attachment parenting – Page 29

Why Attachment Parenting Promotes a More Connected Society

My family and I spent most of the day yesterday in the Federal Building updating passports. It was a very long day in a crowded space and what else does one do, other than watch your kids play superheroes with other kids in their common language, except people watch.

I’ve always enjoyed people watching as a way of understanding the world and people more. It’s so easy to let the little gifts pass us by unless we take the time to look for them. Today we were surrounded by newborns. There must have been at least 20-30 of them with their parents in line and in the waiting area. At first my heart just melted and I had to ask how old they were. Most were only a week or two weeks old. Then my boys and I just stared as we viewed the miraculous sightings of these precious little angels.

I watched the mothers and fathers and it took me back to those first days and weeks. I remembered the magic, the LOVE, the fragility, the fatigue…all of it. I saw first borns, twins and siblings with their new little sidekicks. It made the day go by and I truly enjoyed being around and interacting with such a diverse group of people and witnessing my boys doing the same.

What surprised me the most in this very large crowd was the fact that not one person was wearing their baby in a wrap or carrier. It actually made me sad but I also felt fortunate as I reflected on the years I wore both of my boys in wraps and carriers. I wanted to stand up and tell everyone the joy that comes from wearing your child. The room was filled with strollers and car seats. I watched the babies drink from their bottles, get burped and then placed back into their seats, then repeat….over the course of several hours. My wish is that one day soon, I will walk into a waiting room or public setting and see a room full of parents holding and wearing their babies.

I am not judging those who bottle feed, nor am I judging you if your baby is in a car seat or stroller. What I am saying however, is that I feel our society has become and continues to promote and encourage detachment from our children. They go from car seats, to strollers to walkers, to play pens to cribs. I know they get fed and cuddled somewhere in between but I can’t help but to wish we could all connect even more. We all need to know we are loved and our babies are completely dependent on us for everything. If we are able to give them as much love, contact and warmth as possible, I believe they will feel more secure and safe which will only make them thrive even more.

In other societies and cultures throughout the world, it is normal and commonplace to wear your baby all day, sleep with your baby and spend as much time skin to skin as possible. Especially in the first year of life. I think about newborns. I imagine their world before they were delivered into this one. They are tucked in, warm, cozy, safe and comfortable within the womb of their Mother. When they enter this new realm, they are no longer tucked in tightly. The stimulation must be overwhelming and the warmth and basic necessities are all they require. Sleep, eat, burp, poop, repeat.

I know as a first time parent the responsibility of it all can be intimidating and taking care of the basics makes you feel like you made it through the day successfully.

Again, I want to make it clear that I understand we all do our best. At least I hope so. Not everyone was born to be a babywearing, cosleeping, breastfeeding parent. I get it. Not everyone will agree with me and in fact I realize many will disagree with me and my ways. That is okay also.

My need to express here isn’t about you or me or how we parent. It’s about the most fundamental principal in all of life. LOVE. If you aren’t wearing your baby in a wrap or carrier, I’m not saying you don’t love the same way a babywearing parent does. I’m saying, let’s do it more. All I thought about in that room all day was how happy those little babies would have been if they were wrapped up close against their Mothers.

I saw people getting frustrated and annoyed that their babies were crying. Babies cry. Don’t ever feel embarrassed or ashamed when yours does. To me though, the quickest way to ease them once you tend to their needs, is to hold them close. Let them feel your heartbeat. Let them smell your skin. Let them hear your voice. Let them feel the thousands of kisses on their little heads as you carry them throughout your day.

Yes, I support babywearing. Yes, I am an attachment parent. I am not saying I’m better. I am not saying it is all easy. What I am saying is this. This time goes by so fast. These moments need to be cherished. The sacrifices we make are worth it. I promise. The love, security, stability, warmth and connection you offer will make a difference. My wish for the New Year is for all of us to Love more. To connect more. To Accept more. To Attach more. That is my wish.

Congratulations to all of you who have already experienced the extraordinary gift of giving birth. I wish those of you expecting to have safe and healthy deliveries. Being a mother is the greatest gift and role of my life. I am so thankful for my boys and for my family and I will love with all of my heart each and every minute I am breathing.

Much Love and Support,

A Tribute to My Father

My father was a mystery to me. He had issues of his own that I really never understood until after his death in 2003 when I had the wisdom to see him as a person separate from his role as father. He grew up during the Great Depression — born October 5, 1929 — his birthday month ringing in the Crash; his family lost everything. He had to sleep in the enclosed porch of his Southside of Chicago home, as his parents had to have boarders to makes ends meet.

dad — My father stopping to smell the roses on my wedding day

My father’s father was an alcoholic –a singer and musician who played in Chicago nightclubs. Some nights he was funny and charming, other nights cruel and mean. I think of my father as a little boy and imagine what he may have gone through.

There is a story that breaks my heart and a story only told to me by my mother, with direct instructions to never let my father know I knew. My father, 6’3, black curly hair, green hazel eyes, filled with pride of his first car, eager to share his pride with his own dad. My father must have been 16 or 17.

Instead of sharing in this proud moment, my father’s father berated him, cutting him down and assaulting him with insults about his crappy car. All my father wanted was his father to be proud of him.

My mother told me this story once to help me understand my dad. It made me sad to think my father went through that.

My mother also told me this is why he bought me a royal blue 1970 Volkswagen Karmann Ghia in mint condition when I was 16 years old. Man, that car was cool! And I will never forget the pride in my father’s smile when he showed it to me, surprising me by ushering me outside to have a look.

mom and dad — Betty and John were special people. Anyone that ever met them knew this. They were storytellers and magicians. They made people feel good. Sure, like everyone, they had their problems, but deep at their core, they were the pot of gold. My magic - my love.

