Team Work--So much work, not much team

Adjusting to two kids is tough. I only recently realized that one reason for my protracted, painful adjustment comes from my parenting style. I didn’t even realize that I had some central ideology guiding me until my friend mentioned that her friend based her parenting around cloth diapers (i.e. “Cloth diapers are the foundation to the way I parent my kids.”) But this was a friend quoting a friend and all from a conversation we had a couple months ago. So don’t quote me on that. 

It got me to thinking, “What’s my foundation? Do I even have one?” And the crazy thing is that I knew the answer right away: attachment. 

I am aware that there are probably even better foundations I could have. I’m imagining sitting in relief society (church class with other women) where we have this oddly specific discussion on parenting and after I offer my response on what I center my parenting around (and my friend's friend talks about cloth diapering), some lady raises her hand and says, “WELL I CENTER MY PARENTING AROUND CHRIST!” (I don’t why she’s shouting in this imagined scenario. Probably because she’s the worst.) Okay imaginary church lady, you win. You have a better foundation. But mine still is attachment. 

Blurb about attachment~

I learned of attachment theory in grad school and it really struck a chord with me. It’s this idea that children paradoxically learn to become independent, thriving members of society by having a parent they can depend upon. And not just for their physical needs, but emotional needs.

For example, if a securely attached child is feeling unsafe in a new environment, s/he will be able to return to their attachment figure (either by look or physical proximity) and feel safer. Parents who are in tune with their children respond with empathy and strengthen those bonds.

It’s interesting because there was a time (not long ago) when parents were told to encourage more independence in their children: Don’t coddle your kids. Be firm. Make sure that they can do things on their own. Don't let them get too attached or they become dependent. --> That kind of attitude. 

And some parents took it to an extreme. Instead of responding to their child's bid for connection in a moment of emotional need, and then encouraging them to try again, they would skip to the encourage-child-to-be-independent-slash-stop-bothering-me part. And not just when their child needed a good push, but frequently. It looked less like encouraging independence and more like discouraging pleas for assistance. 

"Mom/Dad I am worried!" --> child is not in physical danger --> "You're fine." --> "Mom/Dad I need help!" --> child is not in physical danger --> "Stop worrying."

When a person you care about makes a bid for connection, even if they are overreacting to something small or being "needy," you respond with love and acceptance if you actually care about that relationship. You turn toward them.  And that's especially true of a relationship with a child. Can you imagine if you responded with "You're fine," every time a friend would try confiding in you? Maybe s/he needs that tough love every once in a while, but more often than not, it's not a great response. That friend would probably stop confiding in you and might even stop wanting to be around you generally. The same goes for children who are discouraged from going to their primary caregiver when they feel unsafe. 

And while a child with parents from that background may end up being a high functioning, productive member of society, they may have some deep seated interpersonal issues centered around attachment (e.g., avoidant or anxious styles of attachment). This often looks like a chronic difficulty forming close bonds with other people (either allowing people to get too close or having anxiety that people will abandon them).

To sum up here, if you keep pushing your kid away in hopes that she’ll be more independent, she’ll mostly likely learn that she can’t depend on you. At least, emotionally. It’s only when a child knows that he is welcome to come back to a safe, secure place that he can begin to feel confident enough to venture out further the next time. 

End of blurb ~

When child number 1 came along, I was always trying to stay connected. Like most parents I know, I engaged in back and forth interaction and I tried to make sure I wasn't distracted when he was really talkative. Unlike other parents, I had an anxiety about the moments we weren't connected even though I knew then that it's good for kids to have time to themselves. I even made sure to stay connected during our short drives to and from Daddy’s school: I would blow raspberries and he would blow them back. It was so freaking adorable and he got REALLY good at it. 

