Transitions in Attachment Parenting: Infancy to Toddlerhood, Part 2

We are continuing this series with two more of the most common challenges of transitioning from infancy to toddlerhood as your baby grows. Here is what parents had to say …

imgp1215What do you find most challenging about transitioning from using AP in infancy to using AP in toddlerhood?

Challenge: Criticism and lack of support

  • Outside influences concern me, as well as feeling the pressure in public when maintaining boundaries.
  • Other people’s comments!
  • Simply having to deal with others’ reactions to various principles of AP. People are much more vocal with their opinions when you use gentle, positive discipline as opposed to physical punishment with a toddler. It becomes less acceptable to be responsive and sensitive to a child’s needs.
  • Realizing that for the most part, we don’t live in an AP-friendly society. Support and encouragement can be hard to find if you are doing everything quite differently compared to the majority of people in a community.
  • Not having a partner who embraces positive discipline.
  • Enacting positive discipline and feeling the distinct difference in parenting choices with peers.
  • Outside opinions
  • It’s hard to explain to people that you ARE teaching your toddler right from wrong; that it just might not look like it because you aren’t using traditional discipline and punishment.
  • Spousal and family support

Tip: Find a network of support.
Being able to connect to a group of like-minded parents is invaluable. Whether it’s online, in person or some combination of both, make sure you have someone you can turn to when you need a boost of encouragement. API offers a variety of way to connect with attachment-minded moms and dads, so you can always find a source for support. Many API leaders have started groups in their hometowns precisely because they are the ones looking for support! Local AP chapter meetings, telephone leader support, online forums, social media groups … API has places you can turn for help, advice or just to vent. Support is crucial in parenting; if you’re not getting it, seek it out!

Challenge: Perceived entitlement

  • I find it hard to discipline gently and not let my kids walk all over me.
  • I feel like my kids have a sense of entitlement, but it could just be that they have a heightened sense of confidence. But sometimes I have a “parent fail” when they seem out of control.
  • The attitude! Little babies just have needs. Toddlers want it all right this second, 24/7.
  • Teaching my toddler to wait when she has never waited for anything since birth.

Tip: Set limits with a balance of kindness and firmness.
It’s OK to say no. Toddlers will be upset about that—and that’s OK, too. Don’t confuse poor brain communication with entitlement. With their developing senses of autonomy and initiative, toddlers are hard-wired to explore their environment, discover boundaries and act with purpose. They just lack sufficient neural pathways to help regulate feeling and doing. So when we set a limit, tell them to wait or respond with a “No,” the emotions of their midbrain take over, and they communicate and act in the most effective way they know how—whining, yelling, crying and a general lack of patience or understanding.

Responding with sensitivity by setting limits with kindness and firmness will help children develop the neural coordination in their brain that will (eventually) allow them to respond with patience and understanding while still experiencing those necessary boundaries you set for their for health and safety. However, this takes years! Toddlerhood is only the beginning of neural development. You may see the beginnings of a child’s development of patience, understanding or self-control in one moment and in the next moment “entitled” behavior. This is normal. Children have years to go before their development reaches full maturity, and that growth is non-linear. There will be times of progression as well as regression.

The key is to consistently respond with kindness and firmness throughout their development, so children are able to form those neural pathways between feeling and doing.

Kindness: acknowledge and accept the child’s emotions.

Firmness: hold your limit.

I love you and the answer is no.
You really want to ___. It’s so fun! And it’s not safe.
You’re angry I won’t let you ___. It’s OK to be mad about that.
I’m sorry you have to wait; I know it’s hard!

Developing understanding, self-regulation and self-control will happen; it just takes time for the neural connections to develop and for the child to move forward from parental regulation. But every time you respond with kindness and firmness you are helping this process.

Don’t miss Part 1 of this series, and watch for Part 3 coming soon!

When Your Partner Wants You to Wean: Heart Advice for Nursing Mothers

*The terms “husband” and “partner” are used interchangeably throughout this post.

“She’s too old to nurse. You need to stop.”

“There’s no way my son is nursing when he’s three years old!”

“You are being selfish. Breastfeeding past one year is unnecessary. You only do this because it gives you pleasure.”

“I should have a say in this situation. Why do you get to decide how long he nurses?”

“What if I took her away from you and made you stop nursing?”

