I am thrilled to announce that R. came home to her family on November 29. 2012. I think she’s as happy to be home as we are to have her here with us.
A quote that sums up some of my feelings about our first week together: “If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle.” Vincent Van Gogh
“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.
“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.
This was a good reminder for me. It’s hard to be present and responsive and enjoy what’s right in front of us if our mind is full of thoughts and worries about other things. I wish I knew who to credit for this drawing, but I don’t. I found it on facebook, and tried to trace it to its origins, and while it appears in many places on the web, it’s always without attribution.
If I could draw even simple stick figures, I’d replicate it, but I’d depict an adult and a child walking together. I think small children are naturals when it comes to being fully present and engaged in the moment. This picture also reminds me of the importance and healing quality of spending time in nature, which can help to quiet our minds. I had the opportunity to experiment with quieting my mind and awakening my senses to all that was around me just two weeks ago during a hiking trip into the wilds of Big Sur. Each morning before beginning our hike, our leader would help to set a tone and focus our attention by reading a selected poem, and inviting us to join in a simple ritual of “bowing in”, after which we’d spend the first leg of our hike walking in silence.
When I studied with Magda Gerber, she often talked about the importance of the quality of attention adults brought to interactions with children. She stressed the necessity of slowing down, and really focusing, and bringing our full attention to the child.
In her post Magda Gerber’s Gift To Grown Ups, Janet Lansbury writes about two kinds of quality time we can spend with babies and toddlers:
“One of the gifts that I am most grateful for is Magda Gerber’s description of two types of ‘quality time.’ The first kind: “wants something” quality time is when we have a task to do with a baby like diapering, feeding, bathing, or clipping his toenails, and we challenge ourselves to slow down, ignoring our instinct to zip through it as quickly as possible. We try to focus on the experience, talking the baby through each step, asking for cooperation, sometimes dealing with resistance. It suddenly occurs to us, “What’s the rush? Is there anything more important than this time together right now? Why are these moments with a child any less important than his ‘play time’?” The child looks into our eyes as if to ask us what will happen next, and we realize that we are indeed having an intimate moment together.
The second kind of quality time, “wants nothing,” can encompass a wide range of experiences, but all we are asked to do is pay attention and have no agenda of our own. It can mean being quietly available as a baby explores patterns of light on a blanket beneath him, or standing nearby while he has a screaming meltdown because he cannot have another cookie. It may be trickier to see the benefit for parents and caregivers in this latter scenario, but it is clarity. When we pay full attention to our child for intervals each day, no matter what the tone of our exchange or the outcome is, we are giving him the quality time he needs. We are doing our job.”
Magda taught an exercise that I find helpful to this day in achieving this quiet, present state of mind. She suggested that before entering a parent/infant class, or before beginning a care giving task with babies, adults should take a moment to consciously slow down, and empty the contents of their minds into a basket (real or imaginary). Imagine depositing all of your worries, your lists of things that need to be done, your thoughts about what to make for dinner, into that basket, and saying to yourself, “I am leaving you here now, but I promise I’ll be back to pick you up soon.” It’s such a simple thing to do, but for me, has been very powerful.
Do you have a favorite way to bring yourself more fully into the present moment? Do you notice a difference in the way your baby or toddler responds when you are able to be more slow and focused in your interactions?
“What day is it?” asked Pooh.
“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
“My favorite day,” said Pooh.
― A.A. Milne
It’s summer time, and our routines and schedules are different. The week before last, we were all on vacation. One day last week (the day his sister usually gets out of school early during the school year), in the car on the way home from preschool, three year old J. asked me if it was “early day'” and if we’d be going to pick up his sister from school before his nap, and I reminded him that she was at camp, and we would go and pick her up after he had had his nap. I could tell he was tired and fighting sleep. He asked to listen to his favorite music CD, “Boogie Oogie” (the same one he asks to listen to every single day on the way home from school), and so I turned it on, and we drove in silence for a few minutes, and then he asked me again if we were going to pick up his sister, and I repeated the answer I’d given him a few minutes before. We arrived home, and as I went to unbuckle his car seat, he asked me, “Why we didn’t go get S. first?” I said, “J., do you remember what I just told you?” He shook his head, and I wondered aloud, “Why don’t you remember?” He hesitated, and then answered, “Because I’m a little boy.” I hugged him and reminded him for the third time what our plans were for the day.
