Monthly Archives: January 2013

“No Cry Sleep Solution for Toddlers and Preschoolers” Review and Give-Away

Elizabeth Pantley sent me a copy of the “No Cry Sleep Solution” for toddlers and preschoolers for review and give-away on Nurshable.

Way back when I only had one child, I owned a copy of this book that eventually got lost in a move. It was one of the things that influenced my choice to “Wait it Out” with each of my children, and many of the strategies that Elizabeth outlines went on to become part of how I approach the question of “what can I do to promote healthy sleep while I wait for my child to be ready to be a better sleeper?”

This book is very much in line with my approach to sleep. It normalizes infant sleeping (or non-sleeping) behavior, identifies true “problems” that require solutions, and offers many different suggestions that can help mom and dad encourage healthy sleeping habits that will eventually result in sleep on a gentle child-led schedule.  It is one part reassurance and two parts proactive strategies for stretching out what your child is able to accomplish sleep-wise.

I’ll be reviewing this book in this space, but figured that a fun way to run the give-away would be to have people submit questions that they want the review to answer. One entry per question, in the order of the comments submitted. The winner will be chosen by a random number generator and the book will be shipped out in about two weeks after the winning entry is chosen. (Since I will have to read the book in order to answer the questions and review it.)

 

 

“Too Old” to Breastfeed (from the archives)

(From the old Custom Made Milk blog)

I don’t know why it comes up so frequently.. Maybe because it seems like an easy conversation topic. Afterall, who WOULDN’T agree that nursing a 7 or 8 year old is “too old”?

When I hear this and the inevitable “Yeah! It’s gross” comments from other breastfeeding moms, I cringe for a moment.

And then I proceed to ask… “Well… Why?”

The answer always boils down to the same old arguments.

I’m gonna tell you this now. Those arguments that breasts are only for babies under 6 months or one year or two years on the outside? They hold no more water than the idea that breasts are there solely for the husband’s pleasure.

I request this of all moms, breastfeeding or not: If you’re going to say that another mother should do something or shouldn’t do something, at least be prepared with good basic facts and studies that support your judgement of her.

I’m not even talking about the moms that say “Well, I don’t think I’d be comfortable doing that.” I’m really not. Everyone has their own comfort zones. I’m talking about the moms that are quick to say that full term breastfeeding is “perverse” “going on too long” “encouraging emotional dependence”, etc. Please, please feel free to provide links to studies that say that children that breastfeed until 3, 4, 6, 7 8… Have any psychological or physical trauma as a result. Please feel free to back up your arguments. Because I’ve searched long and hard… High and low.. And have found NOTHING that says that breastfeeding at any age is a negative.

In fact, during my desperate hunt to find out what age to wean, I’ve found some interesting things.

Those interesting things are BIOLOGICAL MILESTONES. Hard set-in-stone gold standards for when a child is “Supposed” to wean. These biological milestones are based on the child’s physical, mental, sexual, and immunological development… Milestones that similar species meet.

Milestones that aren’t just “Well the child can survive without breastmilk now, it must be time to wean.” Our children are not puppies that we’re desperate to get into homes and out of the house. Ability to survive without our milk is the first and most crucial step to independence, sure. But it’s hardly the point at which to say “Success! Weaning time.”

A child essentially has a severely compromised immune system until they are two years old, and does not reach the full adult level of immunocompetence until closer to 5-8 years of age. This means that their immune system is still intertwined with mom’s BY DESIGN.

A child’s jaw and oral development benefits tremendously from breastfeeding until their permanent teeth start to come in.

Interestingly enough, the natural disappearance of the suckling reflex also occurs at about that same time: 5-8 years of age.

Breastfed children that are not introduced to hormone-ridden soy and cow milk tend to reach puberty later, at around 13-18 instead of the 9-13 which is becoming increasingly common in this country. In most primates, weaning happens at about 1/3rd of the way to sexual maturity. With the normal range of sexual maturity this would have children weaning at about 3-9 years old…

Breastfeeding is so ingrained in our biology that having children and NOT breastfeeding or weaning prematurely actually effects our health. Breastfeeding to 13 months or longer decreases mom’s risk of autoimmune diseases such as rheumatoid arthritis. Or… To put it more accurately… Having children and NOT breastfeeding full-term until at least 13 months INCREASES your risk of autoimmune disorders, since full term breastfeeding is the NORM. Breastfeeding decreases our risk of breast cancer, decreases our children’s risk of childhood cancers, decreases the odds of them landing in the hospital or suffering severe versions of normal childhood illnesses… The list goes on.

