What is Attachment Parenting?

By Peggy O’Mara, CEO of peggyomara.com

Attachment parenting is not permissive parenting. It is not about abdicating authority as a parent, but about responding to the legitimate biological needs of a baby. It is firmly based in the sciences of anthropology and psychology and specifically on the theory of attachment.

THE THEORY OF ATTACHMENT

The theory of attachment originated with psychoanalyst John Bowlby (1907-1990) whose influential 1951 report to the World Health Organization set the first standard for infant and child care:

the infant and young child should experience a warm, intimate and continuous relationship with his mother (or permanent mother substitute) in which both find satisfaction and enjoyment.

Bowlby and others identified the first three years of life as a critical period during which the foundation is set for attachment to self and others. Qualities secured during this period include: trust, empathy, dependency, affection, conscience and optimism. According to Maggie Scarf in Unfinished Business (Ballantine: 1981)

The ancients well knew that the experience of being in love recapitulates the mother-child relationship in its intimate physical attachment, trust and dependency. It has been shown even in the animal realm that adequate sexual functioning in adulthood depends on satisfactory relations with the mother in infancy.”

LOOKING FOR SCIENTIFIC SUPPORT

When breastfeeding rates doubled between 1972 and 1982, mothers were looking for ways to reconcile the needs of their babies with the popular wisdom of the day. Breastfeeding moms were finding, for example, that their babies wanted to be held a lot while popular wisdom warned that holding was spoiling. Attachment theory reassured these new breastfeeding pioneers that touching and holding were not only good for babies, but essential to their optimal development.

John Bowlby, for example, observed during WWI that babies in orphanages died if they were neither talked to or touched.

Eric Erikson identified the first year of life as a stage during which we learn to have faith in other people and in the environment. During this time of total dependency, if we receive adequate physical care that is warm, loving and demonstrative, we will learn to trust. On the other hand, if our care is cold, indifferent and rejecting we will learn to mistrust.

Bowlby’s colleague, Mary Ainsworth, was a medical researcher who observed that the indulgence of early dependency needs leads to independence and self-reliance. According to Ainsworth, it is the sensitive responsiveness of the mother that enables the child to explore the environment.

Margaret Mead, whose seminal book Coming of Age in Samoa (1928) informed the sexual revolution, observed in her field studies as an anthropologist that the most violent tribes were those that withheld touch in infancy.

According to neurologist Richard Restak, social behavior is related to early experiences in significant ways,

Physical holding and carrying of the infant turns out to be the most important factor responsible for the infant’s normal mental and social development.

Rest of article

Walking With Intention Day 18

“Our intention creates our reality.”

– Wayne Dyer

The concept of “intention” has never held very much meaning for me beyond a few experiences with Catholic volunteers. It was a nice, though abstract, concept. Living intentionally never became so important to me until I had a baby.

In my mind, walking with intention means a few different things. On one hand, it means being present to the current moment. On the other hand, it means being conscientious and deliberate about my attitude, my actions and my words, because those three things influence my reality and my future.

Being Present

This is my first child and I’m daily fumbling with getting it right. Since her birth, it has been very important to me to be present in a way I never was before, when I would daydream my way through a never-ending afternoon and seek to rush an uncomfortable moment.

Now, I’m trying to be catalogue every precious little moment, like her determined face and middle-of-the-night sighs or the small moments in a quiet house that she’s playing independently. I’m (trying to!) not wishing away the long nights of overtired screaming because I know the day will come that I will wish problems could be solved with mere rocking, kisses, and a round of “Baby Mine.” I’m trying to make note of every time we nurse or she presses her cheek to mine, because one of those times will be the last time, and I love them. I love every day with her, even the minutes that suck. I am crazy in love with her right now, and she adores me. I am the best thing ever. I make her laugh and I calm her, and I know I won’t always.

Being Conscious and Deliberate

I didn’t grow up around children, and before I had her, I honestly just thought they were little jerks. I couldn’t imagine how parents could put up with their attitude. (At the time, I also couldn’t imagine loving something the way I love her, but now I get it.)  During my pregnancy and ever since she was born, I have been anxious about the “terrible twos,” having a “threenager,” and every day she grows, I hate that she’s getting closer to that time. I don’t know how I’m going to handle it and I’m afraid I’m going to hate her, the being with half my heart.

I don’t like this. I don’t want to think of her as a “terror,” and I don’t want to be her adversary. I know that, as her mother, it is going to be my job to set boundaries she won’t like and she will see me as her enemy sometimes, but I don’t want to see her as the enemy.

She is not the enemy.