Perhaps you have heard these very words. Perhaps you have heard variations on the theme. If so, you understand the instinctive fear and sadness that can rise up in a breastfeeding mother’s body when a demand for premature weaning is given–especially when this comes from her husband or partner.

Breastfeeding is one of the most beautiful and gentle expressions of human love on the planet. Tragically, it can become a subject of discord between you and your husband. Harsh words, demands or threats about breastfeeding can tarnish your memories of nursing. The added tension in your home is unhealthy for all members of the family.

According to the World Health Organization, La Leche League International, The American Pediatric Association and Attachment Parenting International, a breastfeeding mother should continue to nurse–once the minimum recommended length of breastfeeding is met–as long as it is “mutually desired” by herself and her child. All of these organizations acknowledge the important role a father plays in offering support to the breastfeeding mother.

Knowing that you have the backing of such institutions may be helpful. But it probably doesn’t ease the emotional anguish of feeling the pressure to wean before you and your child are ready. In fact, such official statements may be a source of frustration for your husband, who wants or demands to play a role in determining how long his child will nurse.

The questions remain: What should you do when the vital support of your partner is withdrawn? Should you wean on demand?

May the following four points embolden, strengthen and encourage you as you navigate your way to answering to these painful questions.

Learn and Share

Take the time to thoroughly research the benefits of breastfeeding and the importance of nurturing a secure attachment. Perhaps, like many breastfeeding mothers, you are fully committed to child-led weaning. As one mother stated, “Only one person gets to decide when my son is ready to wean, and that is my son.”

Or perhaps, like many breastfeeding mothers, you acknowledge that a shift in the mother-child nursing dynamic can occur on either side of the equation. You may be open to a gentle approach to weaning that is mother-initiated if your feelings towards nursing change. Many thoughtful and gentle approaches to weaning described by attachment-minded leaders such as Dr. William Sears exist. By researching, you will clarify why breastfeeding is important to you and be able to articulate your vision of weaning.

Most importantly, invite your husband into this experience. While it’s important to share what you have learned through your research, it’s even more important to ask him to research the topic on his own. We all learn best when our inquiry is self-initiated. Perhaps his lack of support may simply come from ignorance. He may not know that the World Health Organization recommends that children breastfeed until they are at least two years old as a minimum standard for health. He may not understand that the health and emotional benefits of nursing continue through the toddler years. As you both do your research, you can each learn, clarify and share your insights–ideally with compassion.

Identify Underlying Issues

Can the issues fueling your partner’s demand to wean be identified? Explore the possible causes of the negativity associated with your nursing. Is your husband jealous? Is your partner feeling left out of the parenting experience? Does he have his own special “Daddy Time” to nurture important memories of fatherhood? What unconscious memories does your husband carry about his own weaning? Is your partner embarrassed by your breastfeeding? Does he want exclusive access to your body?

We live in a culture full of explicit material featuring the female body as a source of male pleasure, yet mothers who nurse in public face scorn. We live in a culture in which many of us were weaned before our natural time, perhaps due to pressure from our own fathers. We live in a culture in which only a minority of children experience the benefits of breastfeeding as nature intended. Both underlying personal issues within the relationship and underlying patterns that come from social dynamics can fuel a husband’s demand for his wife to stop nursing. See if you can identify what the core issues are. Breastfeeding can be a symbol for deeper discord that is being projected upon the mother-child relationship.

Find Support

Breastfeeding without the support of your partner is not an easy road to traverse. It’s also not easy to wish for something to change and meet resistance. I’ve spent hours in conversation with women who deeply regret giving into the pressure that led to an early weaning of their children. I’ve also spent hours in conversation with men who struggle with supporting their wives or partners in breastfeeding. They feel left out, angry and sometimes disgusted by the continued nursing relationship. Offering loving support to both individuals in this situation is vital if a healthy resolution is to unfold.

As you both seek support, consider meeting with other breastfeeding-friendly families. Let the men speak together about their fears, hopes and struggles when it comes to supporting their partners in breastfeeding. For yourself, speak candidly and openly with other nursing mothers. Join online breastfeeding support forums and reach out to trusted friends. The pressure to stop nursing before you or your child are ready can feel overwhelming. Do not keep this stress private. Have the courage to share your story with other mothers; you will find it is far more common than not.

Certainly, if your husband’s demands feel relentless or turn into threats, seek professional support. A trained marriage counselor who understands the importance of breastfeeding is invaluable here. Not only will this person offer encouragement for breastfeeding and a healthy approach to weaning, but a skilled mediator can also help your partner identify underlying issues that fuel his current demands, as well as supporting both of you in open and honest communication.