My mother didn’t tell me this story until I was in my late twenties. My dad was an alcoholic and quit drinking cold turkey when I was born. I imagine he drank to tame his demons from childhood and from the war.

He fought in the Korean War. He was a member of the Frozen Chosen, the Battle of Inchon, where he saw thousands of men murdered. It was so cold during this time that men’s eyeballs froze — their own tears icicles upon their own eyes.

I never was able to look at this as a reason for his own depression and anger. At times, he was down right frightening, flying off the handle in a rage I did not understand as a child nor a young adult. He did not physically abuse me, but there was mental abuse at times.

The thing is, now as a parent, I am able to forgive him and understand him. I love him and honor all the good about him. He went to work everyday to support his family and had a boss that berated him and put him down. He brought me home paper to draw on as a child from the bank where he worked as one of the mobile patrol security guards in downtown Chicago. He worked the second shift and never missed a day of work.

I think of him struggling to drown his depression and sorrow in a bottle, but he never did. He soldiered on. I imagine him discussing the horrors of war and his own childhood with his therapist, a very kind man he saw for many years.

dad on ship in white tshirt — My dad during the Korean War on a ship. He was a Marine.

I think of my father marching out of Inchon, knowing in his heart there was a family waiting for him on the other side of this awful war he witnessed. Somehow, he knew in his heart that our family would make him whole even though he had not met us.

It would be almost twenty years after Korea that he would meet my mom. They would go through so much. The first night my parents met, he told her everything about his past, including the sad story of his father assaulting him with insults the day he showed off his first car.

dad in korea — My dad in Korea. He was a member of the Frozen Chosen who fought in Inchon in the Korean War. He is buried at Arlington Cemetery.

dad and his war buddy — My dad and his friend from Korea. This man called me shortly after my father died. He told me a story of how my father saved his life and how my father's thick head of black curly hair stuck out of foxholes because he was so tall.

Now that I am a mother myself and understand how overwhelming it is to be a parent at times, I have so much respect for my father for not continuing the cycle he saw. He did the best he could and he was torn up from war, childhood, and a hard life.

b&w me and dad — My father and I on my wedding day, November 23, 2003. My father has cancer and my husband and I got married in my parents' bedroom so he could give me away.

So instead of remembering the bad things and his imperfections, I remember the kindness and courage I saw on a daily basis. He taught me so much and I just wish I had the opportunity to tell him that I am proud of him.

My dad around Christmas time 2002 -- his last Christmas

He died 9 years ago in the middle of the night, technically December 11 at 4 am holding my mother’s hand. December 10, 2003 was the last time I saw him and had to say goodbye to the father I loved for 29 years.

Death sucks, but it is a part of life. But you see I miss him. I miss him, and as grief has numbed the loss – a hole that death leaves, gaping in concave fragments of the heart, a sense of longing has replaced this. This sense of missing him, knowing he is gone.

I miss him.

I miss seeing the veins on his hands, crossed in a holding pattern on his lap, a cigarette always tucked puffing solo in his lips. I miss his morning silence and two cups of coffee minimum rule: “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee.”

I miss him.

I miss watching his gait, heavy to the left, limping, shifting the weight in stride to his other leg — the leg I now know had significant damage from frostbite from Korea. I miss his odd sense of humor and his incredible intelligence. I miss how he could talk to anyone. I miss his pride. I miss his pats on the back and how awkward he became when I insisted on hugging him.

I miss him.

I miss the way he could pack a car, no matter how large with flea market finds. I miss his Cuban wedding shirts. I miss his scarves which he always called mufflers and reminded me to bundle up on cold Wyoming winter nights before I left the house. I miss his anger, sometimes dark and black. I miss his garden and the flower pots he filled them with — stacked in neat rows around the brick wall around our house on Maxwell. I miss seeing him peaceful with dirt in his hands.

I miss him.

I miss the way he wrapped his shoelaces around his ankles, tying them pragmatically in double knots as an old man. I miss his grey hair comb over. I miss his kindness and Irish pride. I miss smelling Corn Beef and Cabbage every St. Patrick’s Day. I miss the strong scent of coffee in the kitchen of our home. I miss having a hell of a hard time trying to buy him the perfect Christmas gift.

I miss him.

I miss his voice and his ability to speak only when necessary in a conversation. I miss his knowledge and the statistics he could whip out on any baseball team in this century or the last. I miss that he could give the biggest compliment to me through a third person like when he told my best friend Heidi that she had to make sure I write because it is in my blood — “Make sure Megan writes; she is a writer — a journalist a poet. She is related to Percy Bysshe Shelley, you know? Make sure she writes — it is in her blood.” I miss his smile, sometimes rare and sometimes wild.

I miss him.

I miss watching him read thick books and biographies. I miss startling him if I walked up on him unexpectedly, giving me a sense he knew fear in the strongest sense of the word and I miss the sense of relief he had when he knew it was me. I miss his car — a long maroon Lincoln Continental plastered with proud Semper Fi bumper stickers.

I miss him: John Shelley Miller, my dad — the first man I ever loved.

cardinal bird — Photo Title: "Fence" -- I send messages to my father through the birds. Cardinals deliver same day mail. My father loved cardinals and I can't help but think he sends me messages back when they whistle by me. My yard in North Carolina is filled with cardinals. I see one weekly -- at least.




















My thoughts and prayers go out to the families and community of Newtown. There are no words, only grief.

Are You Afraid to Admit the Challenges You Face As a Parent?

I often look into the eyes of my friends, or strangers in Target with toddlers and babies in their carts and ask, “How’s it going? Most of the time I get the big smile and the cheerful voice telling me, “Great!” I stare a little deeper and I ask again in case I might be the one person they want to tell the truth to. If I still don’t get the answer I’m looking for, I’ll ask again, “Do you ever find that it’s hard?” “Do you ever have really rough days?”