It was a simple conversation, but I have been thinking about J.’s response to my question ever since. It is something so obvious, but it can be so easy for us adults to forget. Young children have a different understanding of time than we do. Sometimes, after J. wakes from his afternoon nap and he is telling me about something that happened earlier in the day, he will say, “Yesterday…”. Young children also sometimes take a longer time to process incoming verbal information, especially if they are tired or distracted, or if there is other noise in the environment (like a radio playing). Finally, changes in rhythms and routines that seem like no big deal to us, can be confusing for young children. And generally, the younger the child, the more true all of these things are, which is why it may sometimes seem like children aren’t listening, when really, they aren’t understanding, which can lead to mis-communication and melt downs (on the part of both children and adults).
“What do you say, Pooh?” Pooh opened his eyes with a jerk and said, “Extremely.” “Extremely what?” asked Rabbit. “What you were saying,” said Pooh. “Undoubtably.” – A.A. Milne- The House At Pooh Corner
I think if our children could, they might say something like this to us: “Because I’m a little boy, I need you to understand, and to be patient with me. Because I’m a little boy, I need you to slow down, and go at my pace. Because I’m a little boy, I may need you to repeat a request or an answer to a question a number of times, or find another way to say it. Because I’m a little boy, I count on you to communicate with me in ways I can understand. Because I’m a little boy, it’s easier for me to listen and understand if there is no music playing or other distractions like TV, toys, or cell phones, and it helps me if you can get down to my level and make eye contact when you are talking with me. Because I’m a little boy, I rely on consistent daily routines so I can know what to expect, and how to participate, and so I can make sense of my world. Because I’m a little boy, I need you to help guide me, in a world that is still so new, and sometimes confusing to me.”
One of our favorite books to share together: Little Boyby Allison McGhee. “The simple playthings, the everyday moments, picking up that hundredth rock — all of these are brimming with possibility…if you slow down and let the future begin with the small moments of today. Because everything depends on letting a little boy…be a little boy.”
Is it just possible that the Happiest Baby On The Block is the most oppressed? If a parent responds to a baby’s cries as Doctor Harvey Karp suggests, from her earliest moments, the baby may be getting the message that her cries won’t be tolerated or taken seriously. I know this is absolutely the last message in the world that loving, caring parents intend to send to their babies, which is why I have a difficult time tolerating it when professionals package and sell programs to unsuspecting and vulnerable parents who only want to understand and offer comfort to their babies.
Consider: What messages might a baby be receiving if we respond to their cries in the way Doctor Harvey Karp demonstrates in this video?
Doctor Karp teaches new parents to “recreate the conditions of the womb” in order to comfort and quiet babies through using a method he refers to as the “5 S’s“:
Tight Swaddling: Karp says, “Tight swaddling provides the continuous touching and support your baby is used to experiencing within the womb.” ( I don’t recommend tight swaddling because I believe babies need and deserve to be free to move their arms and legs, which is one of the ways they discharge energy. Additionally, tight swaddling can cause or aggravate existing hip problems. A better alternative is a sleep sack.)
Side/stomach position: “The infant is placed on their left side to assist in digestion, or on their stomach to provide reassuring support. “But never use the stomach position for putting your baby to sleep,” cautions Karp. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) is linked to stomach-down sleep positions. When a baby is in a stomach down position do not leave them even for a moment.” ( I’ve written about the drawbacks of placing babies on their stomachs before they can move into this position independently. It’s not worth the risk to your baby’s health, development, or safety to place her into a side or stomach position in the hopes that it will stop her crying.)
Shushing sounds: “These imitate the continual whooshing sound made by the blood flowing through arteries near the womb.” ( I don’t believe loudly shushing a baby sends the message that I’m present, available, and listening.)
