Here’s what you need to know and understand about babies, even very young babies. They are competent, alert, paying attention, and learning all the time. Don’t ever doubt it.
Experts used to believe (and some still do) that an infant peacefully lying awake in his crib couldn’t possibly be ‘doing’ anything, or at least not anything worthwhile. One influential author even believes that babies “should not be put down at all” and that “babies placed in cots live in a state of longing…” These subjective assumptions and projections are not only untrue, they grossly underestimate the infant mind and are, quite honestly, a little egocentric on the part of the adult. Babies are only capable of being followers, never initiators? They have no mind or will of their own? They can’t take an interest in life unless they are in the arms of an adult? Janet Lansbury, The Secrets of Infant Learning
A short story to illustrate: R. is just a bit older than four months. We visited the pediatrician on Monday, and I told him that in reviewing her medical records, I had noticed that he had recommended she start taking a daily dose of Vitamin D drops back in September, yet her previous foster parents hadn’t mentioned this to me, nor had they provided me with drops. I was wondering if maybe they had been discontinued for some reason.
The pediatrician confirmed that he had recommended the drops, and she should be taking them every day, so I purchased them. On day one, R. eagerly accepted the drops, sucking them down without a problem, although she slightly furrowed her brow at the taste. Of course, I explained to her that these were her vitamins, and she needed them to grow healthy and strong, and I understood that they didn’t taste as good as her milk.
On day two, three, and four, she cooperated with taking the drops, although a little less readily, and again with a furrowed brow, and a bit of a grimace at the taste. I am trying to establish a consistent rhythm and routine with her, so I always give her the drops at about the same time of day, after a diaper change, and before her bottle.
Today (day 5), as soon as she saw the dropper, and heard me say, “It’s time for your vitamins,” she tightly clamped her lips shut! She knew what was coming, and her message was clear. “I don’t like these vitamins, and I’m not interested in participating in taking them.” I stayed calm, and explained that she needed her vitamins, and asked for her cooperation. She resisted. She pushed my hand away. She spit the vitamins, no matter how slowly I dispensed them from the syringe. She cried, and kicked her feet. She pouted, and made raspberries, but not the ones she makes when she’s playing and happy. These were more like “PFFFT…. This is yukky, and I don’t like it!”
At four and a half months old, R. clearly knows what she likes and wants, and what she doesn’t. She clearly understood what was coming when she saw the medicine dropper today, and she let me know in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t interested in participating. She is clear and strong willed, which delights me to no end. I believe these traits will serve her well in life, and I admire her spunk.
As much as possible, I want to honor R.’s preferences. But vitamin drops are not negotiable. So, even though she protests, I will continue to give them to her in as respectful a way as possible, asking for her participation and cooperation, acknowledging her feelings, and letting her know that I hear her, and understand that she doesn’t like them. I will also search for a brand that meets my standards for quality, but might be a bit more palatable to her, and hopefully she will learn to appreciate that while they don’t taste great, taking her vitamins is important, and I’m not needlessly torturing her!
Do you have a story to share that illustrates a young baby’s incredible learning ability and competence? I’d love to hear it.
“My daughter is out of control, and I don’t know what to do. She screams and screams, and there’s no way to stop her. There’s no talking with her, no reasoning with her, no bribing her, no distracting her, no consoling her. I’m at my wits’ end. I admit, I often resort to yelling at her or spanking her, because I don’t know what else to do. Nothing we have tried has worked. Yesterday, it was because she didn’t want to get in her car seat to go to school. We had to go, or I was going to be late for work, so I wrestled her into the seat while she was kicking and flailing. She screamed throughout the twenty minute ride to preschool. She was fine once we got there. She doesn’t act like this at school, just at home with my husband and me. I just don’t understand it. Why is she like this? My daughter is three. I thought temper tantrums were supposed to become less frequent and less severe once the “terrible twos” were past, but my daughter’s temper tantrums are getting worse and more frequent. Can you help me?”
