Our Attachment Parenting Journey: A Second Chance and a Second Birth

To read Part I and Part II of this story, click the links. 
     
     After this discovery of the attachment parenting lifestyle, I began to feel comfortable as a parent. Confident, as if I had come into my own. All of these cliche things. 

     Jeff came home at the end of September that year, late at night one evening after Sam had been sleeping. I remember him peering in our bed astonished at how he had grown. He asked “But... why isn’t he in the crib?” I told him that this was how he slept. And he accepted it and we all got in bed and slept peacefully as a family for the first time in six months. Jeff was an instant father. All of the worries I had about the boys being separated for so long melted away as they became best friends. It was nice that he had no outside influences giving him ‘ideas’ about what parenting looks like, and he fell right in to our lifestyle without leaving me to feel judged. Sam slept in our bed every night. Some nights, he would start off in his crib, stretching and rolling around, waking up to jump around and then fall back asleep. But inevitably he would end up between us at some point in the early morning.

     When we found out we were pregnant with Abigail, we were elated. It had taken a little longer than Samuel, and I was over come with relief that my body was in fact working properly. The trip we took to Vermont when we were trying to conceive left all of us with wonderful family memories, but I was relieved I was finally pregnant. It was just before Sam’s first birthday.

     I immediately knew I wanted this pregnancy to be different. I was seen by a nurse practitioner for the first several weeks, after I was disappointed to find that there were no midwives in my area. I filled my mind with positive birth affirmations and read several books on natural childbirth and breastfeeding. I really liked the Bradley book, and practiced the exercises religiously. I walked with Sam in the stroller, ate healthy, and stayed positive. 

     As I neared my ‘due date’ my doctor began internal exams. He told me at 38 weeks that I still had an ‘unfavorable’ cervix. I thought this was good news, but it would seem I was wrong. He then began the induction talk. At 38 weeks! I still had 2-4 weeks to go! I was amazed. I told him that I absolutely did not want another induction and that I could go into labor on my own. His response was best described as a ‘we’ll see’ and my 39 week check up was the same as before. On my due date he scheduled a non-stress test where you lay semi reclined and very uncomfortable on a very narrow table with external monitors on, looking for contractions. I had none. In the exam room, my doctor told me that my cervix was still very high and unfavorable. I told him that I wasn’t worried, because I knew I was going to go into labor in 3 days; that I just had a feeling. He must have thought I was crazy or in a deep denial because he scheduled an ultrasound after agreeing to “allow” me to go another week without intervention. 

    Just as I had suspected, two days later I was in labor. At first I didn’t know I was. I thought I just had a stomach ache and gave Sam his bath and put him to bed like any normal day. As my belly ache got more intense, I texted Jeff saying that tonight might be the night. He asked if he should start heading home and I wasn’t sure. He works a two hour drive away, so I finally decided that yes, he should start heading home because even if I wasn’t in labor I would have his company. I sat tailor-style on the floor wrapping Christmas presents for my family; pictures of Sam in black frames. By the time Jeff got home at around 9pm I realized I was in full blown labor. I didn’t bother timing contractions because I couldn’t make myself care. The pains were intense and coming frequently, who cares what the numbers are? To deal with the cramps, I got in a hot shower and spent a long time in there letting the water rush over my back. When I got out I called my mom to start heading our way (she was going to sleep over with Sam) so we could go to the hospital. 

    In contrast to my previous scheduled induction, I was so happy to be experiencing labor on my own. I so missed having that “is this it? lets rush to the hospital in the middle of the night!” experience the first time around. I moved to a hands and knees position on the bed. The contractions were intense but I was so afraid to go to the hospital. What if I get there and I’m only 1cm? What if I’m left for hours strapped to those monitors not allowed to move? Then at 11pm my water broke and this rush of panic swept over me. First, it was meconium stained, so my dreams of laboring in the birthing tub or shower were dashed, and I was fearful for what it meant for the baby. Then, I remembered how intense the contractions got after my water broke with Sam. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle bringing my stuff to the car, the short ride to the hospital or walking in. I called my mom back and told her to hurry. She called her sister who lives right up the road to come until she got there, but they both came at the same time. 

    The less than 5 minute ride (seriously it was like a mile) to the hospital was torture. I was sitting in the car thinking of how grateful I was that I didn’t decide to deliver in Boston where the midwives are as I knew I wouldn’t have been able to tolerate the ride. We got to the hospital at around 1130 and I calmly walked through the ER waiting room (where I work) and waved to a few coworkers, trying to be the picture of serenity.

