Oh the joys of working with young children as a parent and teacher. Right around the fourth and fifth year of life, the fascination with certain words begins. Poop, fart, butt... these words are hilarious when you are four and even more hilarious for some reason if you are a boy! Children are beginning to understand themselves, how their bodies work, and how language and feelings work. They know these words get a reaction and they want to see what that reaction is. It happened every single year around this time in my nursery school. Someone would get called, "Poophead!" and that child would come to me. My response was always, "Let me look! Nope, there is no poop on your head." That would always create a laugh and off the two children went. Rarely did this word or the name calling stick around for long.
And NOW I am a parent and my son has begun his fascination with the word poop as he approaches four years old. Oh being a parent is so different than a teacher. Watching your son call someone poop or having him scream that word in response to a kind gesture of "hello Elijah" can be quite embarrassing and upsetting for me. It stirs up emotions I never quite had as a teacher. Still, I understand that this is developmentally appropriate for him, I know that it makes him feel powerful (one of the important conditions for human growth), that making a big deal out of it will only increase his use of it thereby creating a power struggle between us. And really, it is just a silly word. To be quite honest, it is an important word, one we use everyday (at least we should).
Does this mean that when he calls someone poop, I simply ignore it. I of course do not and I remind him that this person's name is "Mike" since tonight he called the head of our boarding school that (oy vey). I use the ever powerful tool of humor to guide him telling him that when Mike was born, his parents didn't think Poop was a good name for him. I ask him not to use it when I am eating or in our dining hall because frankly, it makes me feel ill and other people's needs are important too. I will also explain the context and a little bit of child development to people along the way. It is important for others to know that to Elijah, poop is a wonderful thing and not derogatory most of the time...they might even consider it a compliment. Ok, maybe we won't go that far.
Common practice among early childhood programs I have seen in the past and definitely among parents is to stop the use of those words and quickly. I assume they feel what I have felt as a parent and in some way deem the word inappropriate. I often hear children told that they are only to use that word in the bathroom, that it is a potty word, etc...
I do not take that approach. I think the more limits we put on it, the more some children (yes, mine) will push that limit and the longer the developmental stage will last. I think it conveys that there is something wrong or gross about our bodily function which I do not believe, and it is simply not a battle I choose to fight with my child.
My husband and I instead play what Elijah has termed "poop games" with him now. He says poop and we say pee or something even more "gross". The belly laugh that this elicits out of our son is truly monumental. Being able to enter into his world and share this humor with him truly brings us closer together because lets face it, I am a girl and I really dont get this whole "poop is funny" thing. I think my husband understands the humor even more so and who knows, it may actually still be funny to him. It is so important for me to remember that I am not male when parenting my son. It was a huge wake up call as a teacher who grew up as one of three girls and no father in the home. Understanding the differences and needs of the male species was and still can be a difficult road for me.
At Elijah's forest school, his teacher tells stories of Mr. Poopy Butthead (yes, one of the many things I love about Wild Roots) when the children enter this developmental stage. Today, his teacher asked him if he could help her find a stick strong enough for hammering and his response of course was an emphatic, "POOP!" His teacher responded, "No, I don't think poop would work for this, I need a stick."
And that people is how you support children as they navigate this world we live in....
funny words and all.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
The problem with doctorly advice...
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| He was so excited |
"So he is a thumb sucker I see..."
"Yes"
He then proceeded to tell me about how his teeth are being pushed out of normal bite range and how that will affect his grown up teeth. I asked some questions and got some answers.
The he turned to E and said, "you should really try not to suck your thumb if you can".
I was fine with all of his advice as that is his job to give it and to focus on his teeth, and to tell us what to expect, but then he went on...
"and Mom, you need to make sure he has stopped by the time he is five."
I responded with, "we will have to see how things go" trying to divert this conversation so I did not loose my cool.
He continued to explain how if he doesn't stop by age five his teeth will be permanently affected. Yada Yada Yada.
That is when I used a statement I so often said to parents who came into my preschool distraught because their dentist had given them a hard time about their thumb or pacifier sucking child,
"Orthodontics is a whole lot cheaper than therapy."
The hygentist and dentist did not laugh, but they did get quiet.
On the way home, E told me he didnt want to stop sucking his thumb. I assured him that it was his choice and that mama was not going to make him stop (as if I could).
But that session has stuck with me. It was the first time I was the parent in a situation like this. I was so thankful for my years in early childhood and my knowledge of child development because his stern warnings did not phase me like it had so many parents I has worked with.
I have always disliked it when doctors of dentists gave advice like that to parents. I know we pay them for there advice, but when it comes across as there is no other choice, parents feel like they are doing something wrong in the best case and parents do something horrible to their child like this contraption in the worst case. Of course, the dentist is only thinking of his teeth and it is a parents job to think of their entire child and way the pros and cons. However, I strongly believe that doctors and dentists opinions carry a lot of weight with parents and should be careful how they use that weight to get across their point.
This kind of situation, I believe, is the reason most parents would rather use a pacifier and do whatever they can to keep their child from sucking their thumb.
I often hear, "because a pacifier you can take away" at even a few weeks old. The pressure to force even that situation on a young child just because the adults in their world have decided they are too old for that comfort is just ridiculous. Yet, we are thinking of these things while the little ones are still in the womb.
If you ask me, no one ever died from being a thumb sucker. Some people had to have braces because of it, some had to have braces (like me) even though they never had a pacifier or thumb as comfort, and some have sucked their thumb for a decade or more and have perfectly straight teeth. So braces happen, big deal.
And doctors and dentists have their specialty, but it is not child development, even pediatricians do not focus on much more than a child's physical development, so I hope we all keep this in mind when hearing what they have to say and then make up your own mind as the guardian of this special person.
My top priority as a parent is to listen to my child and to focus on his needs as a whole. He gains a great deal of comfort from his thumb and his psyche will always take precedence over his teeth.
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| He got a toy afterwards, so glad they didn't tell him it was for being "good" or this blog post might have taken a whole different path. |
I may even start sucking my thumb as a sign of support ;)
Monday, March 18, 2013
On having two...
So since J is over 8 months old as I begin to write this and it is the first post since he was born, you can probably guess the theme of this one: life is crazy! Crazy and joyful, but none the less crazy!
So how is life with two children you ask? The best way I can describe it is to tell you about the last 30 minutes I just had.
So, E had woken up and was saying, "Mama" in a sad/scared voice that gets me to jump and run whenever I hear it. I ran into our bedroom and E was speaking nonsense and gibberish as he often does when waking from a deep sleep. It usually means he has to pee. I asked him if he did and he said No and began to lie down. I got into bed next to him and realized the reason he no longer had to pee. He and the bed were soaked.
