breastfeeding is normal.

I have been lucky enough to collate together many pictures from families across the globe as part of the #ISupportBreastfeeding project. With each new photograph, I see a recurring theme: the concept of connection. Breastfeeding doesn’t only connect us to our children; it also connects us to one another.

In a world where breastfeeding is so often seen as divisive, the thought that it actually unites us with other mothers is simply a revelation. I am proud to be a part of this movement; I am proud to help normalize the normal.

Introducing four generations of breastfeeding support:

“We support breastfeeding, because it’s best for our babies, it nurtures, it bonds and is natural. It’s sometimes a real struggle and can be painful, needing even more support and encouragement. It connects and unifies us with other women worldwide from the beginning to the end of time…“

This is what it’s all about, right? These breastfeeding supporters range in age from 7 months to 96 years. What an incredible testament to the concept of a journey! What a beautiful glimpse into the concept of family…into the notion of togetherness.

As I look at this picture, I feel inspired. Inspired to really own my personal journey. Inspired to create the right path forward for my family. Inspired to support those around me.

Messy, glorious motherhood

They say when you become a mom, you change. I am sure just about every one of us has experienced that. It is awe-inspiring to come to the realization that just as our actions shape our children, our interactions with our children also continue to shape us.

My heart loves more deeply, my mind works more creatively — albeit a little slower at times — and my life seems all the more vibrant since embarking on my journey as a mother.

The other day, I had a revelation of sorts.

No mother likes to see her child suffer. A sick child is like a stone upon the heart of the mother. Her heart becomes heavy, and their pain becomes hers. Even as I type this, my child lays sleeping next to me after another night of unrest. It is cold and flu season, and this is nothing new. However, my perspective is.

I have come to find that, even in the most unpleasant of parenting moments, my heart is still full and the moments are nonetheless glorious. Now don’t get me wrong — I hate seeing my child not feeling well, but there is undoubtedly still beauty to be found even when the situation is of less savory nature.

Yesterday, for instance, I had just gotten my 3-year-old daughter down for a nap. She had slept poorly the night before, and I lay next to her softly stroking her hair, preparing to drift off myself. I said a silent prayer of thanks that she was able to get some much needed rest. I lay there, inhaling the sweet scent of baby shampoo that I have come to love so dearly.

She had been sleeping for no more than five minutes when she began another violent coughing spell. I rubbed her back and whispered words of comfort, hoping it would be over soon and that she would drift back to sleep.

In a matter of seconds, however, I found myself sliding my arms underneath of her and throwing her over my shoulder as she began to vomit from coughing so much. Her eyes filled with tears, she began to sob out of fear and vomit slowly poured down my back onto the freshly changed sheets.

We sat a few moments…both scared and shaken. I rocked and consoled her and then cleaned her up before carrying her to the couch for cuddles and cartoons.

What struck me so vividly in that moment, however, was what it felt like to be so loved and so needed that for a minute: I was all that mattered to this precious child. Her love and need for me is so much that even though my presence may not be able to physically make things better — I can’t take away her cough or her fever — in that moment it was all she needed…to know that because I was there, everything was going to be fine.

What a privilege it is to mean so much to someone.

As she looked up at me with those big blue eyes, arms still clasped around my neck, she said, “Thank you mommy, I love you.” And with that, I knew that this was a moment to be treasured.

Despite the fact that I was covered in vomit and that I had just washed the sheets, I never once thought, “I need a shower,” or “Well, this sucks.” I simply thought how lucky I am to be the one holding my child. How lucky I am to be the recipient of such pure love. How lucky I am to be a mom.

Motherhood is messy, motherhood is hard, motherhood is challenging but motherhood is so very GLORIOUS!