    Once on the maternity floor, the nurse gave my a johnny to change into and I remembered that I had wanted to buy a light cotton one from Dear Johnnies or some place to labor in instead. Too late now! I got on the bed and she checked me and I was surprised and to happy to hear that I was 7cm! All my hard work at home really paid off; there would be no pit drips on this girl! She also put external monitors on, but didn’t make a fuss when I wanted to labor sitting straight up sitting Indian style on the end of the bed. This was the only way I felt comfortable. At one point she DID make the comment “you don’t look very comfortable” and attempted to lay me back and put pillows all over me and one under each appendage. I immediately flashed to being stuck in that half reclined position for days on pitocin and jumped back up to my criss-cross stance. 

    As the contractions got more intense, I remember hugging Jeff around the neck with each one. At one point I wanted to bite him, and I think I actually tried. Between contractions though, no matter what anyone else says about birth, are lovely little pain free breaks, where you’re just a girl sitting on a bed. At one point I felt like my body was pushing. I wasn’t doing it, it was as if my body knew exactly what to do (funny huh?) The nurse checked me and yes, I was ready. It was about 1am I think. I had to wait for my doctor of course, so I sat in the same position on the edge of the bed not really trying to not push until he came. What I really wanted to do was just stand and push the baby out, or push kneeling on the bed. I knew it was coming, but when he came in it was immediately lay flat in lithotomy, feet up! I panicked. PANICKED! I started yelling “What? I don’t know that to do! What am I supposed to do?!” I was completely thrown off my flow. I don’t remember anyone really telling me, but I just started pushing the baby out. It hurt. It burned like no other. All I had heard was how contractions were bad and pushing felt great. I felt the opposite. I think I only pushed three or four times. I do remember reaching down and feeling the top of her head coming out because no one was telling me progress and I wanted to know. At one point I said “I never wanted a natural birth!” Which every one in the room knew was not true. 

    I saw the pediatrician come on the room (because of the meconium stained fluid). The one I disliked and still do. I will say that it is awkward giving birth in front of people you will continue to work with. But before I knew it, our precious girl was here. At 131am on December 7th, 3 days after my due date just as I had said. She went directly into the arms of the nasty pediatrician, and I feared another long exam. But he checked her over, gave a small ‘congrats’ half-wave and after I was sutured for a small tear, the nurse put her right back in my arms. 

     She was so wide awake and soft and sweet. I tried to nurse her and took to it right away (and hasn’t stopped for 18 months yet). Like it was easy, as if we had done it a million times before. I knew all of my reading had paid off. Then something magical happened. The nurse had me get up to go to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and when we were through, she put Abby back in my arms, shut off the nights and said “have a good cuddle!” Just like that!

No fights, no damning looks over ‘endangering’ the baby, no hiding our “alternate lifestyle” from strict staff. It was wonderful. And we did have a good cuddle AND a good sleep. We were both quite tired. 

    We woke up early the next morning and the first thing on my mind was getting home so that our little family was together. The nurses and OB didn’t seem to have much of an issue with it and by that evening around supper we were home.

     Adjusting to home life with Abby was so much easier than with Sam, even with a little guy under 2 running around. I think as a second time parent you are able to adjust your expectations to what works better for your family and your baby. This time I knew that she was going to sleep with me and be worn in a Moby Wrap during the day. I didn’t have those old anxieties about “spoiling” her or not being able to put her in a crib as she got older. I didn’t even try to put her in a baby seat until she was much older and when I did, she actually liked being in her little swing. We left the house plenty of times and wherever we went, whether it was the aquarium, Natural History Museum or the beach, or even just the grocery store, she was in the carrier, quiet, happy and looking around. I believe in the Attachment Parenting Book its referred to as ‘peaceful observation.’ This phrase describes Abby to a T. 

     I love these sweet memories of baby wearing at the beach, breastfeeding and baby wearing at the EcoTarium. Having a breastfed sling baby has made having a toddler so much easier. I have one arm free for him at all times. I don’t have to juggle bottles or a stroller, I can follow him around with Abby in the sling at his pace, holding his hand. 