I have found that I desperately want to connect and relate with others in the reality of parenthood. I feel the magic, Love, gratitude and magnitude in each moment. This love overwhelms me in the most powerful ways. I am truly thankful for being given the greatest role of my lifetime. The gift of being the mother to my two sons. This said, I find that many people don’t want to admit how crazy hard it can be sometimes. Even when I am standing there giving them the space, or at least that’s what I’m attempting to do, to speak the truth. To let it out. To relate. To understand that you are not alone. I want you to help me realize I’m not alone just as badly.

I am a very positive person and I have so much love inside and so much love to give. I am an extremely patient person as well. Patience may be one of those things that comes easily for me or a choice I make in each moment, yet sometimes, even that doesn’t make certain situations any easier. Yesterday, I broke down a few times in tears and felt completely helpless. I knew why it was rough but that didn’t make the hours go by any quicker and it didn’t resolve the stress and sadness I felt.

I believe we all do our best to know ourselves. Know our limitations, our bodies when we are sick, and our instincts when something doesn’t feel right. I also believe we do our best to know and understand our children. For example, I have learned recently how important a solid twelve hour night sleep is for my boys. They wake up cheerful, enthusiastic and playful the following day. It’s so simple and yet, so true.

Well, my boys have had stuffy noses the past few days and this hasn’t allowed for much restful sleep. That is my excuse and justification for why the past 24 hours have been absolutely and beyond…challenging. I now understand the need to lock yourself in a closet for just a minute to cry and regroup. It is just necessary sometimes. The crankiness, the crying, the attitudes, the not listening to anything I say, the getting hit in the ear with a wooden plank (accidentally)…all of it. I am laughing now as I write this because the visual seems amusing in this moment, but trust me, there was nothing funny about my day yesterday.

At times like those, even with the excuse I tell myself about the lack of sleep, I look at myself and wonder what I am doing wrong. I wonder where I can improve. I wonder if anyone in the world experiences days like these. I just want to cry. I want to go to sleep and let a new day begin.

I got the boys to bed early last night and they slept a full and tranquil twelve hours. Like a scene out of the Sound of Music, a new day began this morning. Big smiles and hugs from everyone, birds chirping, a shower WITH my hair washed, a lovely and peaceful breakfast, boys playing together, a dentist appointment with no crying, and smiles, love, and fun this entire day. I am thankful, recharged and happy. We skipped and laughed and hugged and as I was walking through my day, I felt compelled to share my thoughts.

I believe we are all grateful for those enjoyable moments spent with our children. We are grateful when we get through a store or a day without any ‘episodes’. I just had to express to you how hard it can truly be sometimes. I am not afraid to tell you that. I would love to ask you to express the same when you need to. If it isn’t me you want to vent to, please tell someone. I see so many people in our society working so hard to pretend their lives are perfect. Facebook, a platform I adore for many reasons, is one of those places especially, where I witness the ‘My life is perfect’ syndrome. There is comfort in hiding behind the protection of a computer screen, and fabricating the life you want to present to the world. It is really comfortable though?

I also believe that many of you, including myself, truly are positive and happy and feel compelled to share wonderful moments or photos publicly. I get it. I also believe that when you are down, putting out positivity or even receiving positivity is helpful in beginning a day with a good attitude…even if you don’t have one in that moment.

I’m not telling you to spill all of your hardships onto the social media masses. All I am saying is, don’t be afraid to be who you are. Don’t be afraid of what people will think of you. Don’t be afraid when you divulge a certain truth, that people will discover you are not perfect. Guess what. None of us are. We are not. Our children are not. Our lives are not.

Whether we have kids or we don’t, we go through ups and downs. I believe it is our attitude and the way we approach and respond to those downs that will get us through. Dig deep for patience in those moments. I know sometimes it may seem impossible. Go cry in the closet. The moment will pass. The day will pass. A new day will begin with another chance to experience the miracle of being alive.

I also want to acknowledge those with newborns. I always think of you. Hang in there. While you are enjoying first smiles and precious glances, you are also experiencing sleepless nights, fatigue and responsibility for another like you’ve never known. Hold on to each moment. Enjoy it. Find the beauty. Find the patience and the Love. Be present. I promise you this. You WILL sleep again. You will have moments to yourself again and most importantly, I promise you this. It all goes by faster than you know. This is it. This is your chance to be the mother or father you never had or like the mother or father you did have and respect so much. This is your chance to be YOU. This is your chance to be the best Parent you can be. There isn’t a greater role or responsibility on Earth…in my opinion.

Much Love and Support.

Our Children’s Behavior and How We Respond to the Challenges

I was recently asked by a few people to write on the subject of behavior and how I deal with my boys when things aren’t smooth and easy. Tonight feels like the night to share on this subject. Today was a crazy, challenging day and somehow, we all survived and communicated through it without anyone feeling any worse than we already had within ourselves. There wasn’t enough sleep last night which created a day filled with moodiness, sensitivity, and crying to name a few.

I was having a lupus flare up with major fatigue and to top it off, we got home from a long day only to be locked out! So, I had the boys telling me they were cold and tired, ten bags on my arm, a borrowed ladder from the neighbor, our dog in tow and had to handle this situation. I attempted to climb up to the second story balcony like spider man. As my boys cheered me on, and after calling a few people walking by to assist, we were finally successful and opened the door I thankfully left unlocked today! Just another day in the life. Should I share or should I only share my smiles and happiness? I am choosing to share.