If you’re going to jump on the bandwagon and squeal “It’s GROSS!” “It’s PERVERSE!”… Fine. But if you do so around me, expect to be engaged in a quiet non-sensationalized discussion about facts, biological NOT arbitrary weaning milestones, and the negative impact of premature weaning on our society and our children.

I’m not telling anyone to breastfeed until this age. I didn’t breastfeed either of my two older children until that age.

I’m simply asking you politely to refrain from engaging in unsubstantiated attacks upon women that are following the biological and healthful norm of child-led weaning and full-term nursing.

I’m simply challenging you to think before you open your mouth or tap on the keyboard. If something has SO many benefits, and NO documented downsides.. If something has the endorsement of every major health organization… How is it that a mom can be CRITICIZED for doing it?

The Calm Place

Dear Kids,

There is a place that I take each of you frequently. A quiet place. A calm place. A place where time has no meaning. It is a place that I carry you to when you are infants, that you toddle to as a toddler as I hold your hand. A place that I follow you to as you become older and understand how to get there. A place that as a young adult you’ll ask me the directions to, and a place that you will return to as an adult when you’re off in the world alone. A place that you will be able to go to when you are very very old in order to feel close to me when we are no longer able to be close in this world.

We go there in the bright light of the day. We go there in the deepest darkest quietest hours of the night. We go there together no matter what else is happening. We’ll put everything down and find our way there together. Homework, dinner going cold on the stove, the shopping cart full of groceries, the argument where you started hitting each other. The day’s plans. The party. The boat ride. The craft project. The Easter Egg hunt.

I leave my warm sleepy bed to come hold you in my arms as look for that place in the middle of the night when it is hard to find and when you keep trying to lead me in the other direction.

Your father pulls over to the side of the road when we are driving, so that we can help you find your way there.

It is the calm in the storm. The calm inside of each of us. The calm that soothes away the anger, the sadness, the hurt, the fear.

When you rage in a tantrum, I carry you there. I do not “ignore bad behavior”. I hold you close and whisper quiet things to you until you hold me close as well so that we go find that place together.

When you cry out at night to nurse, I snuggle you in my arms and we find that place.

When you come home from school in a bad mood, I put your homework aside and ask you to take me there so that you can lead the way.

I want the path to be so deeply worn that no weeds ever have a chance to grow over it and hide the way. I want you to understand the steps that will take you there so that you can find your way there with your eyes closed in times of stress and upset. I want you to home in on it as though there is a beacon there to tug you along.

I want it to be the first place you think of when you are sad or angry. And I want you to crave that place like you crave no other. When you are not at ease in life, I want you to feel homesick for this place so that you will seek it out.

Because that place is deep inside your soul. It is called “peace”. And even though it can sometimes seem so very far away or as though it has been wiped out of existence.. It is always there when you need to find it.

This is why I don’t “let you cry it out”. This is why I don’t “put you in time out”. This is why I don’t shun you when you are struggling and having a bad time. This is why I don’t yell  at you when you are yelling at me.

I don’t.. Because I’m too busy getting ready for our journey. Because I’m picking you up to carry you, because I’m reaching for your hand.

I don’t want to “put a stop to that”.

I want to help you find that place that your heart needs to know how to find. So that you will always be able to find your way there from any place in the world and from any place in your heart.

<3 Mama

 

 

 

Time to Memorize You

Dear Daughter,

Nine and a half months have passed since I first held you in my arms and touched each tiny feature of the little face I had wondered about for the nine months that you grew into existence.

Bedtime has become the time to memorize you as you change from day-to-day and stage-to-stage.

Chubby cheeked as you always have been. You lay against my belly and kick your feet to make yourself jump as you nurse. You hum busily and meet my eyes with yours in the dim light of bedtime. Your dark hair holds the shape of the ponytail you wore during the day, making it stick up comically. I smile at you and your chubby little hand reaches out to bat at my smile. I kiss your hand and you grin as you nurse. I gently rub your back to help you wind down and feel how your shoulders and your hips are squaring out into the form of a toddler as you leave infancy behind.

I could be annoyed that you are still awake. I could ask you when you’ll sleep on your own. I could leave you to cry it out. I could choose to relate to books like “Go the F*CK to sleep” which has its cult following. But why? I do not wish to rob myself of the joys that this time offers. I do not wish to rob you of the comfort and closeness that you desire at this stage of your life.

