6+ Months of Attachment Parenting

I was holding our one month old baby, when my sister-in-law "jokingly" announced over FaceTime that I was "spoiling" him.

I probably come across as more sensitive than I am for using quotes around jokingly. But, even the thickest-skinned mothers would find "jokes" like that lame. It's just never funny to criticize a new mom. And can we all agree that if it's not funny, it doesn't count as a joke?

Either way, my sister-in-law is certainly not the only person with a fear of "spoiling" children. Some people are convinced that practices like co-sleeping and baby-wearing will cause a baby to become too dependent on a certain level of attention, involvement, or care. But, it doesn't seem like attention, involvement, and care are bad things. So, they call it "spoiling". Because "spoiling" sounds like something you should avoid doing.

But, my questions are who are "they", and why do they care so much about how I care for my child?

Is it because "they" don't want self-centered a-holes to take over the world? Because I can get on board with that. I don't like a-holes either. So much so, in fact, that I actually do plan to avoid "spoiling" my child. But, when I say "spoiling", I'm talking about material sh*t.

I have this Facebook friend from high school. Days after announcing that she and her husband were expecting a girl, she posted a bunch of pictures of one thousand brand new outfits that she bought for her. They were all adorable, for the record. But, more recently, she posted a picture of her three-ish month old in their bed, and felt the need to add the disclaimer that NO! She doesn't sleep with us!!

If anyone cares, I actually like this girl. But, this seems remarkably backwards to me.

I think that giving a toddler too many THINGS is what spoils kids and turns them into jack wagon adults. I do not think that responding to a baby's needs turns them into the idiots who doddle in their little gang of five, taking up the whole sidewalk during rush hour, deaf to the phrase excuse me, and forcing me to step into oncoming traffic to make my train on time.

I think modeling is everything. If you want to teach your kid the importance of other people's needs, I think it makes a lot of sense to start your relationship by putting your child's needs first. I get why you're supposed to put your oxygen mask on first in the event of a plane crash, so if your postpartum experience feels like a plane crash, maybe you have no choice but to put your needs first. I get that. My mom was on anxiety medication for awhile when I was little. I get it.

But, if your postpartum life isn't a plane crash, my advice is: don't make it one. Because all this anxiety about "spoiling" babies can do that.

Part of me honestly believes that it's the baby product industry trying to scare moms away from allowing our babies to be dependent on us, because if they're not dependent on us, they're dependent on their swings, their mobiles, their security blankets. And all that sh*t just does not work as well. It makes your life harder.

When your baby cries unless you hold it, and you want to hold it, the last thing on your mind should be "spoiling" anxiety. Folding the clothes in a mad rush because you're not sure how long your baby will stay asleep after you put him down and deciding whether today is a day you shower may not seem easy. Because having an infant isn't easy. But trusting your instincts is a heck of a lot easier than trying to force a pissed off baby to be happy in a swing, although from what I hear, swings are fairly magical.

I know the fact that a baby needs a sh*tload of physical contact seems kind of nutty. Until you think about the fact that it had been living INSIDE of you for the entire nine months of its existence prior. And that it is, literally, in every way, completely dependent on you.

We readily accept that a baby's eyesight won't develop fully until six months, and we'll do sh*t like buy colorful books and toys to promote its eyesight. But, for some reason it's a challenge to believe that a baby is still developing brain chemicals that regulate emotions, and that physical contact literally creates those chemicals.

Whatever. Our kids can just live in a world populated by emotionally unstable jerk holes with good vision.

Because some people insist there's a difference between an infant's needs and an infant's wants. And they claim that babies cry not only when they need something, but also when they simply want something. Yikes. I will never believe that infants have mere preferences. These creatures can't even form a real thought. These things they "want" are dictated by instincts. Instinct: Science's word for BEST FOR SURVIVAL. Sounds a lot like a need.

I don't really think you'll permanently eff up your kid if you fail to meet a need to be held here or there. But, I do really think that crying is the only way babies communicate. Call it a need, call it a want, call it bacon. Whatever it is my baby wants to communicate, I want to encourage that communication. And the way to do that is by responding.

Dear parent complaining that your tweenager won't communicate with you, I think I know why.

I really don't want to judge how other people raise their kids. Because I downright loathe people who do that. I mean, if you love your kid, ten points for you. Ten million, even. But there are lots and lots of people who INSIST that prompt and constant responses, co-sleeping, and baby-wearing WILL cause spoiled, clingy, high maintenance behavior.

EFF THAT. I'm officially sick of this sh*t, and now that I have a pretty darn independent six month old, I can say it. In capital letters.

The real reason I'm so over it is because of my husband, who, at least partially, believed what all those f*ckers were saying about "spoiling" your baby.

I say partially, because we went through phases. Most recently, right before Finley could sit stably or move around well on his tummy, he did NOT want to be put down in his pack n play. We're talking bonkers. And not just Finley, my husband, too. Because that meant I had "spoiled" the baby. From now on, he would always have to be held.

