Wow. You leave the computer off for a few days (hello, vacation from everybody!) and all hell breaks loose.
So, if I'm understanding the ruckus correctly, it started when a friend and fellow journaler wrote this entry. Then someone whose journal I read and whom I also consider a friend asked a question in a blog by someone else I read and consider a friend. Then everybody was debating and explaining and it's all just tailor-made to make a conflict-phobe like myself want to run and bury her head in the sand. I mean, really, why can't everybody, especially my friends, all just get along?
Maybe it's the medium. Email, Internet fora, blog comment boxes - they're all breeding grounds for misunderstandings and disagreements spun way out of control. Innuendo, sarcasm, and tongue-in-cheek don't come across in writing the way we want them to, regardless of how many emoticons or odd diacritical markings are used. Before anyone can blink, everybody is mad, and nobody knows exactly why.
I have a hunch, though, that the culprit is the topic. Ah, parenting: the third No-Man's-Land of debate, right up there with politics and religion. Unlike, say, the stock market, parenting is a dangerous topic because, inevitably, somebody is going to get defensive about choices they've made or haven't made and feelings are bound to be hurt. Implying or outright stating that one choice is the better one leads to feelings of guilt, which is inherently present in all of us parents from the moment we pee on the stick. Guilt: the Great Equalizer; I'll bet that even the blessed Mary could pick out one or two things she did that made her cringe.
So we've got a peril-fraught subject being argued via a medium that encourages miscommunication. Lovely little quagmire, no? I'd be a fool to participate, yes? Believe me, I've been telling myself that all evening. Still, I feel I should say something, simply because I do care about the people involved. For the record, though, I know that some minds are already made up for one "side" of the discussion or the other, and I'll probably affect nobody's opinion. Good thing that's not my goal; my only aim here is to state, for the record, my own thoughts on the subject. Like 'em or lump 'em, here they are.
Before I had Sam, before I got pregnant, before we were even trying to have a baby, I knew how I planned to mother my kids. That should come as no surprise to anybody who's been reading me for a while; I'm an unrepentant planner, and I had plenty of time to formulate this particular plan. My own childhood wasn't particularly happy, what with generations of physical and verbal abuse taking its toll on my defenseless little bottom and brain, so I knew that I needed a sharp break from what had come before me. I looked around, and before long I came into contact with the idea of attachment parenting. It was foreign to me, but as I explored it, it felt like it might be just the thing. I found mothers about me who parented gently and with respect; it seemed right.
And then I became a mother, and it was perfect. It felt natural to respond to Sam's cries without hesitation. I couldn't imagine having him anywhere but in my arms, feeding from my breast. It was difficult sometimes, but the path I chose to follow suited our family perfectly.
You know what, though? As much as my world revolved, and continues to revolve, around breastfeeding, babywearing, and co-sleeping, those aren't the things that make me an attachment parent. Attachment parenting is not a checklist of behaviors; it's much more than that.
Breastfeeding is not attachment parenting. If it were, I'd cease to be "AP" when Sam weaned. Besides, I've known many breastfeeding mothers who, sadly, were far from attached to their infants. And what about single fathers, or those moms who couldn't breastfeed for one reason or another?
Co-sleeping does not an attachment parent make. Sure, it's a useful tool, but what happens when the baby grows up and wants his own bed? I've also known parents for whom the family bed didn't work, and they've managed quite nicely to foster loving attachment to their children.
Babywearing? I wouldn't have it any other way, but this isn't the defining trait of an attachment parent either. My cousin, a loving and gentle single mother, has a severely damaged back; if wearing her baby in a sling had been a necessary step for attachment, she'd have been disqualified from day one.
The list goes on. Cloth diapers, homemade baby food, gluten-free diets - none of it makes a parent an attachment parent. It just doesn't work that way.
Attachment parenting is a way of thinking. It can be promoted by all of the above, sure; more important, though, is the way we treat and respect our kids. As Eric put it not long before Sam was born, "A baby is a person. They deserve to be treated like any other person." It sounds so simple, yet so many people don't fully understand, at least until they find themselves in a position to parent their own kids. Even then, people miss the boat.
Sam cried, and I responded. Every single time, I responded. He was a newborn, and his cries were all important and merited my response. Even prepared for what was coming, I was amazed by the number of people who tried to tell me that my tiny baby was manipulating me, that he was scheming to get what he wanted, and that I should ignore his tears.
Sam wanted to nurse, and I wanted to nurse him. That was an easy one for us. Now that he's a "big kid," we get lots of odd looks from people who see him nursing. Still, he has a strong need to continue to nurse, and I respect that need far more that I care to heed the evil eyes I get from strangers.
Every day I find myself in situations where I get frustrated with my son, tempted to yell, tempted to punish. It's natural, especially coming from a childhood where that was always the response in anger. Though it's not always instinctive to me, I step back and ask myself, "What is he feeling? How much more frustrated than I am must he be?" And I do my best to come to a common preference for both of us. Above all, my goal is to create an environment of trust, love, respect, and, well, attachment. My needs aren't more important than his; his are not more important than mine.
And that is attachment parenting.
I hate debate, especially about subjects that cut close to the heart. I'm no good at it; I usually end up being able to see my opponent's arguments as equally as viable as mine, and we end up going in circles. I'm no good at conflict; it makes my stomach churn and my head ache.
Parenting is, as I said, a very sensitive subject, and there are zealots for all sides of every facet. I personally am a zealot - a zealot for Sam and his feelings. When people criticize my choices, directly and to my face (yes, it has happened!), I get very upset. I made my choices after long, hard thought, and to imply that they're still up for debate is to say that either I've been careless or wrongheaded. Neither is true, trust me.
There's a big difference, though, in being pointedly criticized and in reading a sweeping statement that wasn't directed at me at all. If I read, on a personal webpage, "All redheads are devil-worshipers," I'd have to chuckle. Not only does the writer not know me, but the statement is so false as to be ludicrous. I wouldn't be offended; I'd be amused.
Cutting closer to home, if I read on a personal webpage that "homebirth is dangerous and should be made illegal," I'd be concerned, perhaps, but not angry. Again, the writer doesn't know me. I might choose to write a kindly-worded letter of edification, but I'd be more likely just to let it slide. If it was a theme that continually arose on the webpage, I'd not go back. I don't need to deliberately invite stress into my life.
What it boils down to is this: in a sensitive subject, and one which is likely to upset, if you're feeling bothered by reading someone's words, don't. Make your own choices, educate yourself, and feel sure enough of your own path to not need the validation of others. There are a lot of mean people out there who use hurtful words to cut at others. I've gotten the brunt of those words more than once, and while they sting, they don't kill.
Heck, if we all just practiced toward each other the same kind of gentle love that we want for our children, we'd all be okay.
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one year ago:
Since you're here for a visit, I thought it might be a good idea to show you around my house - you know, in case you need anything.
two years ago:
"He's just a really nice landlord who likes to really know whether the people he rents to - "
"Will be sausage or chops?"
three years ago:
If it happens, it'll happen without the benefit of us having dwelt upon it every hour of the day until we know one way or the other. |
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On the Stereo:
CSI
On the Bookshelf:
Nada.
Gratuitous Sam
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