One of the things I’ve always believed is that most of us grew up with the feeling of not being good enough. I learned this several years ago and not only did I remember the point in my life when I made that decision, but I began to see the pattern in everyone I knew. That point when you were a child and the world was yours. You were carefree with mismatched socks on, crooked glasses on your face, a missing front tooth and had no idea what perfect or imperfect was. You just walked around fulfilling your curiosity and trying to find your place in this world without knowing exactly what “fitting in” meant yet.

Then, one day, something happened. Someone made fun of you. Someone judged you. Someone pointed out your differences. Someone made you cry. At that point, you made a decision, most likely unconscious, that you weren’t good enough and the negative self image, comparison to others, and quest to fit in or stand out began.

The reason I am mentioning this is because that happened to me and I’ve spent most of my life actually standing on the outside. I wanted everyone to like me and then I realized I cared more about being ME and understood that not everyone would. Today, I want to share with you because I believe that as a parent, or as any human being trying to find your way, you must realize and understand this pattern so you can not only heal yourself, but also do your best to prevent the same feeling from affecting the younger generations of this world. This awareness and transformation begins with ourselves and our children first.

I had no idea what kind of parent I would be. I had no idea what patience was until I had my first child. No idea. I had no idea what unconditional love was although I thought I had known it well. I truly discovered Love, Patience and an Instinct within myself that I had never known. This instinct is what guides me each day. This Love is what allows me to be patient and kind and strong, no matter what.

I didn’t know that the term ‘gentle’ or ‘positive’ discipline existed, yet I knew that’s what I was practicing. Once you hear a term or you hear others doing what you are doing, it makes you feel like you have support, like you are not alone and like you are not as different as everyone says you are.

I am non-traditional in my ways. Yes. I have been judged and doubted and questioned along the way and I’m certain that will continue. That is fine. My sons may cry in front of you or they may throw a fit in a public place. You may stare and say, “Can’t that woman get her kid’s under control?” You may say, “I know her kid’s are crying because she is an attachment parent and she’s still breastfeeding.” Let me think of what else you might say just so you know that I’m already aware you are saying it. “Sandy really needs to do time outs and discipline those boys or they are just going to be crazy.”

Although I wish you would be kind and have empathy for me and all of the other parents or caretakers out there struggling in moments when they can’t control a situation or sad that their child is suffering, I can’t do anything about you or those like you. You either don’t have kids, think yours are perfect, think you are perfect, or have no idea what it is to love so much that you care more about comforting your suffering child, than being embarrassed because someone can’t handle the annoyance of your struggle.

When children act out, they are crying for attention. They are crying because something isn’t right. They are hungry, they are tired, they are frustrated, they are scared. They may simply need you to hold them. That is all that matters to me. Being there for them in those moments. Logic sometimes works. Sometimes it’s just removing them from the situation if they will let you. Sometimes it is just holding them and assuring them that you are there until it passes.

We must breathe deeply and remain calm. Even if that doesn’t seem possible. I don’t ever want to threaten or shame them into anything. I don’t believe in it. When I do the juggling act of distraction that I sometimes find necessary, I do it in order to get them out of the momentary stress they are experiencing. I don’t dismiss what they are going through. I acknowledge their feelings and their point of view once they are able to communicate with me and we move on with the next moment in our day.

I believe that communication is the most important thing. In any relationship. I communicate with my boys and always have. I respect them as people. They know this and this is how we work our issues out. This is how we support one another and learn who we are. Dominance, yelling, threatening, scaring, punishing…I’m sorry. I do not believe in. Think about yourself. When someone does that to you, do you react gently, kindly, respectfully, obediently. Or would you say you are more defensive, angry or hurt? Yes, you may react obediently but what is that. The negative effects of the situations are prolonged, the hurt feelings linger and something is taken away from you. Somewhere along the way, you will feel like you are bad, not good enough, or unloved.

Obedience to me may look good to others and others may comment on how well behaved your children are, but with obedience comes less of their spirt. In my opinion, communication and positive discipline allow for children to be themselves, allows for their spirits to be free and yet they will learn the respect and boundaries needed without crushing their souls and making them compliant robots for the sake of looking good to others.

To be clear, we are all different. I am only sharing what works for me and what I believe. I am not perfect. I can only hope that my example, my choices and my methods will make my boys strong, independent, free-spirited, confident, loving, compassionate, kind men. I hope that they always remember and know how loved they are. I believe it is the gift of feeling loved that gives us what we need in Being who we are supposed to BE in this Lifetime.

Patience and Love. Support and Encouragement. Warmth and Compassion.
I hear you. I understand you. I respect you. I love you.

How Extended Co-Sleeping Happens

Extended co-sleeping seems to be one of those things most parents don’t really plan on. When I hear talk of co-sleeping, it’s usually about babies. But there is a large contingent of parents who co-sleep indefinitely with their children. It makes life so much easier. Research shows that extended co-sleeping is more common than many might suspect.

It’s funny. I never thought much about co-sleeping in terms of baby vs toddler vs preschooler. When Annika was an infant, I just assumed she would have moved to her own bed by now (age 4.5). I had no idea how it was going to happen, but in my head, it did.

Unfortunately, when it comes to parenting, it’s rarely that simple.

I tried to move Annika into her own bed off and on. Once around 4 months, we attempted to move her back into her crib, in my bedroom. She’d just stiffen up and scream bloody murder every time I tried to lay her down.

Again, around 8 months, I tried side-carring the crib against my bed. It worked. For one night. She slept for a heavenly six hours alone, and I stretched out luxuriously in my own bed inches away from her.

The second night, she was on to me, and refused to stay sleeping in the crib, waking after only about an hour and refusing to go back down without me close enough to touch.

The early events were traumatic enough on both of us that I gave up and realized I’d be sleeping with my babe for a while.