Swinging: Newborns are used to the swinging motions within their mother’s womb, so entering the gravity driven world of the outside is like a sailor adapting to land after nine months at sea. “It’s disorienting and unnatural,” says Karp. Rocking, car rides, and other swinging movements all can help. ( Babies quickly get used to and become dependent on rocking, car rides, bouncing, or swinging to lull them and to put them to sleep, and then come to need these things. I believe it best to comfort babies with a minimum amount of movement. Rocking, swaying, or walking with a crying baby is often comforting for the adult, but I’d avoid taking the baby for car rides in the hopes of quieting them. Magda Gerber suggested, “All the many forms of what we call comforting, bouncing a child on one’s knee or rocking her in a rocking chair, often express our own nervous energy and frustration when confronted with a crying baby.”)
Sucking: “Sucking has its effects deep within the nervous system,” notes Karp, “and triggers the calming reflex and releases natural chemicals within the brain.” (It’s true that babies derive comfort from sucking, but they find their hands or thumbs quickly when given an opportunity.)
Karp suggests using these “techniques” in the first weeks and months of a baby’s life, and all at once! I don’t know about you, but I didn’t observe that baby Maya was comforted by having the “5 S’s” administered. To my eyes, she appeared to be shocked into silence. Not only that, but she was being “handled” and manipulated as if she was an object, not a human being. In fact, when I viewed the video for the first time, I didn’t realize that Doctor Karp was “using” an actual baby to “demonstrate” his method- I thought he was shaking a doll. I heard Janet Lansbury’s gentle admonishment, “If you wouldn’t want it done to you, don’t do it to your baby. In fact, don’t do things to your baby, do things with your baby.”
Even more upsetting and insulting, Maya is being talked about as if she’s not there, as Karp goes on to advise the trusting mom how to “trick” her baby into holding onto the pacifier, by “pretending” to pull it away from her. When he asks Mom if Maya might be hungry, and the reply is “Yes,” he allows that it’s natural for Maya to be fussy, and “If you were at home and not doing a little class, you’d feed her.” So- the baby is expressing a need, and the mother is understanding the baby’s communication, and the good doctor advises the mom to ignore her baby’s communication in the interest of continuing to demonstrate how well his calming technique works- for the cameras and all the world to see.
Again I ask, what message is Maya receiving? Wouldn’t it be better to help mom and baby to build their relationship by encouraging mom to listen, respond to, and honor Maya’s expressed need to eat? I would have been less incensed had Dr. Karp at least acknowledged or talked to the baby about what was happening. The infant was completely left out of the equation here.
Another difficulty I have with programs like Dr. Karp’s, which are meant to teach parents to “magically” stop a baby’s crying, is that they set up unrealistic expectations for parents. All soothing “strategies” may work some of the time, but nothing works all of the time.
This should not be a surprise; after all, babies are not machines, and do not act like machines. The problem is, of course, that programs that claim to be successful, especially when you “do it right,” can raise expectations that you should be able to soothe your infant. Then, if you can’t, and the infant continues to cry, you can feel even worse than you felt from the crying alone, because you have now “failed” somehow. The saddest thing is to hear about parents who say, even when they have done all the things they were promised would work, but their baby keeps crying, “I feel like such a failure.” Ronald G. Barr, MDCM, FRCP(C)
“Many babies cry a lot during the first weeks, even the first three months. There can be several reasons; most likely the premature organism does not yet function smoothly and babies have to learn to adapt to a very different life from the one that they were accustomed to in the womb.” Magda Gerber
I believe babies (even the most fragile) are up to the challenge of adapting, thriving, and participating in their own process when given a bit of gentle, calm support. Every effort should be made to understand and respond sensitively to a baby’s cry (which I see as communication), but I do not believe that we should try to (or need to) artificially recreate the conditions of the womb in order to quiet a crying baby.