Instead my finger traces the curve of your ear as it disappears behind your chubby cheek. Instead I’m amused to find a smear of blackberry from your bedtime snack that evaded your bath. Instead my thumb traces one of your eyebrows and I discover that as soon as I do that your eyes close. So I trace your nose and then your cheeks. You smile. And this is how you drift off to sleep this night at nine and a half months old. Smiling, cherished, and at peace with how life is.

I cannot go back to that first moment of meeting you. I cannot go back to when you were a newborn for one extra day of holding you when you were too young to hold your head up for long. I cannot return to kiss you once more when you were three months old. I cannot go back in time to capture one last second when you were six months old. Each day is spent as it passes, and it cannot be spent again.

I wish to spend as many of these moments showing you the joy of peace and calm. The safety and warmth of sleep and love. I’m happy for these moments at the end of our day. 

There are those who would rob us of these peaceful gentle moments. Sleep trainers say that you are learning to “manipulate” me by crying to be in my arms when you are sleepy. They say you will never learn to sleep. They say that is “failure” as a parent to set limits. They don’t want me to understand what I understand already to be true- that I can easily and gently teach you to sleep all on your own in your own room in your own bed without tears when you’re ready. Just as your brothers learned.  That you learn independence through security and not through being pushed away and left to cry alone.

Soon you will learn to sleep through the night all on your own. Soon you will learn to fall asleep all on your own. Soon you will sleep as well as your brothers have learned to sleep. Soon I’ll be grateful for the sleep that I can get at night and which I’ve missed during these months while you have been small.

For now, though, I’ll be grateful for this time that I have had to memorize all these little things about you.

<3 Mama

Let The Seeds of Your Heart Grow

Dear Kids,

I used to get caught up in sadness for all the things that weren’t, whether or not I truly wanted them. Sports I could have tried playing as a kid, a Bat Mitzvah like my Jewish childhood friend, sleep-away summer camp, a lead role in a play, feeling like a princess at a father-daughter dance, going to the prom with a boyfriend that loved me, being a princess in an elaborate wedding.

I never liked sports. I was not Jewish. I was afraid to be away from my parents. I got stage fright. My father didn’t dance. I never had a high school sweetheart and never wanted to go to a dance. And when Alex and I finally marry it will be a piece of paper we each sign, with something silly and personal to commemorate the moment.

These things all just felt like things that I /should/ want, that I /should/ be. Things that I should desire because of my femaleness or because of my age. These were things that everyone around me seemed to want from their lives.

Alex doesn’t open doors for me, instead I mockingly open doors for him. We tackle each other and wrestle and I try to win (and sometimes do). I squish around in the mud outside barefoot in the summer planting seeds. I have an aloe plant growing on the windowsill that soothes all the bites, burns, boo-boos and rashes that happen in this house that we all share. Alex doesn’t buy me vases of cut flowers, he buys me seeds to plant and grow. I birth babies from my body without the desire for medication, and I nurse them at my breast. I am a reader of books, a  doodler of little animals and aliens and flowers and butterflies.

Not because I have ever felt that these are things that I should want or that I should do. But because these are the the little seeds of my heart that grow as they may.

I’m no princess.

I am me.

And although sometimes I think I might like to experience some of those things that others do.. There’s a freedom in understanding that this is MY life. These are the things that grow well in this life of mine. This is comfort, this is joy.

This is not a script written by someone else, for someone else, that could be filled by anyone. This is me.

And you are you. With your life unfolding in front of you. Maybe you will be a princess. Maybe you’ll splash through mud. Maybe you’ll do both. Maybe you’ll be a motocross racer and a rock star, or a quiet librarian. Maybe you’ll have a green thumb. Maybe you’ll love animals more than plants. Maybe you’ll gravitate to technology. Maybe you’ll be a magician, a scientist, a landscaper, a sanitation worker, a police officer.

Do not try to be someone other than who you are. Do not try to be odd for the sake of oddness, or the same for the sake of similarity.  Do not try to be the thing that I want, or that your grandmother or cousin or father wants. Try to be the things that YOU want to be. Try new things, and see which ones make your heart happy. And when people try to discourage you, keep in mind that they are thinking of their own limitations and not yours.

Let the seeds of your heart grow as they may, and find joy in discovering exactly who you are.

<3 Mama

There Is No Book About You.

Dear Eldest,

When you were an infant I read books on ways to try and get you to sleep better, longer, and more. All of the ideas seemed sound. And none of them worked. They failed. Miserably.