My anxiety of that time is lessened and I think (hope) my ability to respond from a place of love will increase when I am intentional in my thoughts about her. I believe the way I think and talk about her will make a big difference in how I perceive her.  Even when my Wee One is acting stubborn, disobedient, or rude, if I say those things are who she is, I will believe them. If i can be intentional in my thoughts about her and consider her as a whole person, I will see things differently and be able to respond to her differently. When she pushes against me, or when she’s rude or disrespectful, it is because she is learning the rules of social interaction and experimenting with different behaviors. Or it is because I am expecting something of her that she is not developmentally able to do. Moreover, she’s acting out with me because she knows she’s safe with me.

In my practice as a drug and alcohol counselor, I read and found to be true that the strongest tool I had when working with a client was my relationship with them. I also noticed that the clients who did best were those who had a strong relationship with me.  (In this context, by “best,” I do not mean the ones who stayed sober and got housed. I mean the ones who stayed connected with our program and kept trying.) They knew they could come to me drunk, or call me from prison, or send me to talk to their P.O. and lawyers, and I still respected and believed in their ability to change.

I remember this and also think about my relationship with my own mother, with whom I have always been safe. I think the quality of relationship with my daughter is going to be the most important thing I have in my ability to help her grow. To do this, I need to stay aware of the bigger picture and act with intention to keep our relationship sacred.

Sarah Myers

I am a St. Louis native and social worker who spent 10 years working with homeless addicts in North city. In about the course of a year I got married, had a child, left my job and moved to the Seattle area – made about every big change one can make.  Now I’m a stay at home mom and loving every day of it, but I’m also trying to rebuild my life around these big changes.

https://theseekersdungeon.com/2015/11/18/walking-with-intention-day-18-by-sarah-myers/

***Reposted with permission via http://creosomnium.org/

The Birth of Piper Rose

This was written by Molly Martin, a friend/coworker of mine from a decade ago. We kept in touch over the years and ended up having children about a year apart from each other. She's a mother of two and has had a successful VBAC (that story yet to come). Molly recently posted this birth story on her blog (Http://www.roseandodin.blogspot.com) and has allowed us to share her story here as she continues to advocate for natural birth and natural parenting.

~ Brigitta, President of Friends of Goshen Birth Center
***************************************************************************

May 17, 2006 at 6:00 pm my water broke. I was now at the threshold of motherhood; the final trial was now set in motion and afterward I would be rewarded with a babe in my arms.

I was ready and smiling. I phoned the midwife. My instructions were: eat, rest and call back when my contractions have been two minutes apart for an hour OR in twelve hours. 

It was twelve hours later when I phoned again. The contractions had been somewhat frequent but had not progressed. 

I was admitted and asked a bunch of irrelevant questions and I was checked. The nurse looked puzzled and asked: "are you sure this baby is head down? You are only dilated to MAYBE a one."

My heart sank. Since the time I was 32 weeks pregnant I have been asking my midwives, at each visit, about the baby's position. I had a very large, hard part of the baby stuck under my right rib and this part of the baby stayed exactly in the same spot until the end. 

Three of the four midwives in the practice agreed that this hard lump was the butt. (The fourth midwife was at my delivery and we had not had an appointment with her after 30 weeks.) 

I just felt, all along, that this lump was indeed the head but it was my first pregnancy and these ladies are skilled in feeling babies in bellies. I did not argue and was reassured that the baby was head down and there was no reason for concern or to think the delivery would not go smoothly. 

The nurse brought in an ultra sound machine, scanned the lump at my rib and then politely excused herself to call in the OB. 

The OB came in and scanned my belly. There was the head, right under my rib. She took my hand, I began to cry, she said: "We are going to have to do a c-section at this point. Your water has broken and there is no way to flip your baby. You will be holding your baby within minutes."

I was shaking and crying.

My midwife arrived. She hugged me and said: "It will be ok. This is the safest option. You will be holding your baby very soon."

I phoned friends and my sister-in-law. My parents were with me as they had driven in from Oregon to be here.

I was then descended upon by an assortment of technicians and nurses. The anesthesiologist arrived detailing everything she would be doing. The OB had a form for me to sign. It listed all the possible risks associated with c-sections. Including death.  

I walked myself down the hallway with my medical team entourage. Nick was suited up. My brother called just then to say he loved me.

I entered the surgical room with the midwife and anesthesiologist. It was freezing cold. I took a deep breath. Then I was lying down under glaring lights with my arm strapped down and my lower half numb. I was unable to escape this fate. 

Nick had arrived at my side and Paul Simon was playing on the stereo. The dividing curtain was up, I was helpless and I began to cry. This was humiliating and degrading. It was 7:00 AM.

At 7:09 she was born. I just caught a glimpse of her over the curtain and she was gone across the room. Out of sight and out of reach. Several nurses wished me congratulations and a few said: "Don't worry, her head will look fine in a week or so." Wait, what was wrong with her head?

She was given the all clear and Nick was able to bring her over to me.  A hat was on her head. She looked perfect and was very alert. Still strapped down, I was unable to touch her. I was stitched on the inside and stapled back together on the outside. We moved to the recovery room but not before one final dose of something nauseating administered through the line in my spine by the anesthesiologist.