Around age 2, I made up a bed for her and pushed it up against my bed. She slept in twice sometime around age 2 or 3. At this point I don’t really remember when it happened. Because it hasn’t happened since.

Her dad (my ex) wishes I would harder at getting her in her own bed. As much as I’d like to sleep alone again, I don’t see any way to get her into her own bed. I’ve tried just about everything. We’ve had so many issues surrounding sleep, what with constant night wakings, all-night nursing marathons, night weaning, napping on me, nightmares, potty training, and missing me during overnights with dad.

And finally, finally, (knock on wood) we are finally at a place where we both get good enough sleep. I am finally able to put her to sleep in my bed, and get up for a few me-hours in the evening without screams of terror every 45 minutes.

I am not getting awoken throughout the night for feedings or linen changes. After four years of constant wakings at night, I’m sleeping very regularly now. Sure, with a gangly, long-legged 4.5 year old pushing up against me all night and using me as a body pillow. But still, it’s the best sleep I’ve had since I was pregnant. I thought that was bad. Boy was I wrong.

She has her own room, with her own bed. She’s even attempted to sleep in there a couple of times. But overall, she’s just not ready.

So, I’ll wait her out. And that’s how it happens.

Almost аnуоnе we knоw ѕnоrеѕ. This hаѕ been a wоrld-wіdе рrоblеm аnd mоrе аnd more snorers аrе seeking fоr thе реrfесt stop snoring remedy. But аrе they аll ѕаfе for uѕе? Iѕ thеrе a ѕnоrіng rеmеdу thаt one ѕhоuld bе аvоіdіng? Lеt us fіrѕt fіnd out the саuѕеѕ аnd some of thе ѕnоrіng rеmеdіеѕ аvаіlаblе аnd find out whісh оnеѕ аrе tо bе аvоіdеd. Snoring affects a реrѕоn’ѕ ԛuаlіtу and ԛuаntіtу оf sleeping аnd because оf this іt wіll lеаd tо fаtіguе, іrrіtаbіlіtу аѕ wеll аѕ hеаlth рrоblеmѕ.

Idеntіfуіng the саuѕе of ѕnоrіng
People ѕnоrе for dіffеrеnt rеаѕоnѕ аnd fіt іn dіffеrеnt саtеgоrіеѕ. Some mау hаvе еxtrеmе ѕnоrіng problems whіlе оthеrѕ mау have оnlу lighter соnсеrnѕ. Gеttіng tо thе bottom оf it wіll hеlр us dеtеrmіnе the рrореr аррrоасh.

Gеnеrаllу, ѕnоrіng іѕ caused bу too much tissue іn the thrоаt аnd nаѕаl аrеа, оr blосkаgе оf аіrwауѕ whісh саuѕе vibration аnd рrоduсеѕ ѕnоrе ѕоundѕ. Thе роѕіtіоn of the tongue mау аlѕо bе thе саuѕе of ѕnоrіng. Try to evaluate thе rеаѕоnѕ why уоu ѕnоrе and whеn оr hоw оftеn you ѕnоrе will аіd іn dіrесtlу аddrеѕѕіng whеthеr thе саuѕе саn be ѕеlf-соntrоllеd or nоt. Fortunately, nо mаttеr what саuѕеѕ thе snoring thеrе аrе countless аррrоасhеѕ for ѕtорріng ѕnоrіng thеѕе dауѕ.

Hеrе’ѕ a list оf the vаrіоuѕ ѕnоrіng рrоblеmѕ:
• Agе may bе a саuѕе оf snoring duе tо the narrowing аnd dесrеаѕіng оf thе throat.
• Snoring саn bе hеrеdіtаrу or duе tо bоdу tуре. Mеn most lіkеlу are prone tо ѕnоrіng because thеу hаvе a nаrrоwеr thrоаt, enlarge аdеnоіdѕ, сlеft palate, and thе likes.
• A person mау hаvе nаѕаl аnd sinus problems. Air passageways thаt аrе blосkеd bесаuѕе оf mucus or еxсеѕѕ tissue will result to breathing dіffісultу whісh іn turn wіll lеаd tо ѕnоrіng.
• Bеіng оvеrwеіght іѕ аnоthеr cause of ѕnоrіng duе tо fatty tissues аnd рооr muscle tоnе.
• Exсеѕѕіvе іntаkе оf аlсоhоl, smoking іnсrеаѕеѕ thе change ѕnоrіng.
• Slееріng postures, like laying flat оn the back, саuѕеѕ thе thrоаt tо relax thеrеfоrе blocking thе аіr раѕѕаgе which again саuѕеѕ ѕnоrіng.

Tо ѕum it uр, ѕnоrіng іѕ саuѕеd bу thе nаrrоwіng оf аіr раѕѕаgе іn уоur nоѕе аnd thrоаt оr duе to thе tongue position.

Thеrе are vаrіоuѕ rеmеdіеѕ tо ѕtор ѕnоrіng thеѕе days. Bе patient in fіndіng оut whісh оnеѕ аrе gооd fоr уоu and which ones ѕhоuld bе аvоіdеd.

Stаrt ѕоlvіng thе рrоblеm thе nаturаl wау bу changing sleeping habits. Sleep with thе proper posture, use ріllоwѕ, ѕlеер sideways tо lеt аіr flоw frееlу. If thе ѕnоrіng рrоblеm саrrіеѕ оn try сhаngіng еаtіng hаbіtѕ and lose wеіght if nесеѕѕаrу. It wіll not juѕt іmрrоvе your рhуѕіԛuе but іt will аlѕо give you gооd health.

Clеаr a stuffy nose, use decongestants оr nаѕаl ѕtrірѕ tо аllоw аіr раѕѕаgе. Smоkіng mау also саuѕе ѕnоrіng due tо іrrіtаtіng thе membrane іn thе nоѕе аnd throat thuѕ releasing a ѕnоrіng ѕоund.