I told him I was gonna go get him some clothes and he said "OK" sleepily, but as soon as I left the room, he sat up and started crying loudly which of course woke J. So now J is fussing and wanting help going back to sleep and I begin to change E. As soon as I get E's pants off, he says he has to pee more, so he gets down out of the bed and I put J's pacifier in his mouth hoping it will last long enough for me to help E in the bathroom.
I turn around and E is standing on our bedroom carpet peeing. I said, "No wait sweetie, lets go to the bathroom." He stops and I get him to the toilet.
Meanwhile, J is crying and I can tell he has gotten up and is crawling towards the bed rail so I place E in front of the toilet and aim him just so as I run back into the bedroom and pick up my crying baby.
I help E finish up in the bathroom (with one hand) and come back to the bedroom with both boys. I lie J down on the bed and he starts crying (loudly) again. I quickly lie a towel down on the bed, pick up E, put on his dry clothing, cover him, and then lie down in the position. The position is one in between the two boys where I can simultaneously nurse J in one direction while holding E's hand in the other direction.
Both boys scoot as close as humanly possible to me and drift back to sleep.
As I watch them sleep I have such mixed and intense emotions.
I hope that E knows how much I love him with all my heart even though my parenting has sank to an all time low and how I want to just scoop him up and savor each moment with him as I watch him continue to grow at an alarming rate. How every time he goes through something new I worry and research and worry and research some more. How I want to give him the very best of everything money cannot buy.
I see J cozy up in my arms (he has awoken and wants to be held), nursing, and so peacefully sleeping and think how little time he gets to just lie in his mamas arms like this and how sad I feel about that. I spend all my day time hours making sure Elijah is loved, fed, getting his activity, loved, fed, not beating on J, loved, fed, not breaking things, etc... I start to feel like the only time I have for J is to stop him from sucking on the toilet and electrical cords (although I am sure E thinks it is much more). I know my little baby cries for me way more than I would like him too.
The hard truth is that my parenting has really taken a dive. I hear myself say things I never would have said before like calling J a "handful" right in front of him or telling E at the end of the day to "stop touching me". These moments keep me awake at night.
My house always has some sort of disorganization, the bathroom always smells like pee between a little boy with questionable aim and cloth diaper aroma, someone always needs me immediately, and I feel like I can never quite catch up. They never nap at the same time, or for very long, and E hardly naps at all anymore, both boys want to nurse what feels like all day and all night. I went from having a 90 min break in the middle of the day and several hours at night, to having an hour here and there at night maybe.
All that being said...
J laughs at every little move E makes and watches him ever so intently.
The look on J's face and the little laugh he utters whenever he makes it all the way to the toilet or tears off yet another leaf from our houseplants.
The way both boys want to touch me all day long and play with me.
The way they hold hands when they are sleeping.
Those rare moments when E and I can finally sit and talk or read without the baby needing mama or trying to grab the book.
The way E tells us he loves us at least twenty times a day.
The way they look at me when I enter a room.
and the moments when both boys are in my arms and I can smell each of them, feel there little arms and I know it is one of those moments I want to remember when I am old.
So besides maybe just a little less pee, I wouldn't change a thing.
My friend recently said, "these are the good old days". I completely agree.
So how is life with two children you ask? The best way I can describe it is to tell you about the last 30 minutes I just had.
So, E had woken up and was saying, "Mama" in a sad/scared voice that gets me to jump and run whenever I hear it. I ran into our bedroom and E was speaking nonsense and gibberish as he often does when waking from a deep sleep. It usually means he has to pee. I asked him if he did and he said No and began to lie down. I got into bed next to him and realized the reason he no longer had to pee. He and the bed were soaked.
I told him I was gonna go get him some clothes and he said "OK" sleepily, but as soon as I left the room, he sat up and started crying loudly which of course woke J. So now J is fussing and wanting help going back to sleep and I begin to change E. As soon as I get E's pants off, he says he has to pee more, so he gets down out of the bed and I put J's pacifier in his mouth hoping it will last long enough for me to help E in the bathroom.
I turn around and E is standing on our bedroom carpet peeing. I said, "No wait sweetie, lets go to the bathroom." He stops and I get him to the toilet.
Meanwhile, J is crying and I can tell he has gotten up and is crawling towards the bed rail so I place E in front of the toilet and aim him just so as I run back into the bedroom and pick up my crying baby.
I help E finish up in the bathroom (with one hand) and come back to the bedroom with both boys. I lie J down on the bed and he starts crying (loudly) again. I quickly lie a towel down on the bed, pick up E, put on his dry clothing, cover him, and then lie down in the position. The position is one in between the two boys where I can simultaneously nurse J in one direction while holding E's hand in the other direction.
Both boys scoot as close as humanly possible to me and drift back to sleep.
As I watch them sleep I have such mixed and intense emotions.
I hope that E knows how much I love him with all my heart even though my parenting has sank to an all time low and how I want to just scoop him up and savor each moment with him as I watch him continue to grow at an alarming rate. How every time he goes through something new I worry and research and worry and research some more. How I want to give him the very best of everything money cannot buy.
I see J cozy up in my arms (he has awoken and wants to be held), nursing, and so peacefully sleeping and think how little time he gets to just lie in his mamas arms like this and how sad I feel about that. I spend all my day time hours making sure Elijah is loved, fed, getting his activity, loved, fed, not beating on J, loved, fed, not breaking things, etc... I start to feel like the only time I have for J is to stop him from sucking on the toilet and electrical cords (although I am sure E thinks it is much more). I know my little baby cries for me way more than I would like him too.
The hard truth is that my parenting has really taken a dive. I hear myself say things I never would have said before like calling J a "handful" right in front of him or telling E at the end of the day to "stop touching me". These moments keep me awake at night.
My house always has some sort of disorganization, the bathroom always smells like pee between a little boy with questionable aim and cloth diaper aroma, someone always needs me immediately, and I feel like I can never quite catch up. They never nap at the same time, or for very long, and E hardly naps at all anymore, both boys want to nurse what feels like all day and all night. I went from having a 90 min break in the middle of the day and several hours at night, to having an hour here and there at night maybe.
All that being said...
J laughs at every little move E makes and watches him ever so intently.
The look on J's face and the little laugh he utters whenever he makes it all the way to the toilet or tears off yet another leaf from our houseplants.
The way both boys want to touch me all day long and play with me.
The way they hold hands when they are sleeping.
Those rare moments when E and I can finally sit and talk or read without the baby needing mama or trying to grab the book.
The way E tells us he loves us at least twenty times a day.