The recovery room was a swirling vision of haziness. There were a lot of people and beeping things in the room. They measured and weighed her then placed her on my belly. She wriggled her little body up and latched on. I was dizzy and happy but mostly dizzy. They wheeled us to our room. I fought sleep and nausea desperately trying to focus on the little warm body that was laying on my chest. I was starving. I kept thinking: "If only I could eat a sandwich I would feel better." I wanted normalcy. I wanted to be coherent. I wanted to relish every second of this newborn's first day. My newborn. I talked the nurses into letting me eat a popsicle.

I threw up on my baby.

They took her away for her first bath and dosed me up on anti-nausea medicine. I fell back asleep. Off and on throughout the day I would be given more anti-nausea medicine and then fall sleep. I would open my eyes to see either Nick, my mom, or my dad holding Piper. Keeping a vigil at my bedside. It was very comforting. I don't think I would have fared so well if she had been whisked away to the nursery.

It was not until sometime in the evening when I was able to eat again and the numbness gone. I was awake and I was determined to not miss anymore.

The next day one of the midwives stopped by. She said: "Sometimes a baby will just flip at the last minute."

This baby never flipped. Her head, from being under my rib for so long was rather flat on top and had the appearance of a bicycle helmet. She also had severe hip dysplasia in both hips which required her to wear a harness and be followed by an orthopedic surgeon for several months.

She had a heart murmur which was audible until she was three. She failed her first hearing test at the hospital.

During the midwife's visit to my room I made it very clear I would not take any medicine that would make me loopy or require someone else to be present when I held my baby. I was in full mama mode and it was this that allowed me to focus on my baby and heal. I was given 800mg Ibuprophen every six hours and sent home with a prescription for Vicodin just in case I needed something stronger. I ripped up that scrip when I got home.

The staples were removed, I was mobile, and I was a mama. We were released from the hospital with only a two night stay. We picked up Guinness and some mint chocolate chip ice cream on our way. I was so anxious to be home, to heal and get to know my new baby.

I was not bullied or pestered into a c-section. It was simply a matter of the risks out weighing the benefits. There was no one skilled at vaginal breech deliveries at the hospital. We were living in northern Colorado at the time of Piper's birth. We are now in Oregon and recently, Oregon Health Science University has implemented a program for vaginal breech deliveries.

My risks for future vaginal and c-section deliveries regardless of baby's presentation have increased. Even if my water had not broken and they were able to turn her, I would have most likely ended up with a c-section due to the fact that her head was so misshapen because is was under my rib for so long. I am not angry because I had a c-section. I am upset because I spent 8 weeks asking and inquiring about breech presentations and what-ifs. Only to have my mom-intuition shut down and told I shouldn't worry and that was a butt under my rib. If they had discovered she was breech I could have tried many different exercises or even moxibustion to flip her weeks before labor began and possibly avoiding a c-section. I was mentally and emotionally unprepared for what unfolded at my delivery. It is still a source of sadness for me.

***Note- the story of Odin, a successful VBAC, is yet to come!

The Babymoon

The following was written by a new mama. I think this is beautifully written and a wonderful reminder to all women and mothers. Our society/culture puts so much pressure on women jumping back into their routines and fitting into their clothes. Shouldn't we instead be cherishing these first few weeks?

The past two weeks have FLOWN by. And now that they have, I feel I must offer all my friends who are soon to be mothers a bit of unsolicited advice: Let's make the babymoon official! When you get married, you take a honeymoon, right? You plan to do only relaxing, fun activities for at least a week, sometimes two and no one begrudges you that time...they wouldn't DARE...so it's completely guilt-free. It's a traditional gesture of good-will offered by society to a new couple. And yet when we have a baby, each and every one of us feels differently about society's expectations of us and how soon we should be getting back to real life. It's undefined, or rather self-defined. When Corban was born, so many people told me "enjoy that baby...they grow up so fast!" But for some reason I still felt guilty sitting around holding him, which jaded what little sitting around I did manage to do. And I believed people when they said I could hold my baby too much. When Jadon was born, I stubbornly held him all I wanted and enjoyed our baby time so much more but my mind was half distracted with returning to work too quickly. This time around I decided there would be no guilt and there would be certainly be no work. Only "play" for 2 solid weeks. The first week was the BEST...just James and the boys pampering us girls. Lots of family snuggles. Seventh heaven! Naps. Movies. Favorite foods. Meals from friends. Photo ops. At the end of week 1 James had to go back to work so week 2 of babymoon was courtesy of my fantastic in-laws. They occupied the boys with fun activities, made meals and did housework while I relaxed. Jeuel and I went out for lunch with some friends. We listened to Christmas music. We napped some more. The first two weeks have been such a healthy time of easing in to life with three kids. As I begin week 3, I don't feel overwhelmed, I feel refreshed. I feel happy and blessed.
By Christi Nelson