Then when you were a toddler I read a book that made so much sense. It was written by a pediatrician who had obviously had extensive experience with children. It was full of generalizations that made sense and strategies that seemed brilliant.

I tried one of them that very day. A strategy that was supposed to show you that I understood how you felt, through imitating your actions and your language when you were upset.

It failed. Miserably.

The book went on to say that for some children it would need to be toned down. So I toned it down.

It failed. Miserably.

You taught me that for all the books in the world about all the kids in the world, there is no book about you. It’s not that you are different or weird. It is that you are you. And one of the things that makes you “you” is that you notice when I am not responding to you as you, but rather as an obstacle to a goal.

With you, and then with your siblings after having gotten to know you.. I step outside of the things that I have read written by people who have never met you. I cna get ideas and inspiration from those books, those websites, those stories that other parents tell. I can listen to advice that other give. I can seek out advice and ideas.

I can’t squeeze you through a method that has never met you and that cannot take you into account. I cannot tell you who you are and how you should respond to the things that happen all around you. I cannot form you to my wishes or my ideals. I can influence you. I can teach you. I can guide you. I can love, support, nurture and safeguard you.

You have weaknesses that I can recognize that are different from my own, and strengths that I could never imagine possessing. Your imagination gravitates to things that I could never guess at. Your heart is inspired by things that would never touch me as they touch you. You are immune to some of the things that hurt me when I was a child, but so very sensitive to some things which never bothered me.

I know you well, spending so much time with you each day. I know you well, having met you a moment after you were born from my body. I know you well having carried and fed you through your infancy and having slept by your side for your youngest years.

I cannot hold the whole of you inside of my imagination, even knowing you as well as I do. I cannot guess at the things you will feel, discover, grow into, become.

Expecting a book written by a stranger to contain the answers for you.. No..

I have to look for the answers alongside you as you are a child in my care. You will look for your own answers as you become a young adult and discover yourself.

There is no book that can contain you, no pre-imagined role that can define you.

I won’t pigeonhole you into an idea that someone else invented, it’s a waste of time. You’re not a character in a book someone else has written.

You’re a human being.

You always have been.

And I love who you are.

 

Are You Ready to Live As Though That’s True? (The Language We Use in Frustration)

Today I am grateful for something important that I have learned: I will not use certain language around my children.

I will not say “You’re making me crazy”, because it is an accusation that is not literally true. I will say “what you’re doing is making me very frustrated right now.”

I will not casually accept it when my children use Very Strong Language that can be taken the wrong way by someone who does not know them.

I will ask “Are you ready to live as though what you just said is true?”

I wish that I could go back in time and explain this to me-as-a-child.

I wish that I could go back in time and explain to me-as-a-child that it actually feels better and more accurate to word my frustrations accurately.

No I’m not angry enough to “want to punch you in the face”. I’m frustrated because I feel that you’re not listening to me. No I’m not “going crazy”, I’m dealing with a lot of stresses in my life that I’m trying to balance and I’m frustrated sometimes because even though I CAN balance them it’s hard. No I don’t “want to leave”. I want to feel as though I’m being listened to. No “FML or F-My Life” for me, I like my life- it’s my frustrations that annoy me but I don’t have to write off my life to say that.

I don’t need to use words that are bigger than the situation that I am in, because the words that describe the situation accurately are the words that describe the size of it and the frustration of it.

When you describe those things accurately there are solutions to be found, and no one can ever take your frustrations out of context to claim that that is who you are.

I have seen people talk “jokingly” about wanting to hurt their kids.
I have seen people vent or claim that they wanted to hurt themselves because they were stressed out in a relationship.
I have seen people “want to kill their husband” because their husband forgot to put the toilet seat down again.

There are problems with this language.

I used to use strong words to “jokingly” express frustration.

I’ve increasingly become aware that this is a habit I don’t want my kids to adopt. I don’t want them to grow up thinking that it’s okay to to proclaim that they are “insane” when what they really mean is that they might possibly be wrong about a particular idea that they have. I don’t want them to think it’s okay to say that they want to punch someone in the nose when they really mean that they’re really annoyed by something. I don’t want my kids to think that it’s okay to “jokingly” say that they want to commit suicide, because everyone who jokes about suicide makes it more likely that someone who is NOT joking will not get the help that they need.

When my two year old says “I want to hit you”, I understand that and there are limitations to his self control and to what he can understand when I explain things to him.