If ѕnоrіng cannot be cured naturally, іt іѕ better to ѕtаrt lооkіng for a stop ѕnоrіng dеvісе. Thеrе аrе dеvісеѕ readily аvаіlаblе іn ѕtоrеѕ right nоw ѕuсh as nasal strips, nasal vаlvе dіlаtоrѕ, CPAP, dеntаl аррlіаnсеѕ, ѕtор ѕnоrіng ѕрrауѕ, аnd mаnу mоrе.

However, if snoring still dоеѕ not ѕtор thаt means the lаѕt option wоuld be ѕurgеrу. And this is the one stop snoring rеmеdу thаt you ѕhоuld avoid іf possible. At аll tіmеѕ dеаl with snoring рrоblеmѕ bу uѕіng a nаturаl approach, еxеrсіѕе оr dеvісе.

What About Bob?

I don’t know how Bob got the name. Something about Bob wanting to break up with Ben, my son. I said it in jest and it just took. During the times I didn’t want to breastfeed, somewhere between a meltdown and bad day, I would say to myself or maybe even out loud, “Ben — Bob wants to break-up with you.” Some days I will be honest, I hated breastfeeding. I wanted to slip out the back Jack, make a new plan, Stan…” but I continued breastfeeding because I finally got to a place where I trusted my instinct and my choices. I knew that Ben would decide when it was time to end breastfeeding. I dropped the worry. I dropped the internal criticism. I just followed my heart.

OPEN ROAD SMALLER FILE — Photo by Megan Oteri

I had a hard time with breastfeeding at first. It was awful. Nipple scabs. Bloody nipples. Pain. PAIN. And more pain. I remember being determined to make it work, but it was awful. Those first weeks of breastfeeding were some form of torture. When my son latched on, it was so painful. I felt like my nipples were rocks with the sensitivity of an ocean full of neurotransmitters right to my breasts and nipples.

We got through it. I called La Leche League. I called friends. I called my mom. But I felt like a failure. Nobody had told me it would be this hard. Nobody mentioned my nipples would have scabs and bleed. My husband came home with four different bags of candy on a particularly hard day. In his hands, he held two bags of candy, creams, Soothies (gel like cooling pads you place over your nipples) — and kindness that can not be measured. He was also draped in some sort of patience suit — he had to have been because I was not at my best those early weeks of breastfeeding. He hugged me. He kissed me. He knew this was something he could not empathize with, but he did offer sympathy. I devoured the bags of candy. Then I put on the cream and placed the Soothies over my breasts. I had a sense of relief for about fifteen minutes, until the next time my son wanted to breastfeed.

I did it all wrong. I had no clue what I was doing. I had never heard of Attachment Parenting. The lactation consultant that the hospital sent over to do a check-in at the home made a ten minute stop at my house. I stumbled to the door and managed to say hello. She gave me a hand held breast pump, quickly explained how to use it and sat with me on the couch for five minutes watching me breastfeed. I was desperate for information.

“Is this the right position?” I asked impatiently.

“Yes,” she offered.

“Are you sure?” I was so desperate — so clueless. So hormonal. OK — I was crazy. I hadn’t slept in a week. As they say in the South, I was a hot mess!

“Is this the easiest way to breastfeed?” I asked, hoping to dig an answer out of her.

“Yes,” she offered again, this time checking something off on her clipboard.

“Can you please show me an easier way to breastfeed? I feel like I am doing it wrong.”

“You’re doing it right.”

She showed me the football hold, telling me this may be easier for me. As my son fumbled in my arms, I felt foreign in my own body. I felt clumsy, unsure, and awful.

Why does it feel like I am doing it wrong? Why does it hurt so much? I wanted to ask.

She left my house. I wanted to scream at her, “Get back over here. We’re not done here. In fact we have not even started. Cancel all your appointments — you are mine for the afternoon.” But I said goodbye and she went on to the next home, the next mom, who was probably just as afraid and insecure as I was.

I called La Leache League immediately after she left and was hysterical, gasping into the phone. I think I thought they too were the enemy and asked them a slue of questions, ending each one with, “You guys probably think I am doing it wrong.”

For some reason they were the enemy. My own breasts were the enemy. The nipples scabs were the shrapnel wounds. My own son, the heavy artillery.

So, what did work? How did we get to a happy healthy breastfeeding relationship? I worked at it. I suffered through the pain. I called my friend, Debra — who nursed all her children until they were three. She sat with me while I nursed. She watched me. She assured me I was doing it right. I finally allowed myself to believe her. She was very honest. She told me it would hurt until Ben and I got used to each other. She said it took time. It was something new for the both of us. He was learning how to breastfeed, just as much as I was learning to breastfeed.

I went to a local nursing mothers support group. We sat in a circle with our newborn babies — staring at each other and our babies. I broke the ice by saying, “My boobs feel like they are going to explode.” Then we all exchanged stories, fears, laughter, tears. A good friend of mine who was in my Lamaze class suggested I switch my nursing pillow. I ditched the one I was using and took her suggestion.

During the first few weeks, I used to set the alarm for every three hours, then take my Moses Basket filled with pillows, blankets, my safety pin (to remind me where I had nursed last), and the notebook where I wrote down every detail of how long my son nursed for. The basket held my pillows, the Boppy, and the nipple cream; it held my insecurity. I would slather on the cream, turn on the light to the living room, and arrange my pillows so I could start nursing. It was three AM might I add. And I insisted on turning on the living room light. I was so rigid. I was unable to let myself flow in this breastfeeding relationship. It had to be by the book, but I had no book to follow. I should have read more. I should have practiced. I should have…I should have…kept ringing in my ears. I had never heard of Attachment Parenting. I was determined to do it by the book. I even called a friend to ask her about using a pacifier. “I don’t want him to get nipple confusion.” We had an awkward conversation, filled with frantic questions, but answers seemed so far away. I felt alone and lost.