The times I couldn't attend to him immediately brought about a dramatic rise in my anxiety, and not just because he might be in physical danger (I did have postpartum anxiety) but because I was worried he might think he could not depend on me (thinking back on those severe cases of neglect I had learned about in school where a child stopped crying for assistance after hours of neglect over the course of months and developed antisocial personality disorder). My vigilance made sleep training an ulcer of an experience. I put an unhealthy amount of pressure on myself and it wasn't necessary. Children don't need that degree of checking in/interaction to form secure attachments. 

Despite my unnecessary anxiety over my first and my OCD-like checking in behavior, he turned out okay. We became something of an inseparable duo--a team. He was my little buddy and that meant he would go where I would go. And when he could decide for himself, he was pretty much always welcome to join me, and he typically would. There were times I wondered if I should set better boundaries about where he couldn't go, but I figured it was probably fine. Probably.

The point is, I wanted him to feel welcome and wanted. That was my priority. 

Well, fast forward a few years and now I have two babies. Both of whom are super light sleepers, which means I can’t have S in the same room when I try to nurse C to sleep. I used to have both boys in bed with me while I nursed, but it’s just not feasible anymore. C gets fussier as he is unable to sleep with S in the background--EVEN IF HE’S JUST WATCHING A SHOW ON MY PHONE AT A LOW VOLUME. I tell you, light sleepers. So I started booting S from the room. 

(Another complication is that C is just generally high maintenance when it comes to how he likes to be fed. He sometimes will only eat if he is lying next to me in bed, with a blankie, and with no distracting brother around. Also, he doesn't like it when my legs touch his feet. 😂 I really wish he would tolerate less than ideal feeding conditions--like on the couch and with a noisy brother nearby.)

At first I was really good about getting back to S soon after C fell asleep. And then with high energy that I conjured out of thin air, I would announce how excited I was to return to S to play! But then I got tired. I would fall asleep while nursing C without planning to. Or sometimes I would plan to sleep a little by turning on a show with the hope that S would stay away for a bit longer than the nursing would take. Then I got a child’s door knob cover on my bedroom door.

In my defense, the door knob cover was to prevent S from waking C. I really only closed the door (and essentially locked him out) for the short time it would take to get C to sleep and then I would leave C sleeping in my room while I resumed my nap on the couch where S was watching a show. I would only lock myself in for hours during the weekends when my husband was watching S while I napped. I figured S was getting used to it. That, and my eternal zombieness. 

Last week, I woke S up from his nap and he was still a bit groggy (he still takes very long naps which is a blessing on those days I need it but actually disrupts his sleep if we allow him to nap until he naturally wakes). It was the weekend and Canute had followed me into S’s room after I had woken the tiny grumpy beast. I have found that the best way to wake him is by making him laugh, so I made fun of Canute’s wrinkly elbows and then showed S how he also had wrinkly elbows. We laughed together and then I felt a wave of fatigue rush over me. I told Canute that I wanted to take a short nap while baby number 2 was still asleep. I started toward my room not realizing S had been following our conversation (something that happens a lot more these days). As I walked the two paces to my room, I noticed S at the door waiting for me to open it. 

“I’m going to take a nap in the big bed too.”

“Go play with Daddy, Sweetie.”

Face pained, he shrugged his shoulders, turned, whimpered, and walked away with this posture I can only describe as embarrassed and ashamed.

"Hey bud!"

And then he ran, his cry intensifying. I rushed after him and he eventually let me hold him as he sobbed. I apologized repeatedly and cried a little myself.

I thought he was getting more independent, but really I was just pushing him away and hoping for the best.

Before C was born, I would have never sent S away if he wanted to join me for a nap (or a prolonged waking up). He was almost always welcome to join me while I performed my mundane daily activities. And he knew it, and I was glad he knew it. We were a team!

It’s no wonder that he is feeling excluded and unwanted.

I hate the thought of us not being a team anymore. 

But how do I meet his needs as well as the needs of my other child who needs me and only me so often?

I’m at a loss, and I'm tired.

I guess the only thing I keep coming back to is a dire need to sleep-train C. Being a functional human again is long overdue.