When I turned 30, and just before Maple turned 2, our little family of 3 took a trip down to San Marcos Texas for a yoga weekend. While we were there I had our star charts read by a Vedic Astrologer. There were lots of amazing insights that came out of those readings, but the piece of information that has stuck with me the longest- as it has subsequently proven itself again and again- was when Maple’s stars told us that she was not going to be one to ever take our word for anything and instead was going to have to learn her lessons in life for herself. And, as one might suppose, this is both wonderful and terrible. But it is her personality and we have all grown familiar with both the ups and the downs of that particular feature.
I think in part that we set a precedent early on for her to call the shots. I let her lead almost exclusively from the very beginning. So many of my choices as a parent were informed by 2 things: attachment parenting, and the inherent fear that I would fuck her up in ways I believed myself to be fucked up which obviously must be the fault of my own parents and their parenting choices. Sound familiar? One of my clearest memories from Maple’s early days was at our one week postpartum home visit when our Midwife was holding Maple, and Maple had found her thumb and was fiercely sucking at it- as a newborn will do. She looked at me and said: Do you want her to self sooth or wouldn’t you rather it be you that soothes her? And in that moment, amid the doubt and insecurity and postpartum hormones, I made a choice to be the one that soothed my baby. It wasn’t a bad choice and I can see why I made it- especially as a first time mama. I wanted her to feel loved and safe and secure and I couldn’t understand how someone who had just lived inside of my body was going to be capable of any of that outside of my arms. And so we went. I parented her that way for better or worse for years. Through immense tenderness as well as unbelievable tension and difficulty. I wouldn’t change it. But I would be amiss to have not learned anything from it.
What I know now, with big kids as well as an infant in my care, is that we cannot spare our children the discomfort of growing. Everything that comes at us in life is at first new and the new never arrives with a sense of familiarity and ease but rather in the arms of uncertainty and a degree of discomfort. We cannot spare them that. Not if we ever want them to be capable and self-reliant individuals one day. But, is it hard to have that perspective with a newborn? Um, yeah. 100%. Which is why it is a good thing that we have the opportunity to begin small, with baby steps as it were.
early days in the swaddle. snug.
For example, we choose to swaddle Wilfred and as soon as he got the hang of it, I was like: ugh, this would have been so good for Maple! (side note: Maple and Wilfred have very similar temperaments around sleep. Eider was pretty much an easy peasy sleeper from the get go so didn’t need as much. Interestingly, the support that we have been providing Wilfred around sleep has caused him to seem more similar to Eider in his calm security and ease.) However, did Wilfred like the swaddle the first time we put him in it? No! He cried. But he cried because it was new and with Chris and I there to comfort him through the discomfort of the new, it became something that he accepted with joy. It has been the same with everything that we have introduced to him. Tub time. Baby wearing. His black out sleep tent. At first there are some tears. But as our sleep consultant so brilliantly continues to remind me: the tears are there because that is what our baby has to communicate his feelings with. He is communicating so many different emotions with a very limited resource but if we listen it really doesn’t take long to understand the differences in his cries. What ones are simply his discomfort and what ones are urgent. But here is the deal, we are responding either way so he is not being left alone to “cry it out”. It just might be that we are not comforting him in the way that would more often than not be his first preference. I mean, if you had the option to snuggle a big fluffy breast every time you were uncomfortable, wouldn’t you take it?
OK. I know that I am in touchy territory here. I come from an attachment parenting background as I said earlier and in many ways, I adhere to that. I really do tend toward being baby/child led. I am responsive and present with my kids. But there were a few things this time around that I knew that I didn’t want to do and one of those things was to nurse all night long for 2+ years. So for us that looks like not bed sharing. And listen, Maple and Eider didn’t even have their own beds until they were almost 4. So. I’ve done it. And I get it. And I LOVE snuggling with my babies all night long. It is a sacrifice that I am consciously making in favor of better sleep habits and dare I say, some autonomy that allows for me to share sleep time with my husband and not just my babe.
In his Zipadee. Or bat suit as we refer to it.