In fact, quieting a crying baby should never be the goal. I suggest taking a deep breath, slowing and calming yourself before responding. Listen and try to understand why the baby is crying. You might say, “I hear you crying. I wonder what you might be saying?” If there is a need that can be met, like hunger, or the need for sleep, then it makes sense to respond by meeting the need. If baby is crying, and you can’t discern an obvious reason, then it can be helpful to reduce stimulation to a minimum, and just gently hold him, or lie her down. Skin to skin contact, gently swaying your body while cuddling baby in your arms, talking softly or quietly humming a song, may comfort your baby (or maybe it comforts you), but sometimes, you may find that nothing you do has a calming effect.
What is important for all parents to understand (but especially new parents), is that it is normal and natural for babies to cry. In fact, this is what is sometimes referred to as The Period of PURPLE Crying which “begins at about 2 weeks of age and continues until about 3-4 months. There are common characteristics of this phase, or period, which are described by the acronym PURPLE. All babies go through this Period; it is just that during this time some can cry a lot, some far less, but they all do go through it,” writes Marilyn Barr, Founder/Executive Director, NCSBS
I want to help all adults and new parents to understand that each day, newborn babies mature and “settle” a bit more, and that from the very beginning, babies are learning about themselves, about us, and about their world through their interactions with us. Babies are dependent on adults to meet their needs, but this doesn’t mean that they are not conscious human beings. Babies deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, and as partners in relationship from their very first moments.
I’m passionate about helping new parents to understand their babies’ cries, and encouraging them to feel confident in responding in ways that will strengthen and build the relationship and communication between them and their baby. To that end, I’m offering some further resources here, and as always, I welcome all questions and comments.
It was February 1998, when I attended a conference held by the New England Association for the Education of Young Children in Boston; the first ever focusing entirely on infant/toddler care and development. At the time I was an Infant Teacher at an employee-sponsored childcare center in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Diana Suskind, RIE Associate and professor at Fitchburg State College in Massachusetts, presented one of the workshops I was fortunate to participate in. Diana’s interactive workshop was an introduction to Magda Gerber’s Basic Principles as they applied in group care settings.What an eye opening experience this was for me!
Magda’s first book, Your Self Confident Baby, had recently been published and I went right out and purchased a copy and read it cover to cover that night. I couldn’t wait to get to work on Monday to introduce the book to my director and fellow teachers, and share with them what I was beginning to learn about respectful infant care. I hadn’t been so excited about going to work in a long time. I had been struggling with my conscience, feeling that despite having obtained a degree in Early Childhood Education, and despite years of caring for young children, I wasn’t truly giving the infants entrusted to me the best care possible. Something seemed to be missing, and I was often frustrated because I had no words to adequately express (even to myself) what this elusive”missing piece” was. That changed after reading Magda’s book. (Thank you Magda, for opening my eyes to a new way of seeing!)
Coincidentally (or not) on Tuesday of the following week, our center received a notice that a RIE 1 Intensive Training (Theory and Observation) was scheduled to occur in South Carolina in early April. My director approved my request to attend the training, along with that of another co-worker who was as excited as I was about learning more about Magda’s respectful way of being with and caring for babies.
I knew before I left South Carolina that where I wanted and needed to be next was in Silver Lake, California, the home of RIE. I wanted to learn to implement the philosophy through participating in Parent/Infant classes as a demonstrator (RIE 11). I returned to Boston determined to set this process in motion, even though my family and some of my friends believed I was “tilting at windmills” once again.
And so, that’s how I came to pack away and sell most of my belongings, leave my home, my friends, my boyfriend of two years, and a well paid, secure teaching position to come live at 1550 Murray Circle, as RIE’s newest resident intern. I drove 3,000 miles across the country with only a few clothes and books and my Kali-kitty in tow, and arrived in August 1998.
RIE Class- Would You Like to Join Me For Snack?
I came because I couldn’t silence the small voice that whispered “Somehow, you must continue on this path and find a way to share what you learn with others.” Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the depths to which my work at RIE would take me. It’s been a wonderful roller coaster of a ride- at different times joyful, scary, lonely, frustrating, exasperating, exciting, enlightening, challenging, satisfying, a labor of love, and always instructive on a deep soul level.
