Parenting Insights
By Jessica Hartman
Updated: April 11, 2019
Originally Published: April 10, 2019
While I hesitate to label myself as a particular type of parent, many might categorize me as someone who practices attachment parenting. My inclination towards research can be both a blessing and a curse. If a question piques my interest, I often find myself lost in an internet deep dive, only to surface when something more pressing in my life demands my attention. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), during my pregnancy, I found I had little else vying for my focus, allowing me to thoroughly explore what life would entail as I transitioned from being child-free to a parent.
As a first-time mom, I lacked significant experience with babies prior to this journey. I had never been a nanny, nor had I spent substantial time around infants, leaving me with little practical knowledge about caring for them. As I began listening to parenting podcasts, engaging in online forums, and following various parenting outlets, it quickly became evident that numerous decisions awaited me. Topics like breastfeeding, vaccinations, and sleep training ignited intense debates. I discovered that what one parent deemed an unthinkable choice might be seen as the only logical path by another, showcasing the vast spectrum of opinions that often contradicted one another.
For someone who values research and definitive answers, this was incredibly frustrating. How was I supposed to navigate the intricacies of baby wake times when half of the internet warned that exceeding ninety minutes of wakefulness would lead to disastrous consequences, while the other half insisted that each baby is unique and should be guided by their cues? With each inquiry, I scoured the web only to emerge with a resounding “I don’t know.” Lacking strong convictions about specific parenting methods, I decided to adopt a flexible approach—waiting to see what my baby needed when he arrived.
However, one area did eventually crystallize for me: sleep training. After considerable deliberation, I resolved to forgo it. I admire those who can stick to a sleep training regimen, but I recognized that I didn’t possess the emotional resilience to endure what could be prolonged crying sessions.
In the first six months of my son’s life, he was rocked to sleep by either my husband or me. If he showed signs of sleepiness without dozing off on his own, I would take him to his room and rock him until he fell asleep. Sometimes, this process was swift, while other times, it could stretch into an hour, especially if he was overstimulated. Despite my fatigue, I persisted until he was peacefully asleep.
One evening, I found myself unable to locate his pacifier after I had already prepared him for bedtime. Not wanting to disrupt his peaceful environment, I decided to lay him down for a few moments while I searched. To my surprise, he cried when I placed him in his crib. I was unaware of how long I had been gone—maybe five or ten minutes—but when I returned, he was sound asleep.
This moment was enlightening. I realized that although he had cried himself to sleep, he had always done so in my arms. My son rarely cried, and I felt fortunate that his tears were usually reserved for moments of fatigue. I had been so focused on soothing him and helping him fall asleep that I had overlooked the fact that he often cried during the process. This revelation prompted me to try a different approach: allowing him to learn to self-soothe, even if it meant letting him cry for a bit.
I established parameters for how long I would let him cry, ready to intervene if he reached a certain pitch or seemed excessively distressed. In the following days, I would place him in his crib, and he typically cried for about 10 to 15 minutes before drifting off. Interestingly, he fell asleep faster and cried less when I wasn’t rocking him. In fact, when I tried to intervene during longer crying spells, my presence seemed to agitate him further, escalating his cries instead of calming him.
My intention in sharing this story isn’t to advocate for or against sleep training. I see it merely as one of many choices parents face, and we each choose what feels right for our families at any given time. Initially, I relied heavily on internet advice when I decided to rock my baby to sleep and to never leave him while he cried. What I ultimately learned was that the online world couldn’t truly know my baby. I needed to observe and listen to him. Each child is unique and has specific needs, and I found it essential to trust my parental instincts as my son guided me. This is wisdom that no online source could have provided.
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In summary, parenting is a personal journey filled with unique challenges and decisions. Trusting your instincts and listening to your child’s cues can often lead to the most meaningful insights—lessons that the internet may not always provide.
Keyphrase: parenting insights
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