Nourish Yourself

There is a deep wisdom found in the natural dynamic between a nursing mother and child. Breastfeeding eases transitions into and out of sleep, helps calm stressed nervous systems and provides nutritive wonders that science still cannot decode. The season of breastfeeding is short-lived, even if it extends through the toddler years. Ideally, as long as both the mother and child are in harmony, the bond found in breastfeeding should be supported. Remember, you cannot turn back the clock. Once a child is weaned, the nursing stage of life for that child is over. Your pain in having this bond threatened mirrors a greater pain present in our society.

161052_1659As you navigate this difficulty, you need to nourish yourself. It’s imperative. Be sure to continue eating well and exercising. If you have a spiritual or religious practice, you may wish to dive deeply into the wisdom of silence and/or prayer. Find a source of strength that is greater than your own understanding to uplift you. Take refuge in the beauty of breastfeeding. Take refuge in the wisdom in nature. Find strength in the support of women. May these gifts nourish you at this time.

 

 

When One Parent is Away (A Lot)

Sometimes I think of our family as an airplane and my husband and I the co-pilots. We are responsible for our precious passengers, our children, and we do our best to fly over beautiful vistas, look out for bad weather and provide decent meals. We love flying our plane and help each other navigate, give each other time to rest when needed and hold hands when things get bumpy.

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But as life would have it, my co-pilot has a job that takes him away from our family quite often. And so I have spent many hours in the cockpit of our family plane alone. I have though a lot about what to call this time when I am parenting without my husband. I have decided to call it Solo Parenting, as in Solo Flying. I am up there in the pilot seat in charge of all the controls. My passengers are my responsibility, and I am an expert at simultaneously looking for bad weather ahead, keeping the plane steady, all while preparing some tasty meals.

But the seat next to me is empty. What helps me about this metaphor is that although I am parenting by myself while my husband is away, I always feel his place in our family. I can see the empty co-pilot seat next to me, so to speak. We miss him, and although I can run the plane alone, it is so much more fun and less tiring to do as a team.

My children have always lived in a family where their mother is ever-present and their father is not. Because they do not have both parents available every day, we have worked hard to make the rest of their lives feel consistent and reliable. Little things add up to life feeling safe and predictable: songs to brush teeth by, games for getting on shoes, routines at night for snuggles and singing. Time for play and time for rest. Rhythms of a day and a week. Pancakes every Sunday morning, homework after dinner each night.

We don’t like it when Daddy is away, but we are used to it. Sometimes we need to say how hard it is and how much we miss him, while other times saying it out loud makes it worse. My job is to give my children the opportunity, but not the requirement, to express their feelings. They come up while drawing together, making up silly songs in the car, and at bedtime when thoughts from the day are shared.

We stay in touch as much as we can with modern technology. I tell them when I am sending Daddy messages and photos. They know their co-pilots are still a team even when Daddy’s seat is empty. But I’ve noticed that my children want to hear about Daddy more than to talk to him directly. I think it is because talking to him on the phone is not close enough. They want to sit on his lap and talk. They want to be chased and snuggled. The voice on the phone is a reminder that he is far away. So we don’t insist that they talk to him on the phone. Seeing him on a screen is easier, and they like to have him show the view from his hotel room. But these are short interactions, rarely a time for long conversations.

Transitions are tricky, and we have developed some ways to smooth the hellos and goodbyes. My husband always asks for help packing, and often our children sneak little love notes in when he is not looking. As he leaves, he always gives a round of hugs and then says, “Be good!” We answer, “You too!” and that makes us laugh.

Later in the day we check the map and talk about where Daddy is headed and what route he will take to get there. We find the spot he will be and trace back and forth from us to him. We talk about holding him in our hearts. Sometimes we get out the globe and talk about whether it will be dark for him when it is light for us and vice versa. This orienting helps make his absence concrete; he is not just gone, he is some place specific in the world, and we can see it on a map.

When he gets home, there are more hugs, and then he takes out postcards from whatever city he has visited. Each child gets a postcard, and we all sit together looking at them and listening to stories about my husband’s trip. The postcards go in a big basket to be looked at again and again, and eventually many are put up on the wall. This simple routine has become very powerful for reconnecting our family. It gives us a focus at the moment when emotions are high and everyone is tired. It gives us a reason to sit together and a chance to begin to tell the stories of our time apart.

