Stuck Under a Baby

Tag: Attachment parenting

1,461 Days (A Letter To My Son on His Fourth Birthday)

My Dear Son,

For 1,461 days I have held your hand, carried you close, and stroked your hair.

For 1,461 days I have wiped away your tears, kissed your boo boos, wrestled with you, and tickled you until your belly ached.

For 1,461 days I have nursed you, nourished you, protected you, and bonded with you.

For 1,461 days I have watched you grow, learn, and develop your own unique personality.

For 1,461 days I have laughed with you, cried with you, and worried sick about you.

For 1,461 days I have cheered you on when you won and comforted you when you lost.

For 1,461 days I have watched you become more confident, develop a sense of humor, learn how to share and play well with others, and grow your imagination.

Photo on left: One minute old, February 18, 2009 / Photo on right: 4 years old, February 18, 2013

For 1,461 days I have pushed you to explore the world and have offered a warm lap and open arms when it was too much. For 1,461 days I have rocked you, walked with you, and driven you in circles just so you could get the rest you needed.

For 1,461 days I have cooked for you and re-cooked for you when you weren’t happy with the first selection.

For 1,461 days I have watched you crawl, walk, run, jump, hop, and ride a bicycle.

For 1,461 days I have slept by your side, listened to you breathe, and rested my hand on your beating heart.

For 1,461 days I have read to you, played with you, given you opportunities to investigate and make your own discoveries, and tried to empower you with knowledge.

For 1,461 days I have sung to you, made up stories for you, and listened to your every word.

For 1,461 days I have wished for you, prayed for you, and dreamed big dreams for you.

For 1,461 days I have loved you more and more.

For 1,461 days you have made my world… this world… a better place.

Happy fourth birthday, my darling boy.

Love,

-Mama

*************************

If you liked this post, you may also like:

Mama’s Yellow Chair:

You Can’t Spoil a Baby:

February 20, 2013
Got Breastmilk Thawing Because of Hurricane Sandy? Maybe We Can Help…

For nursing/pumping mothers in NJ still without power, we have an empty freezer and will house your pumped milk until your power is restored! Contact us if you need our help!

Please take a moment to share this on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, etc. and in with any appropriate groups. Thanks so much!

November 3, 2012
Musical Beds: Adventures in Co-Sleeping
We are a co-sleeping family. It’s completely wonderful and miserable at the same time. Long gone are the days of spooning with my husband. Long gone are the days of rolling over. Long gone are the days of getting up to pee without waking everyone else in the house.

I’ve seen many an image of moms and babes cuddled up in blissful slumber and oh so sweet photos of dads and toddlers all snuggled up peacefully dreaming together. In reality, in MY reality at least, it doesn’t usually look like that, especially since I have children who have never, in three and a half years, ever slept through the night.

At home, we have a king-sized bed with an adjacent unused toddler bed. Our nights usually end up with a few shifts in positions and snuggle partners; however, while visiting my in-laws this week, THIS is what happened. Warning: Do not try this at home.

The Game:

Musical Beds

The Playing Field:

One queen-sized bed
One twin-sized air mattress on the floor at the foot of the queen-sized bed

The Players:

Mama (Me)
Papa (My hubby)
Monkey (our 3.5 year old son)
Bear (our 1 year old daughter)

Round 1:

Mama and Bear in big bed.

Round 2:

Bear in big bed. (Mama in the bathroom.)
Papa and Monkey in little bed.

Round 3:

Papa and Bear in big bed.
Mama and Monkey in little bed.

Round 4:

Mama, Papa, and Bear in big bed.
Monkey in little bed.

Round 5:

Papa, Monkey, and Bear in big bed.
Mama in little bed.

Round 6:

Papa and Monkey in big bed.
Mama and Bear in little bed.

Round 7:

Mama and Monkey in big bed.
Papa and Bear in little bed.

Round 8:

Mama, Monkey, and Bear in big bed.
Papa in little bed.

Round 9:

Mama, Monkey, Bear, and Papa all in big bed – sleeping sideways with feet dangling off the end.

Needless to say, we were all exhausted the next day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

If you liked this post, you may also want to check these out:
October 13, 2012
Mama’s Yellow Chair

This summer, you were getting to be such a big boy. You were growing by leaps and bounds in your physical, emotional, and vocal development. You were also about to become a big brother.

Everyone told me that now that you were two and a half years old, I should send you to pre-school. I know that they were looking out for both of us – we have always been so attached and with your sister on the way, it would be good if you became more independent. I saw the value in this, but my gut told me you weren’t quite ready… and perhaps, neither was I.