I understand the frustration you are feeling, but in this situation, your “out of control” child is in need of just as much understanding, support, and compassion as you are. A three year old child who is screaming and melting down on a frequent basis is a child in crisis. She is literally screaming for attention and asking for your help in the only way she knows how to.
Doctor Gordon Neufeld says that the pre-frontal cortex (the thinking, reasoning part of the brain- the “wise leader”) begins to develop from five to seven years of age. Therefore, our expectations are unrealistic if we are expecting our two, three, or four year old children to make sense of their emotions or be reasonable when they are upset. Even children who are five to seven years of age are just in the beginning stages of learning how to regulate their emotions. It is our role to help young children develop the skills to make good decisions, control their emotions and bodies, and develop empathy and self-understanding.
Young children do not have the ability to think rationally about their experiences and feelings and then calmly explain to adults what is troubling them. They are just developing an “emotional” vocabulary; they are prone to experiencing poweful, overwhelming emotions, and they may not know why they are feeling so out of sorts. They rely on the adults in their lives to observe, to listen, to interpret, and to help them manage and express emotions appropriately. When things get too out of balance, they may “act out” their pain, anger, and frustration, or “flip their lids” as Doctor Daniel Siegel (author of The Whole Brain Child) says.
Doctor Siegel does a great job of explaining what is happening in our brains when a melt down or tantrum occurs. He suggests closing your fingers around your thumb to make a fist. Think of this as your brain. The hidden thumb in the center of your palm represents the “downstairs” brain – the amygdala – the “alarm center” and area of big emotions. The fingers that close over the thumb represent the “upstairs” thinking part of the brain. As children grow, they slowly develop the ability to be upset but express feelings calmly, but only if the thinking, “upstairs” part of the brain is still in connection with the “downstairs” emotion/instinct area. When we (a child or an adult) get really upset, we literally “flip our lids”! The fingers rise up and the “upstairs” brain is no longer in connection with the “downstairs” part of the brain, and that’s when a child or an adult may lose control.
A screaming, out of control child (or adult) is begging for help. Most likely your daughter is feeling extremely powerless a lot of the time. Let me share a personal story that may help to illustrate. I am currently in the process of trying to gain custody of my niece who is in the foster care system in the state of Florida. Today, I found myself veering towards a complete and utter loss of control. This has been an arduous process that has involved leaving my home, my job, my friends, and moving across the country. I am coping with time changes, climate changes, diet changes, lack of sleep, lack of any usual daily structure or routine, family illness and stress, and I am desperately missing my husband, my friends, and my cat, who are far, far away.
Given that I am an adult who has a fair amount of experience with loss and change, a fair amount of insight and coping ability, a fair ability to communicate well, and a fair ability to self regulate and self soothe, and given that this move was my choice, and I was prepared for a rough patch, I’ve been doing Okay.
What precipitated today’s melt down was experiencing a feeling of utter powerlessness with regard to the process involved in gaining custody of R. There have been an endless number of hoops to jump through, and we are stalled, three weeks into what should be a fairly straightforward and quick process.
Waiting to be with R. is hard, but I’m capable of waiting patiently if I know that everything possible is being done as quickly as possible to move R. into my care. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Nothing is moving forward, and the reason nothing is moving forward is not because of a lack of cooperation, communication, or effort on my part, but a lack of cooperation, communication, and effort on the part of the social worker involved in the case. Emails and phone calls go unanswered for days. Questions are not responded to with clear answers. Answers to questions change from day to day. Careless mistakes have been made. (My name was spelled incorrectly on a form, which has delayed the results of my fingerprint report which I submitted to days after arriving in Florida. No one notified me, or followed up, and now the whole process has to begin again, and there is another delay.)