Yes, I honed my observation skills, and learned to prepare a safe, challenging play environment, and then to step back and allow the babies to lead the way, but the lessons went much deeper as I was gently (or not so gently) brought back to the awareness of, and need to examine myself.
I’ve often heard RIE 1 students comment, “I didn’t know RIE would be like therapy,” or parents say, “I didn’t know these classes would be about me!” In my quest to become a more sensitive attuned caregiver for babies I found I could only be as patient, accepting, and respectful with the children, parents, and other RIE students I encountered as I could be with myself. What a revelation!
And so, to Magda who leads by her example and who is the very embodiment of the principles she teaches, and to all of you who give so generously of your time and talents to RIE, to each of the RIE 1, 11, and 111 students I’ve worked with and assisted, and most of all to all of you who came and brought your most precious little ones to Parent/Infant Classes and opened the doors of your hearts and homes to me, I thank you. You have been my most important teachers. You are my hope, my joy, my inspiration, and the reason I refuse to give up the struggle when I am tired, and progress seems slow.
Bence , Me, and Magda
Magda, it is because of your example, and because of your quiet acceptance and trust in my learning process, through which I’ve sometimes stumbled and bumbled, that I’m beginning to learn to honor, respect, and trust in the unique pace and unfolding of each child and adult I meet. You’ve taught me the value of honoring the questions above having all the right answers. You’ve led me to examine the most hurt, stuck, judgmental places within myself, thus encouraging healing. Through this process, and my relationship with you, I am learning to accept myself as a perfectly imperfect human being, and at the same time, to become more accepting of the perfect imperfectness of life. These have been the true lessons and gifts of my time at RIE, the ones I will not forget, and will take with me in my heart.
With Love and Respect,
Lisa
Note: I wrote this letter upon completing the three part training (a process that took two years) to become a RIE Associate. This letter was originally published in Educaring, Volume 20, No. 5, Winter 2000. At the time, my plan was to return to Massachusetts to begin teaching Parent/Infant Classes in Cambridge. As it turned out, I ended up staying in California for another six years teaching and practicing RIE in a variety of settings, before moving back to Massachusetts and founding Regarding Baby. My relationship with Magda Gerber and my ongoing practice of RIE has led to profound meaning and joy in both my professional and personal life. My best friend, who happens to be Magda’s son, Bence Gerber (he teases that he’s my “other greatest love” – my work being the first), and I will be married this coming November, 2012. Magda passed from this life on April 27, 2007, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. Bence and I are working on an interactive book to honor Magda and preserve her original words and teachings. If Magda touched your life in some way, please share your memories at Magda Gerber, Seeing Babies With New Eyes.
I’ve been contemplating these words from Janet Lansbury for days now, as J., who will turn three years old in less than two weeks, has been growing in leaps and bounds right before our very eyes:
In regard to babies and loss…. Even if we never, ever leave our baby’s side, s/he will experience loss. Leaving the womb is “loss”. Anytime the child grows, accomplishes, becomes a little more independent, there is loss involved. Weaning and toilet learning are losses, even if the child leads the way. When the baby wants mommy and only daddy is available to her, that is loss. Loss is a natural, unavoidable part of life, even for babies. But babies aren’t “afraid” of it the way we might be… However, we can teach them to be. Crying is healing when it is supported by loving parents and caregivers. Babies learn something very empowering…”I’m okay”, or “Mommy comes back”.
I am always conscious of the fact that if I am doing my job as an infant/toddler caregiver well, it means that I am providing the baby with both the support and the freedom s/he needs to become ever more independent, but without pushing before the child is ready. Babies and toddlers grow and change so quickly, and even as adults (sometimes anxiously) look forward to “first times”, cheer new accomplishments, and celebrate developmental milestones and birthdays, both babies and adults sometimes struggle with the feelings of loss that inevitably accompany growth, change, and new achievements. While there can’t be growth without loss, I can’t help but feel that in order to truly embrace the “new” and the “now”, we need to acknowledge (not get stuck in, but just take a moment to contemplate and honor) what once was, what we are letting go of the baby that once was, the relationship that once was- and is now changing. If we can accept all of the sometimes conflicting emotions that come up (for both children and grown-ups) as we and they move through stages and ages, maybe we can move through them with a little more ease.