Making room for my co-pilot to join me as a co-parent after an absence takes mindfulness on my part. I get used to doing everything, and so I have to remind myself to let him step in for the little things like helping wash hands, putting on shoes, going out to get the mail and peeling an apple.

We have a lot of family hugs in the days after he returns. We try to spend a day doing nothing in particular, giving us time to rest, play and be together with no agenda or time pressure. And we go on adventures together to celebrate our togetherness. But best of all, we continue the day in and day out rhythm of our lives, co-pilots holding hands and passengers dancing in the aisles, waiting for their next in-flight meal.

Letters, Labyrinths, and Love

This post was originally published on TheBirthingSite.com.

At 27 weeks into my pregnancy, I started my letter to him.

I didn’t yet know I was carrying a boy. My husband and I had picked out names, but we decided to wait until the birth to know the sex of our baby. So, I addressed my letter to “Dearest Baby Glenn,” and the words poured forth.

I’ve always loved to write. I love the romance between pen and paper, dreams and words. Ideas and letters mingle and merge in me. At my Mormon baptismal celebration, my beloved Aunt Kris presented me with a journal and encouraged my eight-year-old self to write. I’ve filled over fifty books since. I find writing a deeply spiritual path.

Writing to my son added a profound dimension to this practice. I try to imagine how time will bend on an unbeknownst future day when he will read my words. What will it be like for him to see into his early years and into his mother’s heart?

I’ll always remember where I was when I began writing his letter.

Before I knew I was pregnant, I had accepted a teaching job at a private, bilingual school in Bogota, Colombia. My husband and I decided to stay the course of the adventure even as our first child grew inside of me.

I remember the sunlight pouring through my floor-to-ceiling classroom windows. I gazed at the Andes Mountains. My round belly inspired me. I placed my hands on my body and imagined the growing being within. The call to begin writing to this child came from a fiercely impatient muse. My heart was expanding with a love that my mind could not fathom. I closed my work inbox, opened up a blank Word document, and I began to type, saved it using sodapdf.com and left it on my desktop.

“Dearest Baby Glenn,

Soon I will know if I should address these reflections to Maline or to Taber. However, on the most fundamental level it doesn´t matter. You matter. My love for you matters. Your development, health, strength, inner spirit, beauty, and wonder matter.

I can´t express how much I love you. You are now a permanent part of my heart. I think of you each day and night. I feel you kick and dance and move with joy. I love you, dear baby. You are my child, and I promise to always give you my best efforts and energy as I move into motherhood. … ”

I continue to add to this growing 85-page letter.

I detail milestones, magical moments, and the struggles and hopes of our little family. I share with my son, Taber, my vision for the world. I explain why we choose to spend time outside rather than in front of a television. I write about the day he drew a circle with a crayon, proudly saying, “Moon!”

Composing this letter helps me mother with a deeper sense of wonder, grace, and gratitude. Putting into words the prayers and hopes I have for this child, reminds me of what matters most in life. I want Taber to love this world and her people. I want him to grow up to be courageous, kind, and strong. Most importantly, I want him to know he is loved. Deeply. Truly. Fiercely. Freely.

 

 

In Roman mythology, Theseus volunteers to kill the evil Minotaur responsible for the deaths of many brave Athenian youth. The hero enters a dangerous labyrinth to accomplish this task. His beloved Ariadne gives him a sacred thread so he can find his way out of the confusing maze. May our words as parents be revivifying and inspiring to our children. May they carry sacred power and become like Ariadne’s thread offering guidance when our children navigate life’s challenging labyrinths.

Theseus emerges victorious. May our children do the same.

Finding the “Me” in Mommy

Posted by Rivkah Estrin, CBE and API online contributor. Rivkah is a certified childbirth educator, DONA-trained postpartum doula and journalist who puts her passion about Attachment Parenting to use as a writer, mother and educator for expectant and new parents.

As soon as new life is ushered into the world, an old life comes to an end. The birth of a baby is in some ways a death of the woman you were before becoming a mother. As Rajneesh said, “The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.”

All I have ever wanted in life was to be a mother. I naturally attachment parented my first baby because I didn’t know how else to keep her happy. All the traditional tools fell by the wayside as she told me in her 2-day-old way that all she needed was to sleep on my chest and all would be OK. She did everything in my arms, in the sling, at my breast, as did child number 2, child number 3 and child number 4. It’s been a long but amazing nine years.