There is no one to complain to; there is no one who cares to listen. I am at the mercy of the system, and the system is broken. It is an awful, frustrating feeling. Days go by, and R. remains in foster care, far from me. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know when this is going to be over. I can’t count on the people who are in power to help, or to advocate for me and R. I can’t even count on them to give me straight answers about what to expect and when. Today, as I screamed and ranted and cried, I realized, “This is a feeling babies and toddlers must experience all the time. No wonder they have temper tantrums.”
Little children have so little control or say over what happens to them. Their experience in the world is limited. They may often feel confused and frustrated- especially if they don’t understand what is happening or why, or they don’t know what is expected of them. If you sometimes hold firm to a limit, and other times, you give in because your daughter wails too loudly, or you lose control of yourself, it may be hard for your little girl to know what to expect and to feel safe. Children are easily overwhelmed and overstimulated. When a child’s behavior is out of control, you can be sure the child is in emotional pain. Your child most needs your support, understanding and empathy when her behavior is most out of control, and it may appear that she least “deserves” it.
What can you to do help your daughter (and yourself)?
You’ve taken the first step, which is to reach out and ask for help and support. That’s a brave and courageous thing to do, and I commend you. You have to understand and take care of yourself so you can understand and take care of your daughter.
Next, ask yourself what stressors (beyond developmental normalcy) might be contributing to your daughter’s melt downs. What is it about the preschool environment that helps her to be able to function well there? Is she getting adequate rest, good nutrition, plenty of active, outdoor play? Are there any changes going on in your family that might be contributing to her stress? Marital or financial problems? A new sibling? Changes in routine? A recent illness? Any or all of these things can contribute to your daughter feeling out of control and overwhelmed. How much TV does she watch? Does she have the opportunity to have some control and choice over things that matter to her? Does she have enough, and regular, unstructured free play time? Have you checked with your pediatrician and ruled out food allergies and/or sensory issues?
If you haven’t already created daily routines and rituals, now is a good time to begin. Young children cope best when they know what to expect and what is expected of them. They can cooperate and participate when they have clear boundaries. Simple, unchanging routines that they can count on give young children a sense of safety and security. Get into the habit of telling your daughter what to expect before it happens, invite her participation, and give her time to transition from one activity to the next.
Make a commitment to respond calmly and with empathy when your girl is “losing it”. Not only is this good modeling, it lets her know that you are on her side, and she can count on you to be the “calm” in a storm. Time out, punishment, yelling, or bribing will do nothing but continue the cycle, because these responses do nothing to address the underlying issues that are causing the behavior.
Finally, I’m including a resource list of suggested reading that I hope will be helpful to you. I’m wishing you the very best, and please do let me know how things are going!
Technology. It’s a double edged sword. There are ways we can use it that can distract us and create distance, and there are ways we can use it that can bring us closer together, enrich our lives, and support us in connecting, and building our relationships with one another. I think it depends in large part on how and when we choose to use it, particularly when it comes to young children.
I personally see no benefit in handing iphones or ipads to young children for the purpose of entertainment, distraction, skill building, or story telling. There’s nothing quite like holding a small child in your lap and sharing a book together- the fancy, animated ipad app adds nothing to the experience, in my opinion.
So often these days, when in public places, parents are tempted to hand babies and toddlers iphones to pacify and entertain them. It works. But is it really a good idea? Can You Be A Good Parent Without Technology?, questions this increasingly common practice. The author shares an observation she made during a recent train commute: “On this particular morning, a mom with a stroller and a toddler sat down next to me. The little boy was fine while he was standing and walking, but as soon as the train started moving, and mom scooped him up in her arms, he started wailing. Loudly.”
The mom responded not by handing her child a cellphone, but by holding him, and singing.
“And then, after what seemed like forever, but in reality was just a few moments, the boy looked up at his mom’s face and started singing with her. And as they sang, the rest of the us smiled. It was quite an amazing moment.
It made me wonder; are we too quick to hand a tech toy or an iPhone to our children in those situations because we’re worried about disturbing others? Is it because we don’t want to struggle with a screaming toddler? Perhaps we just don’t want to sing in front of a crowded train full of strangers.”