If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies. ~Author Unknown
At the end of last week, J. began attending a play based preschool program for three hours each morning (the same one his sister attended starting when she was 40 months old, and J. was just a newborn baby). He is so excited, proud, and happy to be going to what he calls “my school” (just like his big sister). So far, his adjustment has been going smoothly. There have been a few tears in the morning when his Mom and Dad drop him off, but he quickly calms down and enthusiastically joins in the play. “I cried, because I didn’t want Mommy and Daddy to go. But only a little bit.”
When I arrive to pick J. up, I usually find him hanging from the monkey bars, and he’s eager to show me the new tricks he’s been practicing after he leaps into my arms for a hug. On our drive home, he is full of stories about what he did that day, and the fun he had with his “new best friend” C. It’s clear he’s so ready for this experience. His teachers have remarked on his “delightful sense of humor,” and his “impressive ability to communicate and express his wants, needs, and emotions clearly,” both to them and his peers.
Yet, the very first day, although he played happily all morning, J. was a bit reluctant to allow the teachers to help him when it came time to change his diaper. He told them, “No fank (thank) you. I’m just going to wait for Lisa. She’ll come and take care of me, and change my diaper.” My eyes welled up with tears when I heard this story. Magda Gerber taught that caregiving times (diapering, feeding, bathing) are relationship building times. She urged adults to slow down and bring full focus and attention to the child during these times, and to include the baby fully in the process. When done Magda’s way, diaper changes are intimate, connected, “together”, enjoyable times between caregiver and baby.
As Janet Lansbury says in How to Love A Diaper Change, “Diapering is not just about getting a job done, or having a clean baby. Our hands are a baby’s introduction to the world. If they touch slowly, gently, and “ask” a child for cooperation rather than demand it, we are rewarded with a relationship bound in trust, respect and the inexorable knowledge of our importance to each other.” To me, J.’s response to his teacher spoke to the close, trusting relationship we had forged over three years of daily diaper changes.
Yesterday afternoon, J. accomplished another big milestone. While I was in the kitchen putting away the dishes, and his sister was in the living room reading a book, J. took it upon himself to use the small potty that’s been sitting in the bathroom since he’s been about two years old. He called to me to help him put his diaper back on after he’d finished pooping. Today, his Mom told me that he called to her at about five this morning, telling her he had to use the potty (despite the fact that he had already wet through his diaper in his sleep). He remained dry during his two hour nap time today though, and used the potty without any prompting from me when I helped undress him for his bath after we picked his sister up from school. It seems he is on his way to mastering toilet learning on his own terms.
Yet, last weekend, as his parents cleaned out the garage to prepare for a yard sale, J. enjoyed revisiting and playing with some of the baby toys he had long outgrown. I sat to watch him play for a bit, when suddenly he lifted his arms and asked me to pick him up. When I did, he said, “Lisa, I want to be a baby and a big boy too.” I nuzzled him and told him I understood.
I do understand, because even as I experience a feeling of joy as I watch J. confidently move into the wider world outside of the close circle of his family, while nonchalantly tackling the task of potty learning, I’ve found myself feeling a little at loose ends this week. There is a slight sadness and sense of nostalgia for the baby boy and young toddler that I have spent the last three years helping to nurture to this place of confidence and independence. We still have a close bond and we share our afternoons together, but he needs me in a different way than he used to. I am missing J.’s company and our mornings together, with all the easy, intimate rhythms and routines we shared, even as I delight in watching him grow and spread his wings to become exactly who he is today, and I revel in the fact that I have gained fifteen free hours every week to devote to walking and yoga, writing, volunteering, wedding planning, and (finally!) staring a parent/infant class.
It can be bittersweet, this letting go and saying goodbye to what was, even as we make way for what’s becoming, can’t it?