Instead of waiting until after your sister’s arrival and having you feel that I was sending you away because of the new baby, I signed you up for a summer camp program at a prospective pre-school. We talked and role-played about it and you were excited. We even got you your very own backpack.

The first day of camp, I held your hand as we walked down the hall to meet your teachers. Your eyes lit up with delight at the sight of all the new toys. I hugged you goodbye and went down the hall. I was going to stay in the building just in case you needed me. I found a spot in the library and immediately began sobbing. You were growing up. Maybe you didn’t need me so much anymore.

Forty minutes in to camp, I was marveling at how well you were doing. I peeked through the window once or twice and was both proud and sad. I made sure you didn’t see me, but I wanted to tell you what a great job I thought you were doing.

I went back to the library and sat, not quite knowing what to do with myself. Then, I heard a familiar cry. The teachers had instructed everyone to clean up for snack time. It was now quiet and focused, and it was then that you realized that I wasn’t there. Although the teachers tried and tried to comfort you, you wouldn’t settle down. I paced up and down the hall, my heart breaking, wanting so badly to rescue you, but not wanting to impose on the class. After what was seemingly an eternity (but was only about three minutes), I was given the nod through the window. I came in and held you as tight as I could, always reassuring you that you were safe and loved and that, even if you couldn’t see me, Mama was never far away.

You requested that I stay with you, and the teachers allowed it. I pulled up a yellow chair and sat in the corner of the classroom. I watched as you interacted with the other children, explored on your own, and took in the whole experience. You came back for hugs now and again, but as long as you could see me, you were fine.

The next day of camp, you asked if I was going to leave. I told you that I had to go down the hall to give them a check and I would be right back. I asked your permission to leave. You told me I could go and I reassured you that if you needed me, I would come back. I hugged and kissed you and walked out of the room. You went to the art area and started painting a picture. I sighed a sigh of relief and began my journey down the hall. Seven minutes later, as my check got handed to the registrar, I felt it. I couldn’t yet hear you, but I felt you. My pace picked up as I rushed back down the hall. I knew it was you. The aide met me in the hall – she was on her way to find me. I went in and held you as you sobbed and caught your breath. “Let’s go home,” you told me in a shaky voice. I took you outside, reassured you, nursed you, and held you close. We decided after you regained your composure to go back in and play some more, with the condition that I stayed in the corner in my yellow chair.

Some would say, “Let him cry. He’ll get over it eventually.” Others would say, “He’s just not ready. Try again in a few months.” I chose an option in between. I wanted you to have the experience. I wanted you to socialize with other kids. I wanted you to gain some independence. I wanted you to learn how to let others attend to your needs. What I didn’t want was to traumatize you. I didn’t want you to fear the separation even more. I didn’t want you to feel abandoned. I didn’t want you to feel unloved.

So, every other day, we went to camp. And every other day, I sat in the corner. And every other day, I watched you play and grow. You weren’t ready and I don’t know when you will be. You still wanted me and I was okay with that. One day you’ll be ready and one day you may not need me as much anymore. But wherever you go, whatever you need, I’ll always be there for you, my love… sitting in the corner, in Mama’s yellow chair.

March 13, 2012
Reach Out and Touch Someone

The phrase “Reach Out and Touch Someone” from a Bell System phone commercial of many years ago has been stuck in my head recently. Over the last two weeks, it has become my mantra. I was feeling disconnected from my toddler son and didn’t know how to remedy it.

My son and I were attached… very attached. As a baby, he never liked to be put down. I used to wear him all the time, nurse him on demand, sleep with him on my lap or snuggled next to me, and even sit next to him in the back seat of the car when someone else was driving. As he got older and more independent, he wanted to walk on his own rather than be carried. He was nursing less frequently. Soon before my baby girl arrived, we installed her carseat in the back which eliminated my spot. Now that my baby girl is here, she and I have started sleeping in a different room to avoid having the kids wake each other up. My son and I have lost a lot of our physical (and, as a result, some emotional) connection. I think both of us started feeling the effects of this separation.

My baby girl is now being worn all the time, nursing on demand, and sleeping snuggled next to me. Occasionally, I have to squeeze into the back seat of the car to sit next to her if she really needs me to. My son is off playing and doing things toddler boys do. He is growing so fast, getting so big, and becoming more independent each day. But he still needs his mama, and his mama still needs him. My biggest question became how do I reconnect with my son?