Today, I read How To Miss A Childhood, which highlights the many ways in which adults sometimes unwittingly fall into the trap of using technology in a fashion that creates disconnection and distance, and leaves both parents and children feeling lonely. The author puts forth a “recipe” she says is guaranteed to result in:
• Missed opportunities for human connection
• Fewer chances to create beautiful memories
• Lack of connection to the people most precious to you
• Inability to really know your children and them unable to know you
• Overwhelming regret
Happily, the author also includes a recipe for “How To Grasp a Childhood”, which requires only one thing: “You must put down your phone. Whether it is for ten minutes, two hours, or an entire Saturday, beautiful human connection, memory making, and parent-child bonding can occur every single time you let go of distraction to grasp what really matters.”
Magda Gerber encouraged parents to give babies 100 percent attention during caregiving routines like feeding, changing, bathing, and putting them to bed. She also encouraged regular doses of “wants nothing” quality time, which is predictable, regular time when the adult is available to the child without an agenda. She advised,” Turn off the phone and the TV, talk to your baby and explain what you’re going to do. Be fully present.” Not always easy advice to follow, even before smart phones and ipads were ubiquitous, but maybe more important now than ever before.
The challenge I think, is to remain conscious and intentional in our use of technological devices and screens. Certainly, there can be benefits to all of the ever expanding ways we have to “connect” through ever advancing technology and the use of social media. When and how can technology be used to enhance our connection to children and our understanding of each other? Let me share a few recent experiences that illustrate:
When family and friends are far away: On Sunday, I was able to Skype with S. (age 7), J. (age 3 and 3/4 ), and family for an hour. The whole family was present. M. was making chicken soup, V. was talking with me, sharing the news of the week, and S. and J. were playing. Both children spent some time talking with me, but mostly they played, and sometimes narrated their own play, while I watched and exclaimed. Both children were relaxed and completely un-self conscious.
S. was working on an art project, and J. was building an intricate block construction using gear blocks. He was focused on his project, but aware of my presence. “Look, Lisa, do you see how it moves when I turn this handle?” After a little while, he decided he wanted to do an art project too, and I watched as he carefully colored a fairy all in blue. V. and the children took me on a tour of their front yard, while the children talked excitedly about their preparations for Halloween. “Show Lisa the skeleton, Mommy!” “Lisa, look at the spider webs we got. We’re going to put them up after dinner.” We tried to reach out and touch each other, and give hugs, which resulted in giggles. Was it ideal? No, but it was a window into their world I would not have otherwise had, since I’m over 3,000 miles away. I was able to see their beautiful faces , hear their sweet voices, and witness a small part of their day in real time. They had my full and complete attention. They later told their mom, “It was almost like having a play date with Lisa.”
When a short video demonstration speaks a thousand words and helps you to learn or reinforces your parenting skills: RIE parent/infant classes aren’t readily available to everyone, everywhere, and it can be difficult to grasp the concepts through reading alone, which is why I especially appreciated this recent post from Janet Lansbury, with accompanying video clip: Would You Pick Up This Crying Baby?. It was also a comfort to listen to an audio recording of Magda Gerber’s 1979 Keynote Speech at the RIE Conference outlining the basics of the RIE philosophy. Just a few short years ago, these resources were not widely available or accessible, but they are today, thanks to recent advances in technology and the use of social media.