The way they look at me when I enter a room.
and the moments when both boys are in my arms and I can smell each of them, feel there little arms and I know it is one of those moments I want to remember when I am old.
So besides maybe just a little less pee, I wouldn't change a thing.
My friend recently said, "these are the good old days". I completely agree.
Monday, September 17, 2012
I refuse to cover up....
Well it finally happened, after 3 plus years breastfeeding two infants, a toddler, and now a preschooler with a renewed love of nursing; I have been officially been told today that I am offending people and have been asked to cover up.
Of course, I know California State Law, my rights, and my position on the issue. I even carry copies of the law in my wallet so I never have to even get into a discussion with another about it, but would simply hand them the law and continue feeding my baby. I thought I was prepared for this situation, I thought I would not be surprised and would simply stand up for my rights and go on with my daily routine. What I did not consider is how this would make me feel. I always thought I would of course be angry and frustrated with our country's strange obsession with breasts. I knew I would want to shout from the roof tops, "I refuse to cover up!". What I did not expect was the feelings of hurt that I am now experiencing. I feel berated. I feel sad. I have a slight feeling of uncomfortableness now when I think of feeding my baby in that place again.
Because I feel so strongly about this issue, I know these feelings will soon pass, anger might remain for a while, but ultimately pride will be what endures.
I will feel pride in myself for being able to give my children the best possible nutrition and comfort that exists.
I will feel pride in what I have taught about our bodies to the younger girls around me and for that matter, the boys as well.
I will feel pride in continuing to nurse my baby in a situation where others know that I was asked to cover up and refused to do so simply out of embarrassment or shame.
I will feel pride in my husband for telling me that by doing what I do, I have made the world slightly more tolerant of breastfeeding mothers and in a small way made it a better place.
I will feel pride in myself for that as well.
No woman should ever be made to feel that doing something so natural is shameful. No woman should ever have to feel like she has to cover up because covering up implies that what I am doing is in some way shameful or inappropriate and NOTHING could be further from the truth.
Of course, I know California State Law, my rights, and my position on the issue. I even carry copies of the law in my wallet so I never have to even get into a discussion with another about it, but would simply hand them the law and continue feeding my baby. I thought I was prepared for this situation, I thought I would not be surprised and would simply stand up for my rights and go on with my daily routine. What I did not consider is how this would make me feel. I always thought I would of course be angry and frustrated with our country's strange obsession with breasts. I knew I would want to shout from the roof tops, "I refuse to cover up!". What I did not expect was the feelings of hurt that I am now experiencing. I feel berated. I feel sad. I have a slight feeling of uncomfortableness now when I think of feeding my baby in that place again.
Because I feel so strongly about this issue, I know these feelings will soon pass, anger might remain for a while, but ultimately pride will be what endures.
I will feel pride in myself for being able to give my children the best possible nutrition and comfort that exists.
I will feel pride in what I have taught about our bodies to the younger girls around me and for that matter, the boys as well.
I will feel pride in continuing to nurse my baby in a situation where others know that I was asked to cover up and refused to do so simply out of embarrassment or shame.
I will feel pride in my husband for telling me that by doing what I do, I have made the world slightly more tolerant of breastfeeding mothers and in a small way made it a better place.
I will feel pride in myself for that as well.
No woman should ever be made to feel that doing something so natural is shameful. No woman should ever have to feel like she has to cover up because covering up implies that what I am doing is in some way shameful or inappropriate and NOTHING could be further from the truth.
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| I usually would not post pictures like this just to make a statement, but today I am. My husband took this picture just a few days ago because I wanted to have it for my remembering when I am 82. I know you all have seen more breast in the Victoria Secret catalog. |
Monday, July 2, 2012
Jonah's Birth
This will be a hard one to write because this is likely my last baby and there are many emotions that come with that. But, here it goes....
So after 41 weeks, the baby was doing great on all tests, but my midwives were starting to feel the pressure of keeping me as a patient if I went much longer. I hate that this is the society we live in, but it is and if I wanted to stay with them for much longer, I was gonna need to encourage my baby to come. I did acupuncture, homeopathy, pineapple, spicy food, sex, exercise, pumping, and finally castor oil (which I swore I would never do again after Elijah). None of that coaxed either of my beautiful boys out of the womb which when you really think about it, why would they want to leave???
So at sixteen days past my due date (42 weeks, 2 days), I agreed to let my midwife break my water. It worked like a charm with Elijah and I had waited as long as I could to ensure its chances of working. At 11am, at my midwives home, she broke my water. There was a ton of clear water that came out. And then we all headed home to wait, relax, and pump some more.
At 3pm, they started coming and I was a little surprised because with Elijah it took eleven hours to work. They were very irregular and about 45 min. apart, but by 6pm, they were 15 min. apart and by 7pm, about a minute and half apart. They started to even out and around 8pm, I was in a very regular cycle of every 3 minutes or so. My doula, Genevieve arrived, my midwives, Laurel and Alice came, and there were some laughs in between contractions. Bob Marley was put on in the background because as Laurel said, "babies love Bob Marley." Early labor was pretty fun and I was thrilled that it was finally time to meet my baby.
The contractions, as they tend to do, got stronger and more intense and at some point I stopped cracking jokes in between. The baby was pushing very hard in between contractions as well which made it very difficult to rest or catch my breath for the next one, but I had found my voice, my position, and I think I was handling it pretty well. I labored on the ball, in the birth tub which was awesome, hanging on my amazing husband, etc....
At about 2am, I was ready to start pushing I told my midwife, but it was not a physical feeling, just more of an, I'm done with all this, lets get going feeling. She checked me and said it was not time yet. I later found out I was at 6-7cm then. I labored a few more hours and at some point we all discovered that the baby was on my pelvic bone and posterior and while he was trying with all his might (trust me on this one) to push his way down, it was unlikely I would dialate more until the pressure of his little head came down. So I was in that same dilation and labor pattern for about 8 hours. At that point, the contractions felt like they were coming very quickly. I kept telling Josh that I was not sure I could do this.
About 7am, my midwives had me on my side, on the floor trying to help the baby move off my pelvic bone. This was extremely hard for me and my contractions were not coming as often as they needed to be even though it felt like they were with the baby pushing so hard in between. So the midwives used the pump a little bit. It was just awful there on the floor and at some point I asked for a break. Josh and I went outside and did some lunges in the backyard per Laurel's recommendation. My midwives had told me that the baby and I were handling this beautifully and that all it was gonna take was more time, but I was convinced they were holding something back so outside I kept crying and asking Josh to tell me what I needed to do differently. There is a very frustrating feeling when you know you are making zero progress for hours on end, you are tired, and just want it all to be over. Josh told me the same thing, that I just needed to be patient and it would turn around.