Now my youngest has turned three and is sleeping in her own space, thinking about potty training and only nursing to go to sleep. And I wonder—where am I? In the past nine years, how have I given to myself? I know I’m not alone in this feeling, but it feels so lonely.

My husband continued on his trajectory. He is an incredible AP dad, but outside the house he’s still growing his business, meeting with clients, going on business trips and eating out with colleagues. I haven’t been to a moms’ night out without a kid because my little ones nurse to sleep for a very long time. And I can’t leave them in order to go play with my friends without feeling incredibly guilty.

Should I just get over it, go out and not worry about the affect it has on my kids? That doesn’t sit well with me.

Is the fault my husband’s for having a life outside the family? No, not at all. He’s out supporting us and allowing me to be home with our kids, to homeschool them, and he spends every spare minute with his family, he makes sure we use the best Charter Homeschooling program.

Is the fault my decision to homeschool? Many parents have six hours free to do as they please, such as work, go to the gym, organize the house, shop unaccompanied and myriad other things. But the time I have with my kids is so special and so limited. The experiences we get to share together can’t be matched on Sundays and holidays. Our everyday family life is something we’ve cultivated and worked hard to achieve, and as exhausting as it can be, it is infinitely fulfilling. So, no, I won’t blame the homeschooling.

Maybe there isn’t anything to blame. Maybe it’s just a very new existence for which there is no preparation or workshop. There is a term known as Mommy Burnout, and I think I may be headed there. Not in a scary, dangerous way. But it’s becoming clear to me that as the nature of my parenting is shifting as my kids are getting older, so too the nature of how I care for myself needs to change.

It used to be that a nap refreshed me to my core. My burnout was sleep-related, and a nap did just the trick. But my burnout issue now is lack of time—time for myself, time to take a class, time to smell the flowers. In the words of Rabbi Hillel, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”

Foot bridge

API’s 8th Principle of Parenting is about striving for balance in personal and family life, which means “ensuring that everyone’s needs — not just the child’s — are recognized, validated and met to the greatest extent possible.” How does a mom find a way to recharge when the demands have shifted? How does one achieve more time? How does a mom give a little bit back to herself after so many years of joyfully overlooking her own needs? Here are a few ways I came up with that work for me.

Get into a book. More than just reading, finding a book that can transport me to another place and time can be a true mental vacation. I always say my favorite part of reading is being in the middle of a book. Looking forward to the next plot twist keeps me going even on the roughest of days.

Call a friend. My friends have always been my lifeline. And yet I find that months can go by without so much as a phone call! That’s just tragic. One thing I would love to implement is a once-weekly quiet time where I can step outside and call someone. Reminiscing about old times, talking about our current lives and just hearing a familiar voice can be relaxing and refreshing.

Add music. I like to bring the laptop in to the kitchen while cooking dinner or washing dishes. I can put on my favorite tunes, and it turns into a quick and easy escape from the endless to-do lists inside my head. The kids, usually off playing, will even come in sometimes and listen quietly with me. It’s a relaxing way to transition from the activities of the day toward bedtime.

Play a game with a partner or friend. What better way to chill out than to get completely consumed with a game? Recently my husband and I grabbed a deck of cards and played for two hours. We didn’t talk about the kids. It was awesome.

Pour a glass of wine (or cup of tea) and watch something. Two Netflix envelopes arrive at our house every week. One is for the kids and one is for us. Sometimes we get caught up in a great show and wait impatiently for the next DVD. Sometimes we catch up on all the movies we don’t get to the theater to see. Setting aside the time to watch something together is an effort, but it carries a worthwhile payout in distraction from the day-to-day.

Exercise! I can’t say it enough. It feels so good, gets all those endorphins coursing through the body and, oh yeah, it’s good for me, too. Every now and again I pop on some ABBA or Donna Summer and dance around the house. The kids love it and don’t even realize this is part of my master survival plan. On days when my husband is home and I can sneak out, I take a brisk walk around the neighborhood and enjoy 30 minutes of kid-free time with my iPod and my thoughts. Inevitably I return sweaty, energized and refreshed.