It didn't mean that his brain was active and he needed more stimulation than a toy dangling over his face. No. It couldn't possibly mean that. It meant that he would want to be carried around until he was in high school.

Ryan and I argued about this kind of thing at least four times in Finley's six months. I would lose my sh*t every time, because I already emailed him 9,128 articles explaining that my constant contact with the baby was fulfilling a physiological need that would ultimately make him more independent.

Ryan would eventually get scared of me and stop arguing. And the next day, I would email him 832 more links. He'd pretend to read them, admit that he was wrong, and then a month or so later, we'd start over.

The very last thing I said in an argument was, Just wait until we get him a walker. Please shut up about this until then. I'm still trying to figure out why the eff we didn't order the walker sooner. Or whether I should have been more patient until he could walk on his own. Baby product industry conspiracy victim right here.

But it did solve my problem with my anxious husband. Just as I predicted, homeboy wants to be in his walker all the time. Until he gets tired, and then he wants to fall asleep in my arms or next to me.

Would he fall asleep if I left him on his own? I really don't know. And, I really, really don't care.

That's the awesome thing about ignoring all the horsesh*t anxiety. I will always help him to sleep, as long as he needs it. Pinterest told me that there are only like 940 Saturdays between your baby's birth and when s/he leaves for college. So, I will prioritize and enjoy every snuggle I can get.

4 Lies About Breastfeeding

Know why I don't criticize moms who don't breastfeed? It's f*cking hard. Sometimes impossible.

I've heard a bunch of lies about breastfeeding. Lies become material for criticizing formula feeders, lies make it difficult to distinguish the hard from impossible, and lies are just annoying.

So I'd like to debunk the following (I've always wanted to debunk something):

1. "Your body will produce the right amount." (My mom)

No. And I have no idea why she told me this, because she supplemented fairly early because she was afraid she wasn't making enough. (And despite not being EBF, I have always been very, very healthy. On the rare occasion that I stayed home from school (and now work), it was almost always because I was faking it.)

I've had a lot of friends give up once they first tried to pump and were only getting a couple ounces at a time. That's exactly what I was getting when I first started. I gave myself a month to get a backup supply for when I went back to work, which resulted in somewhere around 30 ounces, if that. But, that was buffer enough as long as I pumped the equivalent of what Finley ate while we were apart. But I didn't. At first.

I Googled the hell out of ways to increase milk supply and found some good stuff. Like this and this and this.

The best of that good stuff: snacking. The downside, though, is that you're snacking on oatmeal and carrot juice. And fenugreek supplements. (Spell check doesn't even know what fenugreek is. No, I don't mean "greenback".) And worse, no candy canes! I know. It's July. I'm not sure whether I'm turning into Buddy the Elf or if it's just forbidden fruit syndrome, but as soon as I read that peppermint decreases milk supply, all I've wanted is a stupid candy cane. And then there's the unthinkable horror that I'll still be breastfeeding and stocking when it actually is Christmastime. I wonder how many Christmas cookies I'll have to eat to compensate for not having candy canes. I digress.

And, it's even harder than giving up peppermint. For a long stretch, I had to be rocking the dairy cow setup for about four hours of the work day to yield four bottles, and sometimes I'd still come up short. As long as Finley only downed three a day, we were cool. But then he started going for four, so we did a little role reversal and I started waking him up in the night for more feedings to give production a kick and fill him up. It took a couple months to get out of the woods, and if I drop the ball on any part of my routine, it's instant regression.

Even if you're willing to work your tail off to keep your kid on nothing but boob milk, it could be out of your hands. Not every mom has an office door and a job where it's usually okay to be in isolation for more than half the workday. And for those moms, hard might really be impossible. That's a big reason I get annoyed at moms judging other moms.

2. "If it hurts, you're doing it wrong." (The Internet)

Just because those mobsters over at La Leche League claim to know how to get it to work without pain, doesn't mean I'm doing it wrong. If my kid is eating, and he's not hungry, I'm doing it right. Listen, Internet, you can tell me that it doesn't HAVE to hurt or something, but don't tell me I'm doing it wrong. YOU'RE doing it wrong! (I kid. I know they're loving humans over at LLL. I know.)

It hurt bad. Like, I would have traded that pain for giving birth again. Toe-curling pain. I was in a constant state of fear of that latch.

And no, I didn't bother to get a consultant. Very often during those first few weeks, I was clothed in at least three bodily fluids. I didn't need to worry about a consultant smelling me, and the problem seemed pretty obvious: There was a creature sucking on my raw nipples for, I don't know, seven hours a day? My friend had a baby two months before me, and she took breastfeeding classes, read books, saw a consultant, maybe more than one. And while basically everything about her makes me feel like a bit of a slacker, I felt pretty okay about things when she told me it hurt for a month for her, too.

Praise the Lord, it got better around a month. I don't think I'd still be breastfeeding if it hadn't.