Well then we came inside, I overheard my midwives say something about giving me another hour or two and I was convinced (as convinced as a determined exhausted woman who cannot clarify anything her midwives are saying can be). I was convinced that they did not think this baby would come and I knew the hospital was 45 min away. I was not gonna lie on that ground for another two hours and THEN take a 45 min car ride. So..... I gave up. I said to myself, "I am gonna regret this."
But then I told my midwives to take me to the hospital for an epidural so I could relax a bit. Interestingly enough, even though the midwives tried to talk me out of it, when they finally agreed, my contractions were coming back to back and I was handling them on my own because my doula was lying in bed with Elijah, and everyone else was scrambling to get ready to transfer.
Around 8am we left, and that car ride was excruciating. I kept telling myself not to faint, the baby was pushing so hard during and in between, and I was in the most awkward of positions. 45 minutes later, we arrived at the hospital. I did not have the energy to cry anymore. I just kept asking for meds, actually begging. But they had to ask me intake questions before they could call the anesthesiologist. I do not think I answered one. At one point I was in my gown, in the bed and a big contraction was coming. I made a moaning sound that made everyone in the room including my midwife whip their heads around and say. "wait a second, that sounded like a push." They checked me and what do you know.... the baby turned anterior, came off my pelvic bone, I was completely dilated and the baby was coming. I was so tired, even this news did not derail me from continuing to ask for pain meds. But then, it happened. What I needed to happen, but did not know I needed. My midwife got in my face so to speak. She told me absolutely not (it was too late anyway) was I going to get an epidural when the whole reason we came to the hospital was now gone, I was gonna push this baby out right now. I think I whimpered knowing this was gonna be work. And it took everything in me. BUT, he was moving, I could feel him. I felt his body coming lower and lower and this was such a relief. I felt him crown, the ring of fire, and his head pop out. Everyone in the room was commenting on what a tight squeeze and big baby this was. The doctor on call did not pull him, but let me do the work, so he slowly emerged. When his body was half way out, they suctioned him, I pushed him the rest of the way out and he came right to my chest. He stayed there for two hours before I let Josh hold him.
It was another beautiful baby boy... I love boys. Jonah Cameron Roberts was 9lbs, 3oz and I pushed him out in about 20-30 minutes and I was on my back. I love to stand during labor so this fact still mystifies me. I always thought I would push my babies out standing up.
When I think of the decision I made to go to the hospital I am frustrated and disappointed in myself. I should have trusted my midwives, I took away an opportunity for Josh to catch his son as he wanted, I took away an opportunity for Elijah to see his brother be born, and I took away from myself forever the right to say I birthed my baby at home. I know what everyone will say to these complaints. I know some people will think they are silly. I am of course so grateful that I have been able to conceive, have two beautiful incredibly healthy little boys, and that we are all well. But I find myself mourning the end result of each birth none the less. Jonah's birth was ten time more difficult than Elijah's and I have always known that one reason for me to choose midwifery care was to avoid the temptation for pain meds. I know myself well and I did not want them to be an option. I did not really even think about them with Elijah so I was surprised at how much harder this was. My midwives have been so incredible helping me along this postpartum path. They call me all the time, visit me at home, and give the kind of care that makes me feel like I am their only patient.
And to me that is the moral of both of my births. If I had not chosen midwifery care and to labor outside the hospital for all but 45 minutes of each of my sons, I am convinced without a doubt, that both of my boys would have been cesareans. Elijah was breech at 36 weeks (the midwife turned him), I was diagnosed with a muscle disease, and his heart rate dropped a bit too much during labor (which is why we transferred in his birth). Jonah was stuck for a long time on my pelvic bone despite handling it very well. These situations are not ones hospitals will let you stick with for long. My midwives trusted my body to do its job while keeping us safe at the same time. Because of this, I had two unmedicated vaginal births. I am so thankful for that because I believe we are all healthier for it. This is what I try to remember when the sadness hits.
And now I am off to figure out how to be the best mama I can be to two little ones who both seem to need me constantly. This may be tougher than transition. :)
So after 41 weeks, the baby was doing great on all tests, but my midwives were starting to feel the pressure of keeping me as a patient if I went much longer. I hate that this is the society we live in, but it is and if I wanted to stay with them for much longer, I was gonna need to encourage my baby to come. I did acupuncture, homeopathy, pineapple, spicy food, sex, exercise, pumping, and finally castor oil (which I swore I would never do again after Elijah). None of that coaxed either of my beautiful boys out of the womb which when you really think about it, why would they want to leave???
So at sixteen days past my due date (42 weeks, 2 days), I agreed to let my midwife break my water. It worked like a charm with Elijah and I had waited as long as I could to ensure its chances of working. At 11am, at my midwives home, she broke my water. There was a ton of clear water that came out. And then we all headed home to wait, relax, and pump some more.
At 3pm, they started coming and I was a little surprised because with Elijah it took eleven hours to work. They were very irregular and about 45 min. apart, but by 6pm, they were 15 min. apart and by 7pm, about a minute and half apart. They started to even out and around 8pm, I was in a very regular cycle of every 3 minutes or so. My doula, Genevieve arrived, my midwives, Laurel and Alice came, and there were some laughs in between contractions. Bob Marley was put on in the background because as Laurel said, "babies love Bob Marley." Early labor was pretty fun and I was thrilled that it was finally time to meet my baby.
The contractions, as they tend to do, got stronger and more intense and at some point I stopped cracking jokes in between. The baby was pushing very hard in between contractions as well which made it very difficult to rest or catch my breath for the next one, but I had found my voice, my position, and I think I was handling it pretty well. I labored on the ball, in the birth tub which was awesome, hanging on my amazing husband, etc....
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| My husband is amazing! |
At about 2am, I was ready to start pushing I told my midwife, but it was not a physical feeling, just more of an, I'm done with all this, lets get going feeling. She checked me and said it was not time yet. I later found out I was at 6-7cm then. I labored a few more hours and at some point we all discovered that the baby was on my pelvic bone and posterior and while he was trying with all his might (trust me on this one) to push his way down, it was unlikely I would dialate more until the pressure of his little head came down. So I was in that same dilation and labor pattern for about 8 hours. At that point, the contractions felt like they were coming very quickly. I kept telling Josh that I was not sure I could do this.
 |
| Laurel hugging me when it was rough, I remember melting into that hug! |
About 7am, my midwives had me on my side, on the floor trying to help the baby move off my pelvic bone. This was extremely hard for me and my contractions were not coming as often as they needed to be even though it felt like they were with the baby pushing so hard in between. So the midwives used the pump a little bit. It was just awful there on the floor and at some point I asked for a break. Josh and I went outside and did some lunges in the backyard per Laurel's recommendation. My midwives had told me that the baby and I were handling this beautifully and that all it was gonna take was more time, but I was convinced they were holding something back so outside I kept crying and asking Josh to tell me what I needed to do differently. There is a very frustrating feeling when you know you are making zero progress for hours on end, you are tired, and just want it all to be over. Josh told me the same thing, that I just needed to be patient and it would turn around.