    Another perk of AP is the amount of compassion that this style of parenting instills in children. In The Attachment Parenting Book, Dr. Sears says that when children know their needs are viewed as important and will be met with compassion, they then view other’s needs as important and pass that compassion on. I would say this is absolutely true and is one of my favorite qualities of Sam’s personality. His is the most loving little boy. He is so concerned about the happiness of others, especially his sister. He brings her snacks, blankets, when she (or anyone) cries or seems upset, he runs to her and asks “Whats wrong Abby? It’s ok!” and rubs her hair. He says “please” and “thank you,” “you’re welcome” and “excuse me.” He kisses her and shares his toys. He is generally a happy little sweet boy. I love that and I’m so glad that I listened to my instincts and ‘discovered’ this style of parenting, as I can now see the same qualities starting to emerge in Abby. She also at just one year old says “please” and “thank you.” She shares with Sam and gives out plenty of kisses and hugs. 

     I was worried as they got older, that I would 'run out' of ideas of how to parent this way; neither child sleeps with us anymore, Abby has been shunning the wrap and prefers to walk around solo. But I realize now that AP is so much more than when they're infants. Its gentile parenting, its a mind set. It's about holding a child through a temper tantrum, understanding that they are frustrated, not defiant or manipulative. Its about maintaining open lines of communication in ALL the ways they communicate. If anything, AP only expands as children grow older. 

     If you think the attachment parenting style would work for your family, or you just want to learn more, see the AP Resources links below:

• Attachment Parenting International
• Ask Dr. Sears
• The 7 Baby B's
• The Four Principles of Attachment Parenting and Why They Work- an article from Psychology Today
• The Man Who Remade Motherhood- the Time Magazine article about AP from May 2012
• The Benefits of Attachment Parenting for Infants and Children: A Behavioral Developmental View- a Harvard Medical School study posted in the Behavioral Development Bulletin

Our Attachment Parenting Journey; a Discovery

To read Part 1 of our Attachment Parenting Journey, click here.

    
     That night Jeff left. It was the worst night in either of our lives. For the next few days I held Sam and just cried, replaying the scene of Jeff holding Sam and saying good-bye over and over in my head. I now can see that I was probably experiencing post pardum depression. I have a history of situational depression, and was being treated with medication just prior to getting pregnant and had stopped taking the med on my own. My obstetrician, aware of our situation at birth had recommended that I come in for follow up one week after birth for a sort of mental status check. I work in healthcare and knew exactly what to say, and I lied through my teeth. I couldn't have anyone know that I was 'failing as a mother,' or so I thought, with my non-sleeping baby who wants to be held.  

     Probably a week later I remember calling my mom crying because I knew I was the worst mother ever. “All I do is hold him,” I wept, “the house is a mess, and I don’t even know how to give him a bath.” I didn’t have the insight to say to myself that holding him and letting the house go to Hell WAS doing something. It WAS nurturing, it WAS loving. I hadn’t realized, but Sam slept best those few days we were alone because I let him nap in my arms or on my chest. Concerned, my mother came and picked us up to spend the night at her house, where we stayed for several months.

     For weeks I came to her asking, why, 'Why doesn’t he sleep in his crib like “every other baby”? Why doesn’t he ever let me put him down?'  I honestly thought that babies slept happily in cribs, and that they would just occupy themselves in bouncy seats as their mothers showered and read magazines. Night after night I dutifully followed the advice “just keep putting him back in his crib” that everyone else around me was repeating. After all, they all had children, I never have, so what did I know? One night, exhausted, I was holding him in my bed, giving him his bottle all cuddled up in my arms trying to get him back to sleep so I could put him back in his crib as I was instructed. Hours later we both woke up, still cuddled together. He had slept. I had slept. He didn’t suffocate or fall out of bed or get trapped against the wall. We both just hugged and slept for most of the night. I was afraid to tell anyone, and this arrangement became my dirty little secret.
    Now when people would ask about sleep I would say, 'Why yes he is sleeping better, that put-him-in-the-crib trick really works!' The pediatrician asked where he sleeps at the check up; I lied. 'Yes in his crib, absolutely.' Every night we were snuggling together in my twin bed. We were so happy. Waking up to snuggles and smiles. We became so content in our situation, my feeling of failure started to dissipate and I became more confident in my mothering skills. Eventually I became tired of lying about putting him in a bassinet and sleeping peacefully. I decided that lying is what you do when you're doing something that you know is wrong and want to hide. I began to reply to the famous "is he sleeping?" question with  'yes he’s sleeping, and its because I hold him all night!' Why are people so concerned with how a newborn sleeps anyway? Why do new mothers ever hear "Is he happy?" "Isn't mothering a newborn amazing?" Or how about "You are doing a fantastic job!" Our culture automatically defaults to "how is he sleeping?" even though the asker usually knows that newborns don't sleep, all of which causes the mother to FEEL like her infant SHOULD be Rip VanWinkle and if he or she isn't then Mom must be doing something wrong. I was tired of hearing the I-told-you-so’s about how much better it was for a baby to be alone in a swing, seat, bassinet or crib because I had proof otherwise. From that moment on I heard nothing but how terrible this would be in the future. That I would never get him out of my bed. Off hand comments about how I need to put him down. "Put that baby in a crib." Our dirty little secret was out. 