When a blog post brings people together and facilitates the creation of community in “real life”:I find myself in a strange unwelcoming land. My beliefs and actions are as foreign to the people around me as theirs are to me. It is a lonely place to be. So, I write to try to understand myself and them. I share what I write in the hopes that it will be helpful to someone else. This week, one of the women who reads my blog, and is a part of a small RIE inspired playgroup here in South Florida, reached out and invited me to join the group, which is how I found myself braving the wind and the rain to drive thirty minutes south to meet H., who is a RIE Foundations graduate, and facilitator of the group, and M., and L., and their babies who are participants in the group. We shared our stories, and observed and appreciated the babies ( who are the same age as baby R.), as they enjoyed free movement while lying on their backs on a blanket. What an absolute joy to find myself in a peaceful environment, with women who speak the same language as I do, and who are committed to learning about, caring for, and treating babies with respect. It was heaven on earth. I left feeling less alone and more hopeful than I had in days. Would this connection have been made had I not been sharing my journey in this form, and had M. not read and commented, and shared with H., who then reached out to me via phone and e-mail? I don’t think so.
When a parent can’t be present but wants to be: My brother’s new job doesn’t allow him to take time off to visit with baby R. for the one hour a week we get to see her. This week, he called while we were visiting with R., and R.’s mom held the phone to R.’s ear and her dad talked to her for a few minutes. I watched as R. became still, and seemed to listen. She then began to smile and coo in response. Then, something amazing happened. R. laughed out loud for the first time (that I observed). She seemed to recognize (or at least enjoy hearing) her dad’s voice. We also used my phone to snap some photos to share with her dad. Ideal? No, but it’s all we’ve got right now, and it beats the alternative, which is nothing.
When a computer helps a child who has been unable to communicate her thoughts to “find her voice”: See Carly’s Voice , about a nonverbal autistic child who had a breakthrough in communication through the use of a computer. “But one day during a therapy session, Carly reached for the computer. Slowly, using one finger, she typed help teeth hurt. Her therapists were astonished. It took months and much coaxing to get her to use the computer again (at that time, an augmentative communication device). But she began to recognize that communication was essential. Technology made it possible.”
I could go on, and give other examples, but I’d really like it if you would share your thoughts and experiences with me. In which ways do you think technology hinders or takes away from your relationship with your children? Are there ways you feel it enhances your relationships or creates connection and support for you as a parent? How do you find the balance?
It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I didn’t choose it so much as it chose me. All I had to do was say yes. It’s like looking into a mirror. There’s no arguing with the reflection. It’s just what is… Reflected back is the good, the bad, the ugly. Do I have the strength to face it, and accept it for what it is? We’re going to find out. My past, my present, my future, who I am, where I’ve been, where I am, where I still need to grow… it’s all there. For thirty years, I’ve lived far from my family and forged my own path. Now I’ve returned to them to care for my new baby niece. There’s no taking the baby and running. I am here for the foreseeable future, and I recognize that if I am going to be a good caregiver to R., I need to continue to face and understand myself and my family dynamics.
At this point in time, R. remains in the care of foster parents. My family and I are allowed a one hour supervised visit with her each week at a service center in Delray Beach. In between, we can’t see R., nor are we given much information about her care or her daily life. We keep ourselves busy and occupied by preparing for the day (hopefully, soon) when she will be with us on a full time basis. This preparation has included the “normal”, happy things like setting up R.’s room, shopping for clothing and baby care supplies, and road testing strollers, but it has also included submitting to background checks, fingerprinting, and a home study- which is a two and a half hour long process which involves having your home environment evaluated for safety and suitability for a child, handing over your financial records, being grilled by a social worker regarding your motivations, and probing into every aspect of your personal (from birth on) and professional life, including your childcare philosophy and experiences. The social worker then writes a report, which must be reviewed, approved and signed off on by her supervisor and her supervisor above her, before a lawyer can write a request for a “transfer of care”, which must then be approved by a judge.
I feel as if I am in limbo- neither here nor there. This week has included times of frustration, extreme sadness and longing for home and the people at home, a close and unwelcome encounter with a rat, and a bout of the stomach flu.
It has been a difficult and challenging week on so many levels, but I am not alone and without support. I have been buoyed by a constant outpouring of listening, love, prayers, calls, and encouraging messages from far away friends and family, as well as unexpected kindnesses from complete strangers, and people I have never met, but only know through facebook. I have discovered one of the greatest gifts and comforts is something that is within me, something I carry with me- my understanding and practice of RIE, not just as it applies to babies, but to all of those around me. Let me try to explain.