So, how about some details regarding sleep training? If you’ve made it this far, you’ve really earned it. And let me begin by stating that I hate the word training in this context. I also am not very fond of referring to it as conditioning. And yet, both of those terms fit the bill. Perhaps we will all be a bit less triggered if I use the term support? Because that is at the heart of what I aim to do. I want to support Wilfred in building healthy sleep habits as well as in cultivating the confidence in knowing how to find comfort and security in rest. I am going to begin by sharing with you the tools that have made sleep more supported and easier for him. They have been game changers for us and none of them have been very difficult to introduce.
First, a sound machine. Good lord this is everything. It’s loud in the womb yo. At first I thought that the purpose of a sound machine was to block out distracting or disruptive noises that could startle him or wake him up. And while it is that, it is primarily to keep some continuity with the sounds that he grew accustomed to in my belly. I think it is something like 80 decibels of sound in there so really not quiet. We have a sound machine in our room by his bassinet and a portable one that I take in the car or have even tucked into my carrier when wearing him. It is basically like a miracle and such an easy hack that I cannot believe that I didn’t have one with our first 2. Seriously. Worth its weight in gold.
In arms. Heart.
Next, the swaddle. Snug and secure and comfy. We used a bunch of different ones for the first few months but the easiest was by far the Ollie Swaddle. At right around 10 weeks I transitioned him to a Zippadee which still provides some containment and reassurance when he startles but is roomy enough for him to roll in so that it is not a safety issue. He really likes his Zip. I think at some point I may transition him into a sleep sack but for now this works great. He loves it. Like, a lot.
OK. Darkness is next. And this is a pain in the ass and potentially expensive when you are room sharing which we are for the foreseeable future. So instead of dealing with the windows we are using a Slumber Pod black out tent that fits well over his bassinet but will be prohibitive over a full size crib. We are looking at mini cribs as a way to keep the same functionality. And like I said, he really did not like the tent at first. He cried. I comforted. It took maybe 3 tries max before he accepted it and now it is simply a part of his routine. Right now we just use it for naps but I think we will use it for night as well sooner or later and certainly when the days are longer and there isn’t an easy 12 hours of darkness anymore.
I think those are the big props. A rocking chair is nice too for obvious reasons but not so necessary beyond the first couple of months.
So let’s talk behaviors. Or sleep practices if you will. Often called sleep hygiene. These are a little bit more difficult for the obvious reasons. It is hard to adjust our behaviors. We are creatures of habit, especially when our habits are easy and serve to avoid discomfort as most are ought to do. The biggest thing is wake windows. They obviously grow as you go. Wilfred’s were so short in the beginning. At just over 4 months we are now anywhere from 90-135 minutes. Right around 2 hours seems to be just right. Sometimes a little more and sometimes a little less. But let me pause right here to say that this is not a fix that once you’ve done it then it is set. It is on-going like all of parenting. It requires consistency and appropriate tweaks from time to time. There are so many variables. And as simple as it seems, consistency can often be difficult in the midst of dynamic daily living. Life happens. But I am trying to watch the clock and that helps. If I just watch my baby I am more often than not up shit creek because by the time he looks tired he is generally over-tired and falling asleep will be difficult and whatever tears I had been hoping to avoid will be guaranteed.
I lie my baby down awake. This one can be a challenge, especially in the sleepy newborn days, but the more that I can do it the longer the sleep has a chance of being because he knows where he is when he transitions through a sleep cycle as it is the same place that he fell asleep. Not someplace that he surprised to find himself in. (this is also where the black out tent comes in immensely handy. Especially during and after the 4 month sleep regression when they are moving from newborn to adult- believe it or not- sleep cycles, and are needing to learn how to link the 30 minute cycles that are natural to all of our sleep. Darkness helps.) I know if I have stretched a wake window a little too long because he cries a bit. And as much as I would love to say this never happens, it does. About 50% of the time. It is a moving target and I am hoping to improve here. But they are tears of discomfort and not of need and I am there for him through it. Even if I am not giving him his first choice in comfort which would be a warm breast. And the crying never lasts more than 5 minutes. Usually less than a minute. If it goes on I will hold him and often nurse him and try to get the rhythm better next time. I’m not going to force anything. I want that to be clear. It is like Wilfred and I are doing a dance here. Picking up on each others cues and following each others lead and seeing if we can grow our own abilities. It is a moving target, like I said, but one that I believe is helping him to build a skill that will last him his whole life and will also help him in understanding that it is ok to be uncomfortable when you are in the process of learning something new. That there is often discomfort in the growth process and to bypass that is only a temporary fix to an inevitable necessity. I could go on here and it is a bit of a tangent but it bears mentioning that my kids, especially Maple, has had to navigate that discomfort in bigger and more painful ways later on and I do wonder if she would have been more equipped to navigate it if I hadn’t taught her that the only comfort that she had was me- which is of course sometimes effective and often frustrating.