Find the spiritual. Our family observes the Sabbath. That means that from Friday night until Saturday night we turn off our cell phones, computers and TV and focus on family, friends and good food. Our walk to synagogue reminds us how much we enjoy being outside. Feeling the breeze, seeing the amazing reptiles we have here in southern Florida, and holding hands with our kids is so grounding. Even in the summer months, when the weather is brutally hot and often rainy, it is wonderful to be at one with the elements. After all, it is only a 15-minute walk. I make it a habit to invite friends for meals, and we sit and talk in a way we never have time for during our normal, hectic weekdays. For my family, reconnecting with nature and our community without distraction is absolutely essential to our spiritual well-being, and that translates directly to our family dynamic.

It may seem that I think of my husband as a babysitter, though I don’t view him that way at all. But I also know that if unprovoked, he won’t grab my walking shoes for me and shove me out the door with my iPod. I have to do it myself. Even though he’s the dad, I am and will always be the mother. As tiring, exhausting and overwhelming as it can sometimes be, that role is mine. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dear Health Visitor, I Must Confess I Lied …

Posted by Louise, a mother living the United Kingdom. She blogs at mamabeanblog.blogspot.co.uk. “Health Visitors” in the UK health system are community nurses who provide routine developmental checks, care and support to newborns and their parents, including advice on feeding, sleeping and all aspects of newborn care.

Dear Health Visitor,

I must confess, I lied. I didn’t set out to be untruthful, but I felt like I had no other option at the time. I should obviously take full responsibility for my untruth; after all, I had the audacity to be a first-time mum with the sheer cheek to want the very best for my baby girl. You see, I didn’t actually leave my angel to cry. I didn’t really look past her gaze at nighttime to avoid eye contact. I didn’t even offer her a sip of water instead of my breast. She didn’t, in truth, actually sleep for those 8 hours that I told you about.

In fact, she has never slept for 8 hours in a row…not when you take into account all of the snuggling, smiles, little kisses and breastfeeds that naturally occur throughout our night. Yes, Health Visitor, I did say “our night”; my little girl and I sleep side-by-side, drifting in and out of our own special sleep dance, perfectly in tune, feeling warm, safe and happy. I guess that’s something else that I wasn’t exactly truthful about at the time. You can find more info about desert mobile medical.

You see, Health Visitor, I led you to believe that your advice, excuse me, your instructions, were right for us. I led you to believe that your dated and unsafe methods actually “worked”… if “success” is determined by the behavior of a child instead of the feelings. If only I had been honest from the start, perhaps the footprints that you came to leave in the next unsuspecting mother’s life would have been softer. Perhaps, just perhaps, you might have questioned your own methods and goals, seeking evidence-based, research-led data that would broaden and accelerate your understanding of the subject matter you preach daily. Or perhaps not.

903529_65792420For you and your team, my innocent baby was simply a tick in a box, but I didn’t actually ask for “help” if you remember.

It was your colleague who rang me at 10 weeks postpartum, when my iron levels were still so low after I had nearly died of a postpartum hemorrhage that I could easily have been admitted to hospital. “Are you getting out much? I haven’t seen you at the drop-in weight clinic, and 10 weeks is by far enough time to be back to normal.”

It was your colleague who told me at a breastfeeding “support” group at 4 months that any more than one night feed was nothing more than “pure manipulation” on my baby’s part. Funnily enough, there was no mention of growth spurts, sleep regressions, or baby brain maturity rendering my daughter physiologically incapable of “manipulation.”

It was your colleague who told me repeatedly, again at the breastfeeding support group, that my baby fed too frequently and to offer her water instead of the breast. Funnily enough, there was no check for tongue-tie, which was totally missed until 18 months. Or allergy, which was missed until a major type 1 reaction occurred on the introduction of solids. It seems that the ‘Health’ in ‘Health Visitor’ is there for no more than decoration.

It was your colleague who told me at my daughter’s 9-month check that children who aren’t put in their cots at 7 p.m. and left there without contact for the proceeding 12 hours will turn into “teenagers who sleep with their parents.”

But it was you, dear Health Visitor, who quietly watched, gently checked-in and slowly nodded. It was you who chip, chip, chipped away at my motherly instincts and confidence. If only I hadn’t answered truthfully in the postnatal depression test; if only my results hadn’t flagged me as borderline so that I was placed on monthly drop-ins for an “innocent chat.”