I will soon be R.’s primary caregiver, but for right now, she is in the care of others, and once she is with me, we will initially be living with my mother and my step-dad. I will continue to receive monthly visits from a social worker, and of course, I will do everything in my power to support R.’s parents (my brother and his girlfriend) to continue to develop their relationship with her. There is a lot of love surrounding R., and although I will be her primary caregiver, clearly I am not in “control”, and I must accept that while I have my preferences and particular ways of doing things and being with her, others may not share the same ways of thinking, acting, being, or doing.
So often, when I’m counseling parents or mentoring students new to RIE, I am asked the question. “How do I help others understand?” I hear anguished stories from mothers and caregivers who are struggling because others don’t understand, or their ways of interacting are different, and not respectful. Magda Gerber’s counsel was simple: “Don’t stress – let others develop relationships with the infant/child in their own way.” Janet Lansbury elaborates in her post Dealing With Parenting Differences Among Friends, Family, and Kind Strangers:
“Don’t say anything.” AND “Do model. It is easiest to appreciate a parenting style when we see an organic, spontaneous demonstration. Be a positive model of respectful care. You’ll be surprised how much others notice, if they are even a little bit open-minded. Strangers have approached me to say how much they enjoyed watching me interact with my toddler. The majority of RIE Parent/Infant Guidance Class referrals come from people who have admired their friends’ children, or the quality of the relationship they have with them.”
I recognize that this advice is easier to give than it is to practice. I am embarrassed to admit that when I was a new student of RIE, I struggled mightily with this advice. After having my eyes opened to a different way of being with and caring for babies, I wanted everyone to “get it” the way I thought I did. I harbored a lot of judgement and criticism towards those who didn’t understand or know about the “right way” to respect babies. Early on, after having participated in one of my first RIE Parent/Infant Guidance Classes as a demonstrator, as I talked with Magda, I blurted out that I thought the classes would be much more enjoyable and beneficial for the babies, if only the babies didn’t come with their parents. “The babies “get it”, their parents don’t.” (Forgive me, I was young, and knew not what I was saying.)
In her typical wise, gentle fashion, Magda laughed, and said, “Lisa, try to be patient with them- and with yourself. Just keep doing what you are doing, and you will see- they will get it, and so will you.” It’s taken me all of fifteen years of practice to realize the complete wisdom of those words, and of Magda’s message to me, but I humbly report that I am coming closer and closer to understanding…
Respecting babies means accepting that others may or may not interact with them in the way I’d like. Preaching, teaching, judging, and criticizing won’t help another person to understand or to change, but my quiet, peaceful modeling, and the relationship I develop with R. will make a difference to her, and to me, and nothing else matters.
Magda advocated not just for respect and trust for babies and their process, she advocated for “respect for all people.” She believed, “Having respect for the world is when you allow people to be what they are.” I am “getting it”, and because of that, I can relax, allow others to develop their own relationship with R., and not feel that I have to try to control them.
I am realizing more and more that RIE is not just something I “do” with children, but it has become a part of me, a part of who I am, not just with babies but with all the people in my life (although I admit- it is still much easier for me to practice with babies than with adults- but I’m getting there!). Yesterday, we had a visit with R. There was some kind of audit going on at the service center, and the place was swarming with people. Phones were ringing, doors were slamming, people were talking loudly, and we were relocated into a small, cramped office (instead of the play room) for our visit. R. was very aware of the changes, and it wasn’t the easiest visit. A well meaning person turned on the bright overhead lights in the office we were in, even before she asked if we wanted/needed them, then she turned them off, and on again, for no apparent reason. R. arrived hungry, and was having lots of gas and cramps, and we had to change her on a desk top next to a computer screen and keyboard.