I want to make clear that I am not in any way saying that what worked and continues to work for my family and my children is the ONLY way to raise and nurture a child. Nor am I saying that my beliefs are right and everyone else is wrong. Every child and family is truly different and each individual situation is dynamic and unique. Parents are responsible for finding out what works best for them and their children.  This post is about me, and my beliefs and my journey.  

     It was about that time that we moved from my parent’s house back into our apartment. I felt I needed to be alone and grow as a mother. “What kind of mother is afraid to be alone with her baby?” I thought. I felt I should be beyond the need for constant companionship and needing help with daily simple tasks like having someone watch Sam while I made bottles and showered. Perhaps I was made overly confident by how well we slept together and thought that he was ready to sleep on his own just as well. I started trying to put him to sleep in his crib again as, by all opinions, at three months old, he should be old enough to sleep all night alone in the crib. I noticed that he really liked sleeping on a C-shaped nursing pillow. Here was the key! I thought. One night I put him to sleep tucked in the pillow. I woke up that night in the middle of the night and felt like I had to go to his crib, which was just at the other side of our very small bedroom.  I was horrified by what I saw. He had slipped down in the bend of the pillow so that the pillow was slightly covering his face. His arms were limp at his side. I whipped him out of bed, startling him awake. He was fine. He had just been sleeping. But I was horrified and forever changed. We had a wonderful sleeping arrangement but I had let the pressures of other people and their beliefs alter the way I parented, and I had put my baby at risk in the process. I felt so incredibly stupid and selfish. It was a mistake I would never make again.
     After Sam was back asleep in bed next to me, I immediately texted my friends for comfort about what had happened. The next day on the phone, one of my long time friends who had four children of her own, quietly mentioned that she hadn’t slept without her youngest in her bed until she was four, and told me about Dr. Sears.  I immediately read The Baby Sleep Book. And then The Attachment Parenting Book. I was hungry for this knowledge. I was finally being told that what I was feeling and naturally doing was not a dirty secret, or selfish parenting. I was also not alone in the sea of babies sleeping through nights in cribs as I had believed until then. There was a name for this; Co-sleeping. And lots of people do it. Its a parenting style and set of beliefs called attachment parenting. I was elated. From that moment on, we didn’t spend a night apart (until he was over a year old and began preferring his crib as he could stretch out and move the way he wanted to). I began wearing him in a carrier around the house and getting so much accomplished without feeling guilty about leaving him alone to play on the floor. I lamented failing at breastfeeding and brushing it off as over rated, but I realized that AP was not an all or nothing exclusive club. I was brave against nay sayers and had books and research within them to back up my beliefs. At his next check up, when asked where he slept I proudly said “With ME! We both love it and that’s where he’s staying!” Probably at much surprise to the pediatrician.

Sam and Jeff video chatting during deployment.

Our Attachment Parenting Journey; First Birth Story

       I was inspired to write this series of posts after describing The Baby Sleep Book and The Attachment Parenting Book by Dr. William and Martha Sears, RN in the Book List post. Writing what I thought was going to be a simple book review began bringing up old memories and feelings for me from what was a very difficult time in my life. 

     Shorty after finding out that we would be having a beautiful baby boy in November 2010, we found out that Jeff would be over seas for the end of my pregnancy, possibly the birth and the first six months of Samuel’s life. We were both devastated. Instead of being excited to welcome our child into the world, I was fraught with anxiety over missing my husband, guilt over him having to miss all of the precious firsts that I would be present for and so frightened that I wouldn’t be able to care for Sam on my own. 

It's a boy!

        It was a very scary and frightening time. As I think about it, I still have a lot of anger and resentment that that sweet precious time in all of our lives was stolen. The first pregnancy and new baby as newlyweds is a once-in-a-lifetime thing that can never be replaced and we were not allowed to experience it. I had no idea what I was doing during my pregnancy. I knew I was vomiting, a lot, every day, but I didn't concern myself with learning about my pregnancy, educating myself on childbirth, infant care or what to expect after Sam was born. I thought that going to the OB for my check ups was all you were supposed to do, and I basically sailed through my pregnancy distracted over the loneliness I was experiencing with my husband so far away.  