3. "You have to start supplementing to get enough sleep." (Friends with babies)

There's another option: co-sleeping. It's so easy. Call me lazy, but I prefer the easy way. You can also call me well rested. Because I am. And you get to dangle You've never had to wake up at night to take care of the baby over your spouse's head for, like, the rest of your lives.

I'm sure that's not always the silver bullet combo it has been for me. And, if you're not into co-sleeping, night feedings are what they are, in which case this number 3 isn't so much a lie for you. Lying about a lie. That's no good.

4. "The weight comes right off when you breastfeed." (Everyone who hasn't breastfed)

Seriously. Don't count on it.

I tried to make this happen. Around week two, I wanted to eat every pretzel, dark chocolate chip, bagel, granola bar, and piece of pizza I saw. And I more or less did. A box of granola bars would last one day in our house. And after a full day of eating, I could totally take care of one of those huge bags of Pirate's Booty all by myself. And then ask my husband to get me ice cream.

I hadn't been a big eater during pregnancy, so I actually watched myself gain weight since I gave birth, which I was pretty sure was backwards. So, after a few weeks, I foolishly attempted to get control of my lumberjack appetite. And my production went down.

So, I figured, f*ck that, I need to eat. Cheese. Chocolate. Peanut butter. Almond butter. Regular butter. Eventually my appetite got slightly less lumberjacky, but pounds are still not melting off of me. The only melting going on is in the form of cheese.

4 Things I've Learned About Co-Sleeping

Disclaimer: Like everything I write, this is about my personal experience. I might try to sound as though you should find it worthwhile; I might even include links to legitimate science. But no, I don't think my way is for everyone. I have come to that conclusion based on the fact that not everyone wants to do it my way.

1. It doesn't mean your infant will die.

I know this because Finley is still alive. I was really banking on this, since, like a lot of moms, I would do anything to keep my baby alive.

I read things like this and this and this, and decided I could do it safely.

If you can't do it safely, it would probably be a bad idea for you.

2. It doesn't mean your infant will refuse to sleep alone.

Well, I haven't tried putting my boy down on his own for the night since the first night we got home and I was really tired and didn't yet have the co-sleeping logistics worked out.

But, I can tell you that you can put him down for a nap, and nap he will. Unless he has a burp, in which case he will go bonkers.

3. It does mean you'll get to sleep.

Finley had a fussy week-and-a-half around the end of his first month, and there were a few nights in that time that I could relate to the plight of the "every mom". Other than that, I would have to lie. Which I have done. It's really awkward to tell a frazzled fellow new mom that you get all the sleep you want and are never tired. That's not the best way to make friends. You get a reaction similar to what you'd get if you slapped a puppy in front of her.

Worse, try telling that to someone who has a vendetta against co-sleeping. Then it's like slapping a puppy and a kitten.

So, Finley goes to sleep around 7pm, wakes up to eat a couple times maybe, and is up for the day around 6am. I don't usually remember the feedings because it goes like this: Open Eyes; Flop; Suckle-Gulp (times a few); Un-Flop; Sleep.

If I have to pee, I change him too, but that doesn't happen every night. I assume that's okay because he doesn't get pissed off if I don't change him and we haven't experienced diaper rash yet.

4. It does mean people will judge you.

Um, because they're jealous. (See number 3.) No, I'm kidding. They might not be jealous, they might really think it's a poor decision.

The most common reaction I get to admitting that we co-sleep is a semi-contorted facial expression, which is my signal to go find someone else to talk to, because I would much rather them think I am wrong than try to convince them I am not. (I was one of the cool kids in college. You know, on the debate team. So, in those four years, I did enough arguing and persuading to cover the rest of my life.)

But since this is my blog and I get to say what I want and ignore comments, I'll be straightforward about what I think. Ultimately, co-slept kids are more independent and just better in a whole bunch of other ways. I really like how Mark frames the discussion.

As to logistics, I don't care how long it takes for Fin to wean away and sleep on his own. I don't care if he does it when he's a year, or when he's ten years.

However, I can't say with any degree of certainty whether my husband is okay with that last thing I wrote. I know, you're supposed to be on the same page or at least communicate about those things.

Well, the reason I don't know is only because he doesn't know. If you bring up the story about John, who sleeps on his couch while his two daughters (ages 5 and 8) sleep in his bed with his wife, Ryan will demand a transition plan for independent sleeping. But, if you tell him how Pete, the race car driver, has a ginormous half-room-sized sunken couch in his living room, where he sleeps nightly along with his wife, 13 year-old daughter, and 10 year-old son (with whom he often performs "Boats N Hoes" as a duet), he instantly becomes long-term co-sleeping's biggest advocate.

I'm not sure whether the above paragraph came across as real or not, but it is. John is a friend of a friend, and Pete is my in-laws' neighbor. And those were both Ryan's real reactions.

One of our favorite things to do as a married couple is to "table" issues. It's a great way to not have to deal with something. And, I know that sounds lazy, but you could run through a million hypotheticals and still be caught off guard by an unanticipated nuance. Or, you could just wait and see what happens, and then adjust on the fly. We're both good on the fly, so that's how we do.