I was honest here, Health Visitor. I was telling the truth when I said I was happy, that I had never felt more content and fulfilled than when my darling daughter gazed lovingly into my eyes at the breast. I was being honest when I said that the only reason I scored highly on the “anxiety” section was because I couldn’t shake the memory of crashing during childbirth–the memory of my wonderful husband holding our baby with nothing but terror in his eyes while a team of doctors worked on me, as all the while the world grew fuzzy-white and I fought to stay awake. You see, Health Visitor, my “problem” wasn’t with being a mother, it was with the memory of almost NOT being a mother…of almost missing out on every single second of pure joy that my child brings me. It was with a slow, unapologetic nod and change of subject that you met this truth.

You are the expert after all. You know sleep deprivation when you see it. In fairness, you were quite right; I was tired, but the difference between you and I is that I don’t see tiredness as a bad thing. Being tired was a crucial part of my new mum experience. It allowed me to switch off the world outside and focus on the only thing that mattered: my baby.

It was you, Health Visitor, who instructed me on every single drop-in visit to leave my daughter to cry in her cot, alone, “for as long as it takes, even if she is sick.” It was you who instructed me on every single visit, to “keep it up for as many days or weeks as is necessary, and if you need to change the sheets to remove the vomit, don’t look her in the eye.” It was you who told me that “every mum has a breaking point.” You were determined to reach mine, weren’t you, dear Health Visitor?

I simply must confess to you that I lied. I did not follow your orders. I did not leave my daughter alone in her cot to cry and puke and learn helplessness. Instead, I cuddled, cradled, snuggled and breastfed my baby girl so that she can learn what it is to be human. Because isn’t that what we are missing in all of this? Isn’t it eye contact, innate communication, respect, kindness and love that define us as human? It is with nothing but pure love that I treat my daughter.

I see your instructions as nothing more than neglect, and it is because of this that I am sorry. I am sorry that I led you to believe that I had taken your advice; in explanation, I simply wanted your visits to stop. I am truly sorry to all of the other mums who had to endure your mantra. I am so very sorry to all of the other babies that had to endure the consequences of your orders. I hope that now, with hindsight and with my admission, you will understand that your role is not just a day job. You are on the front line, so to speak. You have the access to truly make a difference in the lives of hundreds of families. Let’s turn away from learned helplessness and perhaps in so doing you will learn helpfulness … we can but hope.

Sincerely,

Mama Bean

Silent Heartbreak

I had a miscarriage when I was 24. It was one of the most devastating events of my adult life.

For three months, I was sick. For three months, I planned out the entire future of this little being nestled safely in my womb. I even had a name: Rose Marie Elizabeth. Then, at a routine doctor’s appointment, it happened. She couldn’t find the heartbeat.

I was told not to worry, “It’s not uncommon, but just to be sure, let’s schedule you for an ultrasound.”

“But.” I hate that word. It’s always a caveat to other things. It’s hardly ever a good sign. I love you, but … I brought this for you, but … Check’s in the mail, but … Things are fine, but … ”

Off I went for my ultrasound. I was laying on the exam table with a blanket wrapped around my middle, wearing a too-big, generic hospital gown in a quiet room, tucked away from the main flow of the clinic.

I should have known.

The technician was very kind, very gentle, and sensitive to the news he was about to reveal. I had no idea how to read the images on the screen. I could see a sack, but it looked empty. His face told me what I wasn’t brave enough to ask. “I’m so sorry,” he said, “these things happen. There’s nothing you could have done. It’s not your fault.”

I don’t remember changing my clothes or walking out of the clinic, but I remember sobbing in the car as though my soul had been shredded from my body.

They told me that it could take up to two weeks for my body to have the miscarriage. I was in agony. My mind was tortured by the thoughts of what I was carrying around inside me. Of the life I had so lovingly planned just a few moments before. Now it was nothing but shambles around my feet. Everything felt broken: my mind, my body, my life, my baby, my dreams.

Two weeks later, I felt the first pain. It came slowly at first, very far apart, and just like regular labor, it gradually increased in speed and strength and length. I drove myself home from work but shouldn’t have. I don’t remember anything but thinking I was going to die.

It was just like giving birth except there would be no baby at the end of all the work.

I couldn’t do it. I was literally a shaking lump of tears on the bathroom floor. Somehow, I managed to get the phone to call 911. The woman on the other end was soothing, and I felt safer.

I ended up in the hospital Emergency Room that night. Unfortunately, the nurse was cruel and unsympathetic to what was happening to me and the obstetrician was busy with happier things upstairs to pay much attention to me. Two residents took pity on me, giving me a warm blanket and a shot to numb the pain. They offered simple but powerful kindness by touching my knee and stroking my hair as I cried. Twelve hours later, it was over. The obstetrician examined me, and I was sent home.