     Thankfully Jeff was allowed to come home for three days to see Samuel come into the world. It was such a blessing at the time and such a surprise, that I knew being induced in these three days was essential to our family function. Even though I was a week before my due date and I was very unfavorable to go into labor I didn’t care. I needed my husband with me for the birth and I needed him to see Sam as a newborn before he left again. I would never chose a planned ‘premature’ induction for my family again. It took three days on pitocin for Sam to be born. It was unbelievably painful, scary and frustrating. I was confined to the bed and made to lay at an uncomfortable angle for the sake of the monitors. The nurses were rude to me, as if I were expecting the impossible and one even told me to just go home. Another said I would end up with a cesarean.  
     
     In the afternoon of the last day, I opted for an epidural, which I was determined not to have, but the contractions on pitocin were too much to bear. It didn’t work and took 7 attempts to place. I was also told not to use it as it would “drop [my] baby’s heart rate.” My water broke during an internal and was meconium stained, what I now know is a result of the intense contractions caused by artificial oxytocin.     A few hours later and after 30 minutes of pushing, Sam was born. Immediately after, pediatricians were called to the bedside, as well as several other nurses. I asked, frightened, if my baby was alright. I was met with that false “YUP!” and big grin that I use on family members when I have a very ill patient but have too many urgent things to do to be bothered to stop and give any explanations. I still don’t know what the term ‘punky’ describes, which was the only explanation I was given. Then the nurses took my baby away for the ‘routine hospital testing,’ first bath and circumcision that we had requested. 

Jeff co-sleeping with Sam before
we knew what it was.

       
     That night, when it was finally time to go to bed, the nurse told me to NOT, under any circumstances, sleep with Sam. She told me a horrible story about a baby who had fallen and gotten trapped in the side rail and died. I was encouraged to swaddle him in the hospital blanket and put him down in his artificial, plastic bassinet to sleep. I was left alone to try to breastfeed, assured that the lactation consultant would be in sometime the next day. I felt pressured to fill out the nursing log to their exact specifications, even trying to force Sam to nurse when it didn’t feel right. I was so happy that my little family was together at last, that I tried not to feel the sting of disappointment that I knew I had sacrificed the birth I wanted, that breastfeeding was not going well and I was constantly suppressing the urge to just get home where I could give him a bottle and not worry.
        
     The first night home was what I now know a perfectly normal night in that Sam did not stop crying all night. He would not sleep in his crib, he wouldn’t eat. Jeff and I were beside ourselves. We called the pediatrician at 3am saying certainly there was something wrong here, why was he crying so hard? Was he sick? In pain? The nurse on the other line end of the line said he was probably very hungry and to give him

a bottle. So we did. And he peacefully slept. And there ended breastfeeding. She also instructed us to bring him in first thing in the morning for a weight check. Which we also did. I now see how silly all of these things were. Of course he cried all night, he missed the safe warm comforts of the womb. He missed all of his needs being continually met. He was not ready to have been born but he was. We spent our last day together traveling to the pediatrician’s office for this weight check. Of course he lost weight. He was 2 days old, that’s what they are supposed to do. But we sacrificed this precious time together because we were fearful.
   
       In the very beginning of this well baby check, the nurse practitioner told be that after Sam was born he had a fever, and the cord had been around his neck several times, making him lethargic at birth. All of this was new information to me. Then she snapped at me words that I will never forget: “What, do you just hold him all the time? You have to put him down you know.” This was the moment I began distrusting the mainstream medical care culture and severely doubting my abilities as a mother. 

Welcome to Natural Mommy {In Progress}! This is the story of my journey from the typical Gerber mom to becoming more in touch with my 'natural mothering instincts' or as I call it, my 'primal mother.' It took me a lot of thought and consideration to post this blog publically. I started off writing a private journal type blog on my laptop, fearful to put my thoughts and opinions out over the intertubes. I'm posting here now to connect with like minded mothers and am completely disinterested in criticism or rudeness.
Here I'll mainly be talking about my family, breastfeeding, activities we do with the kids, natural birth, and other topics I'm passionate about. I have two beautiful children, Sam who is almost 3 and Abby who is 15 months.