Growing Families:
No Fear
By Celeste Land
Vienna VA USA
From: NEW BEGINNINGS, Vol. 17 No. 2 March-April 2000 pp. 53-54
"Your daughter is simply
amazing!" remarked the gymnastics instructor, watching four-year-old
Leila walk confidently across the high balance beam. "She has absolutely
no fear whatsoever."
No fear? Really? My daughter?
As I watched Leila proudly jump off the high beam, my mind went back
in time.
While I entered motherhood
strongly committed to natural childbirth and exclusive breastfeeding,
most of my other ideas about parenting were pretty traditional. I envisioned
my baby sleeping long stretches or playing quietly (in her crib, of
course!) while mother and father did grown-up projects and activities.
There would be plenty of babysitters, and I planned to go back to work
or back to school if staying at home proved to be "too boring."
In short, life would be pretty much business as usual.
Leila arrived with a completely
different agenda. I found myself with a fussy, colicky, high-need baby
right out of one of Dr. Sears' worst-case-scenarios. Leila was one of
those babies who required constant nursing, constant carrying, constant
stimulation - and still seemed to cry non-stop during her first four
months. She rarely slept more than a few minutes at a time during the
day, and then only while in someone's arms. To further complicate the
picture, Leila figured out early on that mother was the only one who
could meet her strong needs. Her father and grandfather (who lived with
us) were unacceptable to her; she wouldn't even let them hold her during
the early months unless she was sound asleep.
In the months that followed,
I went to many LLL meetings and learned how best to meet my baby's needs.
Yet, even as I became adept at non-stop nursing, babywearing, the family
bed, and living with a constant companion, I still envied my mainstream
friends and neighbors with same-aged babies who spoke of going back
to work, dates with their husbands, and activities outside the home.
Their babies seemed more sociable, happier, and more independent. "I'm
doing all this because I have to, because my baby is different,"
I told myself. "If I had a baby like theirs, I'd do things differently,
too."
As the months went along,
Leila's colic subsided, but her high needs continued. My active, alert
baby needed constant entertainment and constant company. Leila was frightened
and distrustful of so much: strange people (especially men), strange
settings, strange situations, and separation from mother for even a
second. It was a year before she felt comfortable spending even a few
minutes with her father or grandfather without me in the room. She was
an early walker and an exceptionally early talker, but often refused
to do either when strangers were present. She was also physically timid
compared to her peers, reluctant to explore, climb, or take risks of
any sort.
Nevertheless, as Leila entered
her spirited toddler years, I began to appreciate the long-term benefits
of being so very sensitive to her needs. My friends with more traditional
parenting styles watched in horror as their "easy" babies
became "difficult" toddlers. They had not had to invest thousands
of hours in getting to know their babies, and now they didn't have a
clue as to why their children were suddenly misbehaving or throwing
tantrums. It wasn't that Leila didn't have her share of tantrums and
limit-testing, but I knew my baby so intimately that I could easily
provide appropriate discipline. Also, I had a secret weapon that my
friends lacked. I could still nurse my child whenever she fell down,
threw a tantrum, or just got frustrated with the world.
By the end of Leila's second
year, I had become so convinced of the value of breastfeeding and meeting
children's emotional needs that I became an LLL Leader. Yet there were
still some secret doubts in my mind as to whether we were on the right
track. Even compared to the other toddlers in our LLL Group, Leila's
behavior sometimes seemed extreme to me. Other Group members with almost-two-year-olds
were seemingly well into the weaning process; but my daughter had just
taken her first real helping of solid foods at the ripe old age of 20
months and still nursed with the frequency and intensity of a newborn.
Other Group members could go to the bathroom or walk across the room
or around a corner without their children getting totally upset. Babysitters,
dates, preschool . . . all those things seemed as far away as the moon.
At that time, I didn't know
many mothers or Leaders with high-need children. I got most of my support
through reading such books as Dr. Sears' THE FUSSY BABY and Mary Sheedy
Kurcinka's Raising Your Spirited Child, both available through
the LLLI Catalogue. LEARNING A LOVING WAY OF LIFE, the anthology of
stories from LLL members, was especially helpful because it had many
stories about fearful, clingy babies who received lots of responsive
parenting and went on to be brave, confident older children and adults.
These stories kept me going on days when I doubted myself the most.
The next two years were a
time of slow, steady social growth for Leila. Around her second birthday,
she finally felt comfortable enough with her father to go on a two-hour
outing without me. By her third birthday, she was able to play happily
with friends while we went out on a date. As Leila's comfort with new
people and places slowly increased, her need to nurse slowly decreased.
By her third birthday, she had started sleeping through the night and
had cut back to "only" nursing six or seven times a day. Four
months later, she weaned herself completely.
Oddly enough, while Leila
matured socially, many of her "independent" friends went through
a period of social regression. Their mothers complained about separation
anxieties and difficulties adapting to new situations. Meanwhile, my
daughter was learning to take such matters in stride.
Shortly after Leila's fourth
birthday, she and I (along with newborn baby brother Adam in a sling)
signed up for a "Mom and Me" gymnastics class at the local
recreation center. Leila learned about gymnastics that fall, while I
learned about how much my little girl had grown up. My physically timid,
apprehensive, clingy little baby had grown into a brave, poised, self-confident,
outgoing little gymnast, a "big girl" who didn't really need
her mother in class at all. Her maturity and independence in contrast
to the other four-year-olds were stunning, especially considering that
she was the only child in the class who had not gone to preschool. And
now, here was the gymnastics teacher saying that my daughter had "no
fear."
Today, Leila is six years
old, and I am a "gymnastics mom." I watch her perform at the
recreation center, while two-year-old Adam thoughtfully watches the
gymnasts and tries to copy their moves.
Adam is his sister's opposite
in so many ways-calm, laid-back, cheerful, adaptable, more willing to
explore, more willing to separate. If Adam had been my first child,
I probably would not have become an advocate of attachment parenting.
I probably would have gone back to work when he was a few months old.
I probably would not have learned the joys of extended breastfeeding,
baby wearing, or shared sleeping. Adam probably wouldn't have objected
too strongly. But we would have missed out on so much closeness together.
Thank goodness for that screaming little baby Leila who taught me so
much about being a mother.
Adam at two years is currently
going through a phase of separation anxiety. He needs to nurse frequently,
he suddenly acts bashful with strangers, and he gets hysterical if I
try to leave the room without him. Will he outgrow this phase? Oh yes,
of that I have no fear. Absolutely no fear whatsoever.
Reprinted from the August
1997 issue of Visions, Area Leaders' Letter for LLL of
Virginia.
Page last edited Sun Oct 14 09:29:57 UTC 2007.