Well then we came inside, I overheard my midwives say something about giving me another hour or two and I was convinced (as convinced as a determined exhausted woman who cannot clarify anything her midwives are saying can be). I was convinced that they did not think this baby would come and I knew the hospital was 45 min away. I was not gonna lie on that ground for another two hours and THEN take a 45 min car ride. So..... I gave up. I said to myself, "I am gonna regret this."
But then I told my midwives to take me to the hospital for an epidural so I could relax a bit. Interestingly enough, even though the midwives tried to talk me out of it, when they finally agreed, my contractions were coming back to back and I was handling them on my own because my doula was lying in bed with Elijah, and everyone else was scrambling to get ready to transfer.
Around 8am we left, and that car ride was excruciating. I kept telling myself not to faint, the baby was pushing so hard during and in between, and I was in the most awkward of positions. 45 minutes later, we arrived at the hospital. I did not have the energy to cry anymore. I just kept asking for meds, actually begging. But they had to ask me intake questions before they could call the anesthesiologist. I do not think I answered one. At one point I was in my gown, in the bed and a big contraction was coming. I made a moaning sound that made everyone in the room including my midwife whip their heads around and say. "wait a second, that sounded like a push." They checked me and what do you know.... the baby turned anterior, came off my pelvic bone, I was completely dilated and the baby was coming. I was so tired, even this news did not derail me from continuing to ask for pain meds. But then, it happened. What I needed to happen, but did not know I needed. My midwife got in my face so to speak. She told me absolutely not (it was too late anyway) was I going to get an epidural when the whole reason we came to the hospital was now gone, I was gonna push this baby out right now. I think I whimpered knowing this was gonna be work. And it took everything in me. BUT, he was moving, I could feel him. I felt his body coming lower and lower and this was such a relief. I felt him crown, the ring of fire, and his head pop out. Everyone in the room was commenting on what a tight squeeze and big baby this was. The doctor on call did not pull him, but let me do the work, so he slowly emerged. When his body was half way out, they suctioned him, I pushed him the rest of the way out and he came right to my chest. He stayed there for two hours before I let Josh hold him.
It was another beautiful baby boy... I love boys. Jonah Cameron Roberts was 9lbs, 3oz and I pushed him out in about 20-30 minutes and I was on my back. I love to stand during labor so this fact still mystifies me. I always thought I would push my babies out standing up.
When I think of the decision I made to go to the hospital I am frustrated and disappointed in myself. I should have trusted my midwives, I took away an opportunity for Josh to catch his son as he wanted, I took away an opportunity for Elijah to see his brother be born, and I took away from myself forever the right to say I birthed my baby at home. I know what everyone will say to these complaints. I know some people will think they are silly. I am of course so grateful that I have been able to conceive, have two beautiful incredibly healthy little boys, and that we are all well. But I find myself mourning the end result of each birth none the less. Jonah's birth was ten time more difficult than Elijah's and I have always known that one reason for me to choose midwifery care was to avoid the temptation for pain meds. I know myself well and I did not want them to be an option. I did not really even think about them with Elijah so I was surprised at how much harder this was. My midwives have been so incredible helping me along this postpartum path. They call me all the time, visit me at home, and give the kind of care that makes me feel like I am their only patient.
 |
| Alice and baby Jonah, one week old |
And to me that is the moral of both of my births. If I had not chosen midwifery care and to labor outside the hospital for all but 45 minutes of each of my sons, I am convinced without a doubt, that both of my boys would have been cesareans. Elijah was breech at 36 weeks (the midwife turned him), I was diagnosed with a muscle disease, and his heart rate dropped a bit too much during labor (which is why we transferred in his birth). Jonah was stuck for a long time on my pelvic bone despite handling it very well. These situations are not ones hospitals will let you stick with for long. My midwives trusted my body to do its job while keeping us safe at the same time. Because of this, I had two unmedicated vaginal births. I am so thankful for that because I believe we are all healthier for it. This is what I try to remember when the sadness hits.
And now I am off to figure out how to be the best mama I can be to two little ones who both seem to need me constantly. This may be tougher than transition. :)
 |
| And now for our new life... |
Elijah's Birth
Tracy, Josh, and Elijah Roberts: Birth Story
We found out that we were going to have a baby in mid
October after trying to conceive for 4 months.
We were as prepared as we could be with all our research done and having
decided that an out of hospital birth was the safest option for our baby. We wanted a natural birth and we knew that
this would be a sensitive time in our lives and we did not want to be pressured
by a hospital with their own standard of procedure. I also felt that if I was gonna do this
without drugs, I needed drugs to not even be available. When the time came though, I never wanted
them. Maybe I had prepared myself well
enough and I had heard the horror stories about how most women ask for them at
some point, but that was simply not the case for me. I never even thought about it once in 18
hours of labor. I say this only because
as women we have all heard how awful this experience is, how some people even
commented that they thought they were gonna die. Awful is just a word I would never use for
this empowering experience, but let me go back further….
I was so exhilarated to finally be going down a road I had
seen so many go, after 14 years as a preschool teacher and director, it was
finally my turn to be the mom. Pregnancy
was tiring and so full of ups and downs.
I did not want to have any interventions if possible, but at 12 weeks,
Lorri found a fibroid, I had thought it was our babies head. This meant ultrasounds to watch the growth
and position 3 times during the pregnancy.
I was also diagnosed with Myontonia Cogenita, a muscle disease that made
me even more tired and difficult to walk, this led to some invasive genetic
testing including tiny electric shocks and sticking needles in my muscles… Yikes, that was a hard day. Then at 30 weeks gestation, the baby turned
breech. I spent the night I found out,
crying while lying upside down at a 45 degree angle on our ironing board pretty
sure at any moment all that extra weight I was carrying would end up crushing
my head. The baby did eventually turn
back with the help of many exercises and some great midwifery massage.
In the end, all of these complications had been evaluated
and followed by every specialist we could think of and all of them said they
were not affecting the baby and I was cleared for an out of hospital
birth. Ironically with all these
“issues”, the most concern my midwife had was to make sure one of my fibroids
(yes, I had several) was not blocking the cervix. Not sure if it was her experience or just
plain instinct, but I had no idea how right she would be.