With my six year old, though, I ask him what would happen if he did that. I ask him if he really wants to hit me or if he just feels very very angry or very very frustrated. I tell him that if he really feels like he wants to hit me, that we have to find a better way to deal with that, and we try to figure something out together.

I want him to grow up knowing that there are solutions, and to seek out solutions proactively rather than just venting.

I never want my children to vent through saying “I WANT TO HURT YOU!” rather than working on solutions.

I never want my children to vent through saying “I WANT TO HURT MYSELF!” when they really mean that they are so frustrated that they need help in finding context for their hurts or their frustrations.

I never want my children to say “I HATE MY LIFE!” when they could look for the things that they don’t like about their life and work on making their life better.

I never want my children to say “I WANT A DIVORCE!” when they don’t get their way in a future relationship. I want them to work on problems, not threaten their partner.

I never want my child to think that if they said something misguided that they need to say “I’M PROBABLY JUST NUTS!”. I want them to be able to say “I might be wrong. I should read more about that.” Because I never want them to question their sanity instead of their research.

I never want my kids to say “I’M LOSING MY MIND!” when what they really mean is that they’re having a hard time figuring out how to balance things in their life. Because saying “I’M LOSING MY MIND!” is not as productive as saying “Okay, this really isn’t working and there has to be a better way of doing this. I need to figure out what is important and I need to prioritize.”

And because of these things I focus today on the language that I use, and on my reactions when my kids use certain strong angry words  or strong hopeless words to try to make me understand exactly how deeply they feel something.

I understand that as a child right now they feel certain things SO VERY DEEPLY that they want to throw up their hands and declare that this is the WORST DAY OF THEIR LIVES and they ARE LOSING THEIR MINDS and they WANT TO HURT SOMEONE.

But someday they’ll be adults like I am now, and I want them to understand that they are strong enough to handle the things life throws at them. I want them to recognize when they are NOT strong enough, and to understand how to seek any help that they need.

So today when I speak, I ask myself “Are you ready to live as though that’s true?” And I will ask my children that exact same thing.

IMG_8901

Two Paths in Toddler Discipline

IMG_8901Dear Mister Two-And-A-Half,

You, middle child, you head-butt people because you like it when you are head-butted. You roar at babies because you like being roared at. You push your sister over sometimes because you like being pushed over. You are rough and tumble.

You also listen. “You like being raaaaar’d at, don’t you, Alexander?” I ask. “YEAH!” you say. “I think your sister likes it better when you click your tongue at her like this: Click click click”. And you click click click. She smiles and coos. You smile at both of us. “She falls too fast if you push her back like that. You have to hold her head. See?” and I hold her head and push her over. You watch and you do the same thing, both of you giggling like mad.

It’s hard in the moment sometimes to recognize that the things you do at two and a half are not meant to be scary or hurtful. I can’t see inside your head, and sometimes what an adult sees is that a larger child is being rough with a baby. Sometimes what an adult sees is the need to protect the baby (naturally) and they forget that YOU are still a baby too, and that you need to see, to learn, to understand that there are other ways to do the things that you want to do.

If I yell at you, you will just learn that I yell.
If I punish you, you will just learn to avoid your sister.
If I always keep the two of you apart, you’ll never  be close.

So as hard as it can be sometimes, I breathe. I ask myself “what is it that you need to learn right now?” and I show you.. With the understanding that I may need to show you many times before you’ll understand.

Sometimes I have to pick your sister up, or pick you up to keep both of you safe and happy.

Usually, though, you learn so quick and remember so well.

Sometimes I think about that path not taken. I think about how I could simply consider your actions malicious. I could yell. I could be angry. I could point at a corner in anger and isolate you when in your heart you think that you are simply being playful and doing something that you enjoy. I could tell you “NO! Don’t do that!” repeatedly without telling you what you could do instead. I could choose to be angry, ineffective, vindictive, and attribute knowledge and intentions to your actions. I could push you away and feed the jealousy that you sometimes feel, and pigeon-hole you into the negative emotions and behaviors rather than encouraging you to enjoy being positive and loving.

I don’t want to simply stop you from doing certain things. I want to teach you how to do all the things that you need to know how to do in order to be a close and trusted friend to your sister. To teach you how to be as awesome a big brother to her as your big brother is to you.

There are two paths to discipline with toddlers: To discourage, or to teach. I try to choose “teach” wherever I can.

<3 Mama

Everything Is More Fun If Mommy Didn’t Say It

A number of people have asked for ideas on how to be more playful, as they feel that they are not very good at imaginative play.