R. was a trooper through most of it, smiling and cooing, but after she was fed and changed, she started crying, and I could see she wanted to go back to sleep. This is the kind of situation that would have thrown me, in the past. I would have become anxious, and critical of everyone around me, and I would no doubt have passed that feeling of anxiety to R.
But yesterday, I did not become anxious. I stayed very focused on R., and very calm. I moved slowly. I talked slowly, and I stayed connected to R., and it created this kind of bubble of safety and peace around us, despite the circumstances. It was like everything and everyone else dropped away. My mother was feeling anxious, but I didn’t engage in a struggle with my mother or try to stop her from being who she is, or doing what she does. I just slowly undid R.’s car seat buckles while talking quietly with her. When she was crying and all the noise and commotion was going on, I quietly held her, and acknowledged that I saw she wanted to sleep. I told her she was safe. When she startled, I acknowledged- “You heard the door slam. There are a lot of loud noises here today.” She fell asleep in my arms with a deep sigh. And then it was time to say goodbye to her again for another week.
I maintained a peaceful space inside myself, and R. responded to this. It’s so difficult to put this into words, but I wanted to try, because it’s truly a miracle. I am understanding the beauty and the gift of RIE and how it works, on an ever deeper level, as I continue to practice and live it. THIS is why it is so hard to “teach” RIE or write about it. It really can’t be conveyed so easily in words, and it really does come from practicing it and making mistakes, coming back to mindfulness and paying attention, and trying again and again to make the connection with the baby. It’s not about anyone else or what they do or say, it’s about who I am, and how I relate to R., and the relationship we are developing, and nothing else matters.There’s room to allow others to have their relationship with R., too.
“There is a kind of ‘holding’ we can do as mothers and caretakers that takes place in our hearts and minds; we can create an atmosphere for the child that is filled with the warmth and protection they need. When my son is out on his own in the space around me, I am always ‘holding’ him with me; in the way I move and the songs I sing and even in my quiet meditative thoughts (when I can keep them calm and tame that is).” Sydney Steiner , Learning Motherhood
When I read these words today, I thought of this:
It’s the first time…the first time I’m meeting her, the first time I’m holding her, the first time I’m feeding her, and now, the first time I’m changing her diaper. She isn’t even a month old yet, and she is so incredibly tiny. We only have an hour together. She is awake and aware, even though she keeps her eyes closed tight against the bright, overhead, florescent lights of the playroom we are in. She’s been cuddled in my arms for about a half an hour, and she’s eaten, and it’s pretty clear that she needs a diaper change. The circumstances are less than ideal.
There is no changing table, so I place her on a blanket on the couch. My mother is hovering over my shoulder, and a social worker is present watching my every move and taking notes. She begins to cry as soon as I put her down and start undressing her, her face turning bright red, contorting and scrunching up, her arms flailing, and her legs kicking. Whoever invented the term “non-mobile” baby, had no clue. I feel tense. I am supposed to be the “expert”, and yet…
Her wails are so loud, and plaintive- “I don’t like this!!!” I briefly wonder if there is a way to change her while still holding her. “Breathe, Lisa,” I tell myself. Then I enter a quiet, focused space within, and bring my full attention to her in the moment. Everybody and everything else ceases to exist. “We will get through this together.” I resist the urge to hurry through the diaper change, and quietly talk to her, remembering to tell her what I am going to do before I do it. She continues to cry and flail. She kicks off a sock. She screams louder as I wipe the tender, reddened skin on her bottom, and apply the diaper cream that the social worker hands to me. She urinates just as I am going to fasten the new diaper into place. Almost done. “Breathe.”
I finish, and lift her into my arms, one sock still off. My mother brings her sock and tries to put it back on just as she is calming down and settling comfortably back into my arms. “Give us a minute, Mom. Let her get settled, first.” It was the longest five minutes of my life. But we did it, together, and the world didn’t end, and the next time will be easier….or not, but my commitment remains to hold the calm space for her, to slow down, to talk her through it, and be with her in it, even if I can’t physically hold her through every minute of it. “Breathe.” And so our relationship begins.