My friend, Debra, who came over and supported me with her smiles, tender looks, and approving nods, just said simply, “Why don’t you nurse him in your bed? Let’s try it. It is much easier lying down.”

I said, “No way, he is NOT coming into our bed. I might roll over him and crush him.”

She just smiled. I knew she knew something I didn’t. I was so determined to use the football hold and the across my chest hold.

Organically, Ben found his way into our bed and we co-slept as a family. I did not roll over him; I did not crush him. In fact, my husband commented on how protective I was of him when we slept, with my arm arching over him like a rainbow.

March 25, 2012 Rainbow Sky Cloud Sighting Adventure 113 — Photo by Megan Oteri

The truth is, I had to go back to work when my son was four months old; I was exhausted waking up in the middle of the night. I stopped setting my alarm every three hours and learned to trust the fact he would cry when he needed to be fed. He did. We figured it out. Along the way, I learned to trust my own instincts. I became the gardener in our organic garden of mother and son.

nikon 6-1-2012 245 — Photo by Megan Oteri

We learned together and found our way.

I told my friend, Debra, that there was no way my son would reference my breast by name. There was no way.

She told me a funny story about her three year old having a temper tantrum over wanting Ninny. Her daughter was eating spaghetti by the handful in her high chair. Messy red clumps of sauce on the floor, on the chair, on her hair. Her daughter called out, “Ninny, Ninny, Ninny. I want Ninny.”

Well, now that my son is two and half, he often would ask for the breast by name. In this case, “Bob.” He would say, “Bob inside. Can I have milk inside Bob?” Bob became his comfort, his nurturer, his friend. We decided that we would stop breastfeeding when Ben was ready. Ben has recently stopped. He sometimes lays his head on my breast, smiling and patting Bob.

Observations in Attachment Parenting in Bangladesh – Guest Post by Annie Urban

Around the world, parents love their babies. They do what they think is best to keep them safe, to nurture them, and to help them grow into exceptional human beings. In many Western countries, attachment parenting is being celebrated as a positive choice that parents can make, while in may traditional cultures it is what they’ve been practicing all along.

In September, I had the amazing opportunity to travel to Bangladesh with Save the Children Canada to visit their health and nutrition and education programs. While the main goal of the trip was to understand the needs of children in those countries and have the opportunity to observe the positive results that Save the Children’s programs are having, I found it fascinating to be able to observe similarities and differences in parenting styles and choices.

Although I didn’t have the opportunity to spend enough time with families there to get an in-depth understanding of their parenting styles, there were some observations I was able to make as it relates to some of the principles of attachment parenting.

Prepare for pregnancy, birth and parenting: A lot of remote communities in Bangladesh haven’t had access to health workers or authoritative health information to help women in the community to prepare for pregnancy, birth and parenting. Women have given birth at home, on dirt floors, without a trained birth assistant present. Through Save the Children Canada’s programs, communities are able to found birth centres that act as a central point to care for midwives to care for mothers throughout their pregnancy, birth and postpartum period. The health workers there visit mothers at home during their pregnancies to check in on them and educate them. These communities have also established community action groups and engaged community volunteers to help identify health problems that mothers and babies are facing and to find ways to address those through education and care in their communities.

Feed with love and respect: According to the WHO Global Data Bank on Infant and Young Child Feeding, 98% of babies in Bangladesh are breastfed and the average age of weaning is 33 months. Dig even deeper and you’ll see that 95% of one year olds are still being breastfed as are 91% of two year olds. I was incredibly impressed with these statistics. The idea of a mother being unable to breastfeed is foreign to them because it is so rare that significant breastfeeding problems occur. Breastfeeding is a part of their culture and formula is something that is unnecessary and unaffordable for most. Breastfeeding on cue is the norm in Bangladesh and if anything mothers there need to be taught about the importance of introducing solids at the right time instead of relying on just breast milk to meet the baby’s nutritional needs for too long.

Use Nurturing Touch: One of the ways that women around the world keep their babies close to them is through babywearing. Many traditional cultures have types of wraps or carriers that they use and a lot of those have been adapted and adopted in Western cultures. I was curious to see how the moms carried their babies in Bangladesh and was surprised to find out that they don’t use carriers at all. It isn’t that they were using strollers (they weren’t) or that the babies weren’t being held (they were). But whenever I saw babies they were being carried on a mom’s hip or sitting on a mom’s lap. When I asked why no carriers, I was told that it just isn’t part of their culture and that there are always enough hands around (grandmothers, aunts, friends, etc.) that when the mother needs to put the baby down to do something, someone else can hold the baby. That made a lot of sense to me within a home or community environment, but I have to admit I was tired just watching some of these moms walk along long paths or roads with a large baby on their hip supported by their arm.

Ensure Safe Sleep, Physically and Emotionally: Cribs? What cribs? In all of the homes that we visited in Bangladesh, it was a given that the mom would sleep with the baby. In fact, most homes had only one or two rooms and the whole family slept together in one bed. Educational materials around breastfeeding always picture the mom lying in bed with the baby to nurse at night.

Provide Consistent and Loving Care: In most families and in the Bangladeshi culture, it seems as though consistent and loving care is the norm. Babies are kept close and as they get older, they are given more independence and responsibility, but families remain very close with everyone living in one small space and often working together in the family business. Unfortunately, for some families, that isn’t the reality. If they cannot afford to feed all of their children, they may send some of them away to work as servants (child domestic workers) in another family’s home, often far away. Those children may be sent away as young as six years old, will have no regular contact with their families back in their village, and are often mistreated and abused by the families they are working for.