One of the games kids love the most is when their dolls or stuffed animals talk to them. Coincidentally this was one of the games I loved the least.

My oldest son LOVED this game. He called it “him talk to me”. “Him” was his little stuffed toys that looked like the characters in a popular childrens show. I was terrible at that game. So absolutely horrible at it. For one, I have broken ears so I can’t get the voices right. For two- I felt like I had to come up with awesome scripts to rival that TV show. On the fly. By myself.

Then I learned the secret. Everything is more fun if mommy isn’t the one saying it. It doesn’t matter what is being said, as long as it is the stuffed doll talking and not mommy.

I didn’t have to come up with scripts. I didn’t have to use the right voices. I didn’t even have to remember the right names. I could ask my child what the names were 500 times in a day and it was just another funny game to him that the character had forgotten what his name was and that it was asking about different names that all sounded similar. “Am I….. Austid? Am I … Aussie? Am I…. Austlow? I’m Austin? Really? I don’t think I’m Austin… I think I’m… Uhh.. GRANDPA!” You cannot begin to imagine how many minutes can be spent making your child double over laughing as his stuffed toy tries to prove to him that he is actually a 6 foot tall balding man.

Sometimes the toys start off saying exactly what I would say. Sometimes they would proclaim complete incompetence in the game to start, and then laugh at themselves before requesting that my son give them a piggy back ride. Or they would argue with me and I’d ask my son to be the tie-breaker that could help me choose between baked salmon and rice or macaroni and cheese for dinner. Or they’d read books to him that he would not have otherwise been interested in reading at the moment.

If you find that you don’t know what to say when your child wants you to make a toy talk to him… Just say what YOU would say to your child. As long as you say it in a tone slightly higher or slightly deeper than your own voice while you make the toy move.. You’re being imaginative enough.

Understanding that freed me up to be more imaginative, and it actually ended up becoming a fun game to play.

You don’t have to be good at it. In fact you can be pathetically bad at it, and your child will still be amused. You just have to pick a place to start trying, and start. As you do it more frequently it becomes a second nature and suddenly everything has a voice when your child needs a distraction or to be entertained or reassured.

Playfulness as a parenting tool

My middle child has a special friend “Mommy Spider” which is my hand. Whenever he’s struggling with something my hand-spider will start tapping its feet a little bit, then will pop up and walk over to Alexander. “Hi! What’s your name?” it will ask. And he’ll be immediately enthralled. I.. Err.. Mommy Spider will ask him what he’s upset about, and he’ll talk about the troubles that he would otherwise struggle to vocalize.

A game that I used to hate has become a fun way to connect with a melting-down two and a half year old.

I Never Dreamed That I Was Not Alone

When my third child was three months old I wrote “The Wait it Out Method of Sleep Training“, a letter to reassure my daughter that in the future if she chooses to not use “Cry it Out”, she’s not alone and that it’s okay to wait it out, and that I waited it out with her when she was small.

In truth this letter came from the lonely place that hovers between methods. There has always been this unspoken half-realized hazy idea in my head that everyone’s babies do sleep eventually. The co-sleeping communities swore up and down their babies slept. The Cry-It-Outers talked about the occasional difficult night where they had to re-train. But in every method there was sleep, and those who were not getting sleep were somehow failing at their methods.

In my heart I rejected that idea, but still felt so lonely. My goal in writing the “Wait it Out Method” was simply to reassure my child that she was not alone.

Ironically, even in my haste to reassure my daughter in the distant future, I never dreamed that I was not alone. 

Over 100,000 people have read the Wait It Out Method and many people have written to me to tell me that is the method they use as well.. And that they just never had a name for it. Like me, they never dreamed that they were not alone.

The thing about parenthood is that it’s all about finding your tribe and understanding that what you are doing has form and purpose. From this place comes confidence and peace. From a confident peaceful parent comes confident peaceful children.

Some parents have magicsleepingbabies. Some parents find the perfect sleeping solution in co-sleeping. Some parents find their solutions in sleep training methods. And some parents are like me and those who are reading this right now thinking “I NEVER DREAMED I WAS NOT ALONE”. Some of us are still waiting. Some of us are still rocking. Some of us are still night nursing. Some of us are still working on sleep with our children.

And we are not alone.

Today, after a reader of Nurshable reached out to me for virtual hugs and reassurance, I started the “Wait It Out” support group on facebook. Feel free to join us there. http://www.facebook.com/groups/waititoutmethod/

I’m not alone. And neither are you.