I had no idea how to heal. Is time my only option, because sitting in that murk and disillusionment would have killed me.

I decided to go to the book store to find a book about miscarriage. I was standing in the grief section trying to find something that would work for what I was feeling. Nothing. I went to the death section. Nothing. I went to the self-help section. Nothing. There was nothing for me. I’ve never felt so completely alone. Dejected, I sat on the little stool meant to help people reach for the higher shelves and just cried. I cried for my baby and for me and for my hopes and dreams that seemed so very far away. And I cried, because I was angry that happiness had been ripped away from me.

As I was leaving the bookstore, I passed by the baby section—where all the “new mom” books are, the cute baby faces in cute baby clothes, where all the happy families hang out. At first, I was going to keep walking because the thought of looking at what I had just lost threatened to unravel my last thread of strength. But something inside me told me to be brave, to just look up, to look at the titles, that it’ll be OK.1405283_85836809 purple flower

I picked up a book about natural pregnancy. It was called Immaculate Deception. I don’t know why I picked it up. Maybe it was the word “deception” since that’s how I felt. Or maybe it was “immaculate” because the word held a promise that better times where ahead. Whatever the reason, it was the book that would lead me to my two beautiful home water births. It was the inspiration for finding my power as a woman. It planted the seeds of expectation: that we all deserve a respectful birth which empowers us and celebrates our strength, within in a culture that respects our choices.

At the time, my miscarriage was one of the most painful events I ever went through. It took me months to physically recover and years before I recovered emotionally. But I believe everything happens for a reason, even our darkest moments, and if we can be brave enough to just look up, we’ll be fortunate enough to discover what that reason is and be better for knowing.

*Originally published in the New Baby 2012 edition of Attached Family. Click here to access past issues of Attached Family. If you are not already an API member, you can join now for free by using the link provided on the Attached Family page.

 

A Bundle of AP Resources

If you love great AP resources, this is the opportunity for you! A team of gentle/ mindful/ attachment parenting bloggers, writers and professionals from around the world have come together to create one amazing set of resources. Ebooks, audio recordings, tele-seminars, workshops, and e-zines…there are a variety of topics and materials brought to you in this bundle of materials from positive/ gentle/ attachment parenting leaders around the world. Our in-house ebook formatters have been helping authors make sure each eBook is personally reviewed and formatted for publishing. It is a chance to get a lot of great content at a really great price. Take a look at just a few of the contributors and resources you will get in the bundle:

Teleseminar:
The 8 Principles of Attachment Parenting; a 2-hour panel discussion put on by API Live (a $38 teleseminar by itself!)

Ebook:
Encouraging Words for Kids, by Kelly Bartlett

Ebook:
Newbie’s Guide to Positive Parenting, by Rebecca Eanes

Audio recording:
Stress Relief for Parentsby Genevive Simperingham

Ebook:
Mommy Overwhelm; a Holistic Approach to Parental Stress and Depressionby Laura Schuerwegen

Online course:
Connecting Family Through Creative Playgiven through Creative Playhouse and Connecting Family and Seoul

Ebook:
The Parenting Primer; A Guide to Positive Parenting in the First 6 Years, by Michelle Carchrae

Audio recording:
Getting Back on Track–Why We Explode and What to Do About It, by Genevieve Simperingham

Ebook:
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Audio + workbook:
Children and Foodfrom The Organic Sister

Ebook:
42 Rules for Divorcing With Children, by Melinda Roberts

Audio recording:
Relaxation Meditationby Amy Phoenix

Ebook:
The Playful Family, by Shawn Fink

Ezine:
Play Grow Learnfrom Childhood 101

Ebook:
Parenting for Social Change; Transform Childhood, Transform the World, by Teresa Graham Brett

Ebook:
Raising a Creative Kid, by Jilian Riley

You can go to the Mindful Parenting eBundle site  to learn more about the bundle and see the complete list of contributions.

If you were going to buy each product separately, you’d spend close to $300.00 for all of these resources. The bundle is being sold for $24.95…that’s about $1.00 for each item! The sale goes on for just the next two weeks.

API is excited to be a part of this resource package and offer its teleseminar on the 8 Principles of AP to so many attachment-minded parents around the world! Take a look at what else is available; this is sure to be a valuable resource for any family.

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