Although I hesitate to label myself as a specific type of parent due to the complexities of individual parenting styles, it’s likely that an outsider would categorize me as someone who embraces attachment parenting principles.
As a researcher by nature, I often find myself diving deep into the online world whenever curiosity strikes. This tendency can be overwhelming, especially when I’m engrossed in a topic, only to be pulled back to reality by pressing responsibilities. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), I didn’t have many pressing matters during my pregnancy, which allowed me to thoroughly explore what transitioning from a childless adult to a parent might entail.
Being a first-time parent with minimal exposure to infants, I knew next to nothing about caring for a baby. I hadn’t nannied nor spent significant time with friends’ children, which left me feeling unprepared. As I began listening to parenting podcasts, engaging in online communities, and following various parenting media outlets, I quickly realized I was faced with numerous decisions. Breastfeeding, vaccinations, and sleep training emerged as particularly contentious topics, with opinions often sharply divided. What one parent deemed unthinkable might be seen as essential by another, leaving me frustrated as a researcher seeking solid answers.
How was I to determine the appropriate wake times for my baby when half the internet warned that exceeding ninety minutes would lead to disaster, while the other half suggested that every child is unique and that I should follow my baby’s cues? Every time I turned to the web for guidance, I emerged with more questions than answers, often concluding with “I don’t know.” Lacking strong opinions on various parenting approaches, I decided to go with the flow and observe my baby’s needs once he arrived.
However, one aspect I ultimately felt strongly about was sleep training. After much contemplation, I resolved not to pursue it. I commend those who do, but I recognized early on that I lacked the emotional resilience to endure hours of crying.
For the first six months of my son Ethan’s life, he was rocked to sleep by either my partner or me. Whenever he showed signs of tiredness and didn’t drift off on his own, I would carry him to his room and rock him until he fell asleep. This sometimes involved a specific walking style that mimicked a bumpy ride, which he seemed to enjoy. The process could be quick but could also extend to an exhausting hour if he was overly stimulated. Despite my fatigue, I persevered until he was comfortably asleep.
One evening, I found myself in a predicament—Ethan was ready for bed, but I couldn’t locate his pacifier. Rather than disrupt his sleep environment, I decided to lay him down for a few minutes while I searched for it. When I returned, I discovered he had fallen asleep within five to ten minutes.
This experience was eye-opening; I realized he often cried himself to sleep, but I had always been present to rock him, never fully acknowledging that he cried as he drifted off. I felt fortunate that his cries were few and far between, mostly surfacing when he was tired. I had focused so intently on soothing him that I hadn’t noticed he was crying during our typical rocking sessions.
This led me to explore a new approach: allowing him to self-soothe. I set boundaries for myself regarding how long I would permit him to cry and established conditions for when I would intervene if his cries became too distressed. Over the following days, I found that when I placed him in his crib, he would usually cry for 10-15 minutes before falling asleep. Surprisingly, he fell asleep faster and cried less without my intervention. Ironically, when I attempted to soothe him during longer crying spells, my presence seemed to agitate him further.
I want to clarify that my intention in sharing this experience isn’t to advocate for or against sleep training. My stance is neutral; I believe it’s simply another choice parents must navigate to find what works best for their families. Initially, I listened to prevailing internet advice when I opted to rock Ethan to sleep and never leave him while he cried. However, I discovered that the internet didn’t truly understand my child’s needs. Instead, I learned to trust my instincts and pay attention to Ethan’s unique cues, which is something that online resources couldn’t teach me.
With this realization, I embraced a more intuitive approach to parenting, one that was tailored to my child’s individuality.
Conclusion
In conclusion, the journey of parenthood is filled with learning experiences that no amount of online research can replicate. Each child is unique, and listening to their needs is paramount. For more insights on the journey of pregnancy and parenting, check out related resources like this excellent guide on infertility and this authority on home insemination.