“If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” -Steve Jobs, Stanford commencement address 2005. (My answer is, “Yes, I would!”)
Right now, there are no words that come easily, and I’m no poet, so all I have to offer is unvarnished, straightforward, and honest facts. I’ve struggled with what (if anything) to say on this blog about recent changes in my life, but so many of you have opened your hearts, trusted me, and shared your most tender feelings, questions, and fears, I feel it’s important for me to return the favor.
Three weeks ago, the phone rang. From across the country, my aunt shared news that would turn my world upside down- my brother and my Dad both weathering serious health crises, and my brother and his girlfriend were expecting a baby, due August 7.
Little R. came into this world a bit earlier than expected, on July 22. A new life, precious and vulnerable. Because her parents were unable to assume caring for her, she was placed with a foster family under an emergency order. A week of sleepless nights, and countless phone calls and conversations later, I found myself on a plane to visit both my brother and my Dad, with no clear answers, and only a hope of actually being able to meet R.
Meeting My New Niece For The First Time
Miracle of miracles, I was able to spend three hours with R. over the course of two visits in the week that I was in the state that I once upon a time (a lifetime ago) called my home. My brother and his girlfriend expressed a desire to have me assume R.’s foster care, and although the decision is ultimately up to the courts, I immediately realized that this was a request I could not and would not refuse- however, my husband was just as clear that this was a situation that he could not accept.
There are times in life when none of the choices are easy or ideal, and we are called upon to step up and live into our values and ideals even if it is hard and involves personal sacrifice. In this case, my course of action is clear, given who I am and what I believe in when it comes to babies and families in general, and this particular baby, who is a part of my family, and who is in need. This post, called Faithfulness, by Vanessa Kohlhaas, has been a source of inspiration, comfort, and food for thought in recent days.
“Our faithfulness is continuously tested. We do not get to be in relationship with others in a vacuum – and why would we want to. We are challenged in our relationships to change, develop and grow. And through this work we allow our love to deepen and grow with us.” Vanessa Kohlhaas
I am in the process of doing what I must do to prepare to move to Florida for the time being, to support my family and see them through to the other side of this crisis.There is sadness and loss, but there is also joy, and the promise of new beginnings, as I step into the unknown and say goodbye to the family I have loved and cared for for six years, and the community, friends, and life that I have built here in Santa Cruz, over the past three and a half years. It also means letting go of the wedding celebration Bence and I had been planning, and putting aside plans to grow Regarding Baby in new ways- at least for the time being.
There are more unknowns and unanswered questions than there are sureties right now, but if I’ve learned anything in the (almost) forty nine years I’ve been alive, I’ve learned that change is the only constant in life, and I need to just keep showing up with love, while trusting and following my heart where it leads me, even if it’s not where I planned on going. It’s a bit of a bumpy ride right now, but I am being carried by the outpouring of love and support from friends and family both near and far.
I will continue to write this blog, and I will continue to provide phone consultations, (and who knows?), maybe I will bring RIE parenting classes to South Florida. I’m sure I will have much to share with all of you as I navigate night time feedings and wakings, assuming I’m not too bleary eyed to write at all!
For those of you who have asked how you can help, at this time what I most need is help to find a good home for my beloved kitty Pandera. I’m not able to take her with me, and while that is heartbreaking, my mind will be much more at ease if I can find her a loving home. Pandera is a beautiful, healthy, intelligent, curious, and most of all, gentle soul, who loves nothing better than to curl up on your lap and purr. She is good company, and a talker. She must be an only cat, and she must be an indoor cat, but she does well with dogs and children. She is about four years old, and is a silver tipped Bengal. I’d appreciate any help or leads in finding her a good home. You can comment here, call me (831-296-2229), email me (lisa at regardingbaby dot org), or find me on facebook.