So then the final few weeks approached and I was doing all
the natural things that can help with getting labor started, homeopathy, Chinese herbs, raspberry, drinking lemonade, eating pineapple, eating spicy
food, walking, having sex, acupuncture, and then…. It happened or at least we
thought it did. I had some severe pains
that lasted many hours. We tried to
walk, eat, sleep, drink, and shower ( all the things Bradley tells you to do to
test if you are in real labor) and they kept coming. Even our midwife thought this was it over the
phone. We called the family and then,
just as the mother in law boarded her plane to come home from vacation, they
stopped. We were so disappointed.
The waiting game then commenced. And when the “due date” ( I think they should
be called guess dates) came and went, the midwives prescribed more of the same
and they even stripped my membranes TWICE, but nothing worked. You have until 2 weeks after your due date to
give birth with the midwives and then your care is transferred to an OB, so 2
days before this time limit was up, y midwives suggested Castor Oil. I can barely type those words without
gagging. We attempted to mask the flavor
with two very big root beer floats and lets just say I will not be drinking
root beer floats ever again. And, it did
not work either… no labor, just vomiting.
Ugh…..Horrid.
Lorri suggested after determining that my cervix was
"ripe", that we rupture the membranes. I was two weeks “overdue” at this point and
while they always left the decision to me, I was unsure. I was really worried this would not work to
start labor as nothing else had, but my midwife was very sure and I trusted
her. We went into the birthing center
that morning and I was so nervous, but as soon as I saw Lorri, I calmed
down. I remembered that she was the
reason I had so much faith in this birth and my body. They broke the bag of
waters and all was clear. That was a long day, they sent us home to pump and
wait. It was a tough day. Around 3pm, I
was in tears thinking I had rushed the baby and that it was not going to
work. My husband was so great though, he
jumped right in and took my mind off everything assuring me we would be
OK. I spoke with Lorri and Angela a few
times that day and at one point they found out that my inlaws were at our house
with us. They told me they needed to
leave. I was nervous to ask them to
leave and wasn’t sure I wanted them to go, but my husband again reminded me
that we needed to trust our midwives and follow their instruction so he asked
his parents to go spend the night close by.
At 8pm that night (just as the in laws were walking out the
door…smart midwife) contractions started, but I had had these mild ones for
weeks so I did not get my hopes up. By
10pm, they got much stronger and about 12-20 minutes apart. At midnight, I woke
up Josh cause I could not handle them alone anymore. The entire night they got
stronger and closer together and progressed exactly like a text book case. I
tried to sleep in the beginning between them.
That worked for a little while. We
went on a walk, took lots of showers, and called Laura Jane (our doula) around
5:30 am to come help us at home. I
remember the first thing I said to her was, "this is really hard" (as
if she didn't know that). With every
contraction, the best way that I could allow them to do their job was to stand
and put all my weight on Josh. I tried
very hard to focus on not tensing up with the pain and to allow Josh to hold me
up.
Around 7:30am, I wanted to go to the birthing center because I felt like I was ready, we called the midwife and she agreed to meet us at 9:15am. That felt like an eternity to me then. The car ride over there was horrid cause I could not stand or deal with them the way I wanted (I think a home birth next time). We got there and the midwife checked me, I was 7cm plus she said. I remember being satisfied with that ironically.
I got in their birthing tub and in about 2 hours, at 10:55am (not that I had any idea of the time then), I was fully dilated and my body just started pushing. Wow! Pushing! That is the most primitive feeling in the world. Nothing has ever overtaken my body like that . Josh was so supportive. He was talking me through every one, but I told him to just be quiet at one point. I felt like the talking was distracting me from the all important job of pushing. I just had to focus.
At some point, I just felt I needed to stand up and push so I got out of the tub, squatted and pushed. I felt like I was making the most progress here and when the Lorri finally started saying, "yes, yes". This is when they started noticing the babies heart beat dropping. They said I could not stand, they put me in a few different positions on the bed and the heart rate was fine, but I felt like I could not get any leverage to push him out. I was getting hot and tired and they put me on oxygen. I asked to stand again after a while and they said OK, but his heart rate dropped again. I could see and feel him moving down when I stood, I felt like I could get him out so I was very disappointed to be put back in the other positions even though it was necessary. I was squeezing Laura Jane and Josh’s hand with every push and I had Cheryl, the midwife assistant(the human epidural they call her) and Lorri coaching me through every one.
Apparently there started to be quite a bit of meconium coming out around this time too. The baby was trying to come out sideways also which is the way he sat inside me the last 2 months or so. The midwife tried to reach in and turn him a few times, but it didn't work and we didn't know why at the time. I remember seeing one of the other birth assistants face at the time and thinking she looked terrified (not sure how many times she had seen a birth), but I remember feeling very calm inside, not a bit worried, just tired and wanting the baby out.
After 2 hours of pushing with heart rates dropping and meconium coming out with a baby that appeared to be stuck, Lorri said, lets go to the hospital. I was so ready thinking they would "take him out".
They put me in the car and told me not to push, that was the hardest thing I think I had done so far to try to stop something that was so instinctual. Its akin to telling someone with the violent flu not to vomit anymore.
When we got to the hospital, there was like 12 doctors, nurses, and midwives waiting for us. They hooked me to IV's and I thought, here comes the medicated birth I didn't want, but was just so wanting him to be out. They just gave me saline though and told me I had to push him out, no epidural or c-section was possible because he was crowning. Thank Goodness!
I remember thinking at that moment that I was going to kill him. I had very sad visions flash in my head. The OB said to me that she was going to help me 1% with the vacuum, but that he had to come out now and I had to push him out. I was crying and so not sure I could do it, but I pushed as hard as I could and with the vacuum and an episiotomy, and only 45 minutes in the hospital, our little BOY came out at 2:10pm on Friday, July 17th.
Even though he was whisked right away to the pediatricians in the room, he cried immediately and got an apgar score of 8.5. Josh held him skin to skin pretty quickly after that and he came to me pretty soon too and nursed.
It took an hour and a half for the placenta to ease its way out cause it was stuck on my fibroids which we later found out the baby was too.
So there you go, and unmedicated birth with some interventions that I of course did not want, but seemed necessary at the time and I am glad the hospital was there for us when it needed to be. I am glad I did all my laboring at home and the birth center. I, of course, am sad I scared my family, but I never felt unsafe or like we were not in the best hands. I knew if anything like this happened, Lorri, our midwife, was so experienced and able to handle it and I have even more respect and admiration for her now than I did before. I think I even said immediately after Elijah was born, "Lorri, I love you!" Poor Josh :(.