Ugh. OK. Perhaps the hardest and most important piece in getting this dance right has been to move Wilfred’s feedings to the earlier end of his wake windows. In other words, not nursing him in the half hour before I put him to bed. Or disrupting his feed to sleep association. Especially for the night. It is becoming super predictable in a way that makes me kick myself when I fuck it up. Last night for instance. I knew that he was distracted when I nursed him before his tub. And I also knew that if I didn’t offer him milk again before lying him down that he would cry. So to protect primarily myself from his tears I nursed him again and sure enough he was up and crying before midnight and again at a little after 3. Now that is not so bad, but if I keep on doing it before long he will be up 4 times a night wanting to nurse. Where as if I stick to nursing him no less than 30 minutes before I lie him down for the night he will wake only once in about a 12 hour period and nurse for generally under 10 minutes before being ready to fall back asleep. And like I said before, if I get the timing right and I lie him down before he is overtired, those initial tears can be most likely be avoided as well.
Tent camping.
Other than these few tips the only other thing that I can say is that it is helpful to take a pause before responding. I give it a minute when I hear him in the night or even waking from a nap. This is difficult for me but he deserves a chance to settle himself before having me step in and do everything for him. I am shit at this. I can get myself to wait 4, maybe 5 minutes at best. But that’s all it takes. If he is going to settle himself that time is plenty. And if not, well then it’s my turn.
It has also been important for me to work directly with a sleep coach, and I feel fortunate to have found someone who is both compassionate and conscientiousness and a good fit for our family as we are right now. Before I wrap this exceptionally long, essentially stream of consciousness post up, I want to leave you with 2 things. The first being a really well stated quote from our consultant regarding tears and sleep and comfort and working through our own issues in regard to all of it. But instead of just copying and pasting her whole post here I am going to instead encourage you to go and check out @heavensentsleep on Instagram and her post entitled “Babies Cry”. She is amazing and supportive and non-judgmental in her approach to helping you and your little ones get the sleep you need. Check her out.
The second is this: Listen, I in no way want to come off as someone who is anti bed sharing. I’m not. I love it. And I think that it can be safe and healthy and affirming for everyone in your(my) family. And I also think, as much as hind sight is, ha ha ha, 20-20, I’m not sure that as a young first time mama I could have let Maple cry at all- even in the process of developing a new skill or self-soothing. I simply hadn’t worked through enough of my childhood shit at that point to be able to hold space for her through the tears and know that that is not how we damage our children. I think I still really hoped that I could protect her from all the pain of being alive. Shield her from the mess of humanity and all of our short-comings. But now, just a few weeks out from her 14th birthday, I just really know that that is not the case. So with this littlest brother of hers I am instead going to help him understand that with learning comes discomfort and I cannot protect him from that. And that does not mean that I abandon him through his growing pains. Or any of my children for that matter. I can be present even as I do not alleviate the difficulty. Or maybe the difficulty and discomfort are made more bearable through my presence. My compassion as I demonstrate or say: Hey, I know this is hard. And it would be great if we didn’t have to do it. But living is magnificent even as it is challenging and I know that you are up for it and I am here to hold your hand or rub your back when you need it, and even though I cannot take away what may sometimes hurt, I will not abandon you in it. Love you. I’m here. You can do this.
Joyful Boy.