Overall, from what I saw in Bangladesh, the principles of attachment parenting are very much a part of their culture. They are very community-minded and the village steps in to help raise children in a nurturing environment, helping them to overcome some of the challenges to attachment parenting that are created by the isolation of the nuclear family in Western cultures. The challenges they face are due to the dire economic circumstances that sometimes prevent them from being able to parent in the way that they would like, creating a lot of heartbreak for families and having dire consequences for children.

The good news though is that the work that non-profit organizations like Save the Children are doing in Bangladesh is having exceptional results. The programs are designed in a way that fits with the local culture and that is sustainable, so that communities can take control of their own health, education and destiny.

For more information

Save the Children Canada

Getting Results for Maternal and Child Health in Bangladesh Through Community Empowerment.

Four Principles To Use In Raising Children and Creating Peace In Your Family

Love. Patience. Presence. Respect.

Our role as Parent is constant…ever-changing and ever-growing. We each have different parenting styles and we each face challenges differently as well.
As an attachment parent, four of my fundamental principles are Love, Patience, Presence and Respect. There are many others but these four will sum up an important message I’d like to share today.

When we operate from Love, I believe our intentions are for Harmony, for Peace, for Happiness. If we Love kindly and gently, we hope that these things will naturally be results of our Love. I have discovered that Love, combined with Patience, Presence and Respect, will not only guide me in the direction in which to handle situations, but will also carry me through the challenging times when I truly don’t have the answers.

Please imagine yourself, as a child or as an adult, experiencing frustration, sadness, anger, or any other emotion or feeling that makes you uncomfortable. When you imagine yourself feeling that discomfort, what do you believe could take that away or at least make it easier in that moment? I ask you to imagine yourself because many times in life, it is important to put the shoes on your own feet to gain the necessary perspective in dealing with others. I find this to be true and probably most importantly, in the way we treat and listen to our children.

So often, parents decide it is their way or no way. It is this way simply because “I say so.” You are the parent, they are the children, and for many, it is thought to be the hierarchy that sets the tone for discipline and commands. I don’t believe in those methods. I believe our children deserve to be heard. I believe they deserve respect. I believe they deserve an answer and an explanation. I believe they deserve our Love. Our Patience. Our Presence. I believe we all deserve this.

No matter what is going on, crying in the middle of the night from your newborn, a screaming tantrum from your two year old, your angry four year old making a demand out of frustration…these need to be met with tenderness, calmness and composure of mind. I’m not saying this is easy. I’m not saying you won’t be challenged and tested beyond belief, because you will. I’m only sharing what works for me. I’m sharing this because the alternatives are not only damaging to your children, but they are damaging to you as well.

When we don’t take the time to truly be present and listen…when we don’t dig deeper than we think is possible for patience in a trying moment…when your love turns to anger and you lash out or lose control with your children, damage will be done. I can assure you of that. The negative feelings and situations will be prolonged, everyone will feel worse than they did initially, and someone, if not everyone, will walk away feeling misunderstood, unheard and alone.

It is my goal to nurture, love, and create harmony in my household. I believe we all want the same. When that isn’t happening, we must have the awareness of these principles at our disposal so we can easily tap into and operate from them at all times.

Love.

There was an unconditional Love that was born in me that I never knew prior to giving birth. That in itself, is the source that guides me in everything I do.

Patience.

The source of Love will give you the Patience you need most of the time but there will be moments when you think you can’t possibly keep it together for one more second. You must remember in these moments that you are capable of endurance. You are capable of self control. You can do it. Just breathe deeply. Close your eyes if you can…just for a few seconds. Stay calm.
The short term and long term effects of losing your patience and lashing out bitterly will hurt your children and you. During conflict or stressful situations, our children simply want to be heard, understood and accepted. They are trying to communicate something. If we are able to remain calm in these moments, not only will it ease their stress sooner, but it will not let the situation turn into something worse because of the anger and negativity added on top of it. You will then be able to communicate and allow for both of you to learn from the conflict. Your patience will comfort them and your empathy will encourage them to resolve the struggles within themselves in just knowing you hear them.

Presence.

Physical closeness, level headedness and a choice to be present with your children will make a difference. Not only in the quality time spent together, but this will also allow the lines of communication to be clear and open.
Whether it’s reading a book together on the couch, or when your child doesn’t want to leave the park when it’s time to go, your presence is always important. They can accept when they are doing their thing and you are doing yours…most of the time. When you are with them though, choose to be with them. It’s so easy these days with our phones and technology to get distracted. We may physically be next to them but mentally, conjuring up our next facebook status update. When you are present, they feel it. They appreciate it. They cherish it. When they don’t want to leave the park, your presence in that moment will help them understand that it’s ok. Talking on the phone while yelling at them to leave won’t have the same outcome.

Respect.

We all want to be respected, valued, recognized, adored, appreciated…
Children deserve this as well as we do as parents. When we experience this respect from others, we are empowered to be our best. We are comforted in expressing our voices. We are strengthened with Love and we are emotionally available. We discover that in times when we don’t feel respected, the walls begin to rise and the willingness to communicate and connect shuts down. This usually then shifts the relationship to “Because I said so” again where the parent believes they are the only one who deserves respect and the child’s feelings are dismissed. This will only leave your child feeling unheard, misunderstood and left without an explanation. Please respect them as human beings and by that respect, it becomes possible for you to earn theirs.

We are all doing our best and I believe these tools will help us do it better.
Let’s all make more of an effort in dealing with our children and one another lovingly, patiently, respectfully… and let’s all make an effort and the choice to be present as often as possible. It will make a difference.