Around 7:30am, I wanted to go to the birthing center because I felt like I was ready, we called the midwife and she agreed to meet us at 9:15am. That felt like an eternity to me then. The car ride over there was horrid cause I could not stand or deal with them the way I wanted (I think a home birth next time). We got there and the midwife checked me, I was 7cm plus she said. I remember being satisfied with that ironically.
I got in their birthing tub and in about 2 hours, at 10:55am (not that I had any idea of the time then), I was fully dilated and my body just started pushing. Wow! Pushing! That is the most primitive feeling in the world. Nothing has ever overtaken my body like that . Josh was so supportive. He was talking me through every one, but I told him to just be quiet at one point. I felt like the talking was distracting me from the all important job of pushing. I just had to focus.
At some point, I just felt I needed to stand up and push so I got out of the tub, squatted and pushed. I felt like I was making the most progress here and when the Lorri finally started saying, "yes, yes". This is when they started noticing the babies heart beat dropping. They said I could not stand, they put me in a few different positions on the bed and the heart rate was fine, but I felt like I could not get any leverage to push him out. I was getting hot and tired and they put me on oxygen. I asked to stand again after a while and they said OK, but his heart rate dropped again. I could see and feel him moving down when I stood, I felt like I could get him out so I was very disappointed to be put back in the other positions even though it was necessary. I was squeezing Laura Jane and Josh’s hand with every push and I had Cheryl, the midwife assistant(the human epidural they call her) and Lorri coaching me through every one.
Apparently there started to be quite a bit of meconium coming out around this time too. The baby was trying to come out sideways also which is the way he sat inside me the last 2 months or so. The midwife tried to reach in and turn him a few times, but it didn't work and we didn't know why at the time. I remember seeing one of the other birth assistants face at the time and thinking she looked terrified (not sure how many times she had seen a birth), but I remember feeling very calm inside, not a bit worried, just tired and wanting the baby out.
After 2 hours of pushing with heart rates dropping and meconium coming out with a baby that appeared to be stuck, Lorri said, lets go to the hospital. I was so ready thinking they would "take him out".
They put me in the car and told me not to push, that was the hardest thing I think I had done so far to try to stop something that was so instinctual. Its akin to telling someone with the violent flu not to vomit anymore.
When we got to the hospital, there was like 12 doctors, nurses, and midwives waiting for us. They hooked me to IV's and I thought, here comes the medicated birth I didn't want, but was just so wanting him to be out. They just gave me saline though and told me I had to push him out, no epidural or c-section was possible because he was crowning. Thank Goodness!
I remember thinking at that moment that I was going to kill him. I had very sad visions flash in my head. The OB said to me that she was going to help me 1% with the vacuum, but that he had to come out now and I had to push him out. I was crying and so not sure I could do it, but I pushed as hard as I could and with the vacuum and an episiotomy, and only 45 minutes in the hospital, our little BOY came out at 2:10pm on Friday, July 17th.
Even though he was whisked right away to the pediatricians in the room, he cried immediately and got an apgar score of 8.5. Josh held him skin to skin pretty quickly after that and he came to me pretty soon too and nursed.
It took an hour and a half for the placenta to ease its way out cause it was stuck on my fibroids which we later found out the baby was too.
So there you go, and unmedicated birth with some interventions that I of course did not want, but seemed necessary at the time and I am glad the hospital was there for us when it needed to be. I am glad I did all my laboring at home and the birth center. I, of course, am sad I scared my family, but I never felt unsafe or like we were not in the best hands. I knew if anything like this happened, Lorri, our midwife, was so experienced and able to handle it and I have even more respect and admiration for her now than I did before. I think I even said immediately after Elijah was born, "Lorri, I love you!" Poor Josh :(.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Parenting Assumption....
Oh Facebook, how I love thee... I really do as it keeps me in touch with all my friends I moved away from and family too. The odd thing about Facebook is that while it is a removal in many ways from face to face genuine contact, it has allowed others to get to know a lot more information about my ideals and passions than they probably would have otherwise not known and probably at times more info than they would like to know. :)
Most recently there was yet another breastfeeding photo that was criticized and again compared to photos of sex or defecation. I wish I had not seen the criticisms, but I did and I vented on Facebook. Well, my cousin disagreed that breastfeeding should ever go past a certain point and my friends (mostly breastfeeding advocates) chimed in as well and the discussion became heated. I have a lot of views about breastfeeding, but as I commented and others did including my cousin, I started to recognize a trend that I see on almost all discussions related to children, a popular and familiar parenting assumption. An assumption that I believe if more parents could fully understand the child development truths surrounding said assumption, relationships between parent and child, parent and teenager could be significantly changed in our world.
It goes something like this: "If you don't force a child to stop breastfeeding (sucking the thumb or pacifier, sleeping in your bed, using diapers, or any other behavior typically associated with being a baby), then they never will."
The underlying assumption here is that these behaviors only belong in the realm of babyhood, that children after a certain age do not need them anymore, that children do not want to grow up, and sadly the most disturbing is that children are trying to manipulate the adult with these behaviors. There are volumes upon volumes of research that disprove the first two related assumptions, but for the purpose of this post, I simply want to address the last two.
1. Children do not want to grow up: Nothing could be further from the truth. From the time they are born, the baby strives to learn and grow. We do not have to get on the ground and force them to learn how to roll over, sit up, walk, talk, etc.... They want to learn these things, they want to climb the tallest ladder at the park way before they can physically master it. That desire is innate. Yet, so often, we assume that we need to intervene in this process and teach them. I promise that this premise of wanting to grow up also relates to the behaviors we so often are uncomfortable with at certain ages. How often have we heard, "If you don't get him out of your bed now, you never will?" or "She is not a baby anymore, she doesn't need that pacifier (blanket, thumb)". The problem is that we do not understand the normal developmental timelines that come with weaning from a breast, pacifier, thumb, bottle, etc... (and by the way, I find it so odd that people will refuse to breastfeed their child any longer, but will instead give them a bottle because if breastfeeding is comparable to sex, then bottles are comparable to dildos). The problem is we try to force these milestones of growing up and giving up too soon. It happens even in our school systems, we force reading and younger and younger ages (ie...My baby can read), yet we are ranked 52nd in literacy. Countries that let children play and simply be children without thinking about things like teaching them to read until they see signs of developmental readiness (like asking to learn), are ranked first and second in literacy.
So ultimately, we just need to stop rushing children.