I recently went to a free program in my town for little ones and their caregivers. I ran into a friend who is a very like-minded parent. I watched as she wore and cared for her baby boy and still maintained a strong connection to her toddler. He would wander off and go investigate a new toy or book, but would come back periodically for a “recharge.” His mother would squeeze him tight and give him a kiss and then he would happily wander off again. I had a feeling that she was on to something. This simply might be what my son and I needed. Just as we plug in our phones to recharge the battery when it starts getting low, we needed to plug in to each other to recharge our physical and emotional batteries.

When we left the program, I talked to my son about “recharging.” I explained to him that sometimes Mama needed an extra hug or kiss and sometimes he might need one. Recharges are non-negotiable. If someone needs a recharge, everything else stops and we wrap our arms around each other and squeeze until we have enough power to last us a while. I wasn’t sure how he’d respond to this concept. In the beginning, I initiated almost all of our recharges, but he happily complied. During the past week, he has been asking for more and more, and has even recharged with others including his father and grandmother. Overall, he seems happier, is feeling more connected and loved, and is reminded that we are here for him whenever he needs us.

Having noticed a difference in his demeanor and behavior, I have made a conscious effort to be a lot more affectionate towards him. We wrestle, have tickle fights, and blow raspberries on our tummies. If we’re sitting near each other, I try to physically connect to him somehow – either inviting him to sit on my lap, putting my arm around him, or just placing my hand on his knee. I can’t always get him to hold my hand while walking, but I certainly do try.

I have reached out and touched someone… a very important someone. A hug, a kiss, a squeeze, and/or a loving touch have made a world of difference in our lives. We have been revitalized. We have been reconnected. We have been recharged.

February 15, 2012
You Can’t Spoil a Baby!

Tonight, while in a restaurant, I was wearing my baby girl in my Moby Wrap. The hostess asked me what it was called and I happily told her and explained how it worked. (I swear, Moby Wrap should give me commission for how many people I’ve referred to them!) She told me that her niece who lives with her has a three month old daughter who always wants to be held and snuggled. I commented that both my kids were/are the same way. Her niece has been receiving a lot of pressure from outside sources to put the baby down and let her fuss a bit, because, as many of us have been told, they were going to “spoil the baby.” However, they have decided to go with their guts, respond quickly to the baby’s cries, and hold her if she wants to be held. Not surprisingly, they have all been happier. I smiled and told her how wonderful I thought that was and, of course, I reassured her that you can’t spoil a baby!

The hostess also told me that her niece sleeps in the bed with her baby (who has never slept in the crib or bassinet). She said that the baby sleeps very well when cuddled up to her mother, but can’t seem to sleep any other way. She thought I was going to be horrified. Again, I smiled and told her how wonderful I thought that was and, again, I reassured her that you can’t spoil a baby! The same people mentioned above have also been pressuring her niece not to sleep with her child and to make the baby sleep in a crib. They also suggest that the mother let the baby cry. To this, I was horrified. At three months old, the baby is not trying to manipulate anyone. She is crying to express a need – a need to be held, a need to be reassured, a need to be fed or changed or burped, a need to be loved. The hostess seemed to know this deep down inside. She looked relieved when I told her that we are also a co-sleeping family (our baby daughter in the co-sleeper attached to our bed and our toddler son in between us) who respond quickly to our children’s needs. She asked if we were concerned that our children would never leave our bed. I joked that I highly doubted that our kids would still be sleeping in our bed when they were teenagers. They’ll be out of there eventually, but until then, we are going to enjoy every last cuddle (well, except the ones with feet in our faces).

My reassurances seemed to lift her spirits a bit. Suddenly, the choices her niece has made no longer seem so strange, dangerous, or atypical. They were acceptable, applauded, and encouraged… well, by me anyhow. It’s ok to hold or wear your baby. It’s ok to respond to your baby’s cries. It’s ok to sleep with your baby (in a safe manner, of course). You can’t spoil a baby! I hope that my words of support will help her and her niece continue parenting in the way that feels right to them. I hope that they continue to do what works for their family and not cave to pressure of the outside world. I hope I helped someone tonight.

Here are some interesting links:

Babywearing:

http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/fussy-baby/baby-wearing/benefits-babywearing

Spoiling:

http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/child-rearing-and-development/spoiling

Safe co-sleeping:

http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/sleep-problems/sids-latest-research-how-sleeping-your-baby-safe

February 12, 2012