"Every stage of development is complete in itself. The three year old is not an incomplete five year old. The child is not an incomplete adult. Never are we simply on our way! Always we have arrived! Enjoy now!! -J. C. Pearce
2. Children are trying to manipulate adults: I feel like this is something so many people grow up thinking, maybe because of the constant extrinsic motivation, punishment, and general regard we ourselves were given as children. That as adults and especially as parents, we need to lay down the law. If our children throws a tantrum in the store, it is our fault for not being a better parent in some way. That it is our job to train them whether it be toileting or kindness or baseball and if we don't teach them our values, they will have none of their own and will end up in prison. In fact, there is a great section of society that still believes we need to beat the evil right out of children literally. Children definitely have strong emotions at times and their behavior can seem overwhelming and even manipulative. If an adult threw a tantrum in a store, manipulation would probably be somewhere in the motivation (that or mental illness). But children are not adults and the skills they possess in order to handle their emotions are limited, things that seem to us to be no big deal are monumental to them, and lastly, many many times we simply do not listen to them, we do not acknowledge their feelings. If your spouse refused to listen to you over and over again, told you to stop whining, etc... you would likely throw a tantrum as well. When children express a desire to continue nursing, to keep their beloved blanket, or even something as simple as to not leave the park, it is extremely important to them and here is the clincher... are you listening?
There is a NEED behind that desire, those emotions.
So you are probably saying, "what, they NEED to be at the park?" Yes. There bodies are forming at an extremely fast rate and their is a great NEED to run, climb, jump, release energy. Can they verbalize this to their parents, of course not. That is where we come in. We need to figure out the NEED behind those strong feelings and at the very least acknowledge it and if at all possible PROVIDE FOR THAT NEED. I am not suggesting that every time your child is upset about leaving the park, you stay. And I am not suggesting that every woman of a two year old drop what she is doing every minute to breastfeed her child who is demanding it (although I do think that should happen with an infant). I am not even suggesting that all woman need to continue breastfeeding their two year olds in general. There are two people in this relationship and the breasts do belong to the woman. I just simply think if we understood the NEEDS of children better, if we took their feelings into consideration and acknowledged them more, our relationships would be monumentally more healthy.
So please stop the thinking that children are out to get us adults, it simply is not true.
Most recently there was yet another breastfeeding photo that was criticized and again compared to photos of sex or defecation. I wish I had not seen the criticisms, but I did and I vented on Facebook. Well, my cousin disagreed that breastfeeding should ever go past a certain point and my friends (mostly breastfeeding advocates) chimed in as well and the discussion became heated. I have a lot of views about breastfeeding, but as I commented and others did including my cousin, I started to recognize a trend that I see on almost all discussions related to children, a popular and familiar parenting assumption. An assumption that I believe if more parents could fully understand the child development truths surrounding said assumption, relationships between parent and child, parent and teenager could be significantly changed in our world.
It goes something like this: "If you don't force a child to stop breastfeeding (sucking the thumb or pacifier, sleeping in your bed, using diapers, or any other behavior typically associated with being a baby), then they never will."
The underlying assumption here is that these behaviors only belong in the realm of babyhood, that children after a certain age do not need them anymore, that children do not want to grow up, and sadly the most disturbing is that children are trying to manipulate the adult with these behaviors. There are volumes upon volumes of research that disprove the first two related assumptions, but for the purpose of this post, I simply want to address the last two.
1. Children do not want to grow up: Nothing could be further from the truth. From the time they are born, the baby strives to learn and grow. We do not have to get on the ground and force them to learn how to roll over, sit up, walk, talk, etc.... They want to learn these things, they want to climb the tallest ladder at the park way before they can physically master it. That desire is innate. Yet, so often, we assume that we need to intervene in this process and teach them. I promise that this premise of wanting to grow up also relates to the behaviors we so often are uncomfortable with at certain ages. How often have we heard, "If you don't get him out of your bed now, you never will?" or "She is not a baby anymore, she doesn't need that pacifier (blanket, thumb)". The problem is that we do not understand the normal developmental timelines that come with weaning from a breast, pacifier, thumb, bottle, etc... (and by the way, I find it so odd that people will refuse to breastfeed their child any longer, but will instead give them a bottle because if breastfeeding is comparable to sex, then bottles are comparable to dildos). The problem is we try to force these milestones of growing up and giving up too soon. It happens even in our school systems, we force reading and younger and younger ages (ie...My baby can read), yet we are ranked 52nd in literacy. Countries that let children play and simply be children without thinking about things like teaching them to read until they see signs of developmental readiness (like asking to learn), are ranked first and second in literacy.
So ultimately, we just need to stop rushing children.
"Every stage of development is complete in itself. The three year old is not an incomplete five year old. The child is not an incomplete adult. Never are we simply on our way! Always we have arrived! Enjoy now!! -J. C. Pearce
2. Children are trying to manipulate adults: I feel like this is something so many people grow up thinking, maybe because of the constant extrinsic motivation, punishment, and general regard we ourselves were given as children. That as adults and especially as parents, we need to lay down the law. If our children throws a tantrum in the store, it is our fault for not being a better parent in some way. That it is our job to train them whether it be toileting or kindness or baseball and if we don't teach them our values, they will have none of their own and will end up in prison. In fact, there is a great section of society that still believes we need to beat the evil right out of children literally. Children definitely have strong emotions at times and their behavior can seem overwhelming and even manipulative. If an adult threw a tantrum in a store, manipulation would probably be somewhere in the motivation (that or mental illness). But children are not adults and the skills they possess in order to handle their emotions are limited, things that seem to us to be no big deal are monumental to them, and lastly, many many times we simply do not listen to them, we do not acknowledge their feelings. If your spouse refused to listen to you over and over again, told you to stop whining, etc... you would likely throw a tantrum as well. When children express a desire to continue nursing, to keep their beloved blanket, or even something as simple as to not leave the park, it is extremely important to them and here is the clincher... are you listening?
There is a NEED behind that desire, those emotions.
So you are probably saying, "what, they NEED to be at the park?" Yes. There bodies are forming at an extremely fast rate and their is a great NEED to run, climb, jump, release energy. Can they verbalize this to their parents, of course not. That is where we come in. We need to figure out the NEED behind those strong feelings and at the very least acknowledge it and if at all possible PROVIDE FOR THAT NEED. I am not suggesting that every time your child is upset about leaving the park, you stay. And I am not suggesting that every woman of a two year old drop what she is doing every minute to breastfeed her child who is demanding it (although I do think that should happen with an infant). I am not even suggesting that all woman need to continue breastfeeding their two year olds in general. There are two people in this relationship and the breasts do belong to the woman. I just simply think if we understood the NEEDS of children better, if we took their feelings into consideration and acknowledged them more, our relationships would be monumentally more healthy.
So please stop the thinking that children are out to get us adults, it simply is not true.
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