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I birthed my son at home, unassisted, gently, joyfully. My daughter was 2 and still nursing, still welcome to crawl into our bed at the hour she deemed right, dear and close to my heart. I assumed my bond with this new baby would be even deeper because of our birth experience and because now that I had one child, I felt I could only be a better mother to the second.
It wasn’t that way – though I parented him in the same way I had my daughter, Orion and I never clicked. I lost patience with him sometimes, sometimes resented his needs when they conflicted with my own. He demanded foods very early, around four months, and I started giving them to him at five months. Although he was big and healthy, he didn’t nurse for comfort. I felt disconnected to him and guilty.
When he was seven months old I joined the Unitarian church. During a young adult worship one afternoon, another woman led us in a guided meditation. The clary sage oil in her burner brought me back to Orion’s birth, when I rubbed the clary sage and arnica oil a friend had made onto my belly during the most difficult part of the labor. He was nestled cozily in our sling as I allowed the oil to draw me into the memory, through the birth, into him. When I moved out of the meditation, I was aware of a change – my son, with whom I had felt no symbiosis just moments before, was now enmeshed in my aura, an extension of myself, just as my daughter had been at that age. The change was immediate; by the end of the week, I felt his wakings from naps in my heart, even from another room; our nursing relationship improved; he stopped demanding food; we were both happier and more relaxed. My relationship with my daughter improved, too, and I realized I had pulled away from her because of the guilt over not bonding with my son as I felt I ought.
I guess my message is that bonding is not always what we expect it to be; even with attachment parenting there can be a hiccup or even a grand delay in this process, but don’t lose hope. Seven months is a long time, but now, just a month later, I feel we’ve gotten it back already. ~ Kristi Hayes
I became a mother at the young age of 20 years old. At the time I had never heard of attachment parenting. It was something I did instinctivly. (Which always amuses me when people try to tell me attachment parenting is "unnatural") All I knew was the intense love I had for my newborn child. He went everywhere with me. If I wanted to take a relaxing bath, there he would be in his little seat on the bathroom floor and I would chat away to him while I soaked in the tub. If I went for a walk he would be nuzzled up under my chin in his little carrier. While the other mothers kept their babies in carseats or in the nursery in church, I held mine in my arms. Even now, at 19 months old, though he now has his own big boy bed, there are nights he climbs up into his parent's bed and sleeps. He knows he is welcome there.
The irony of it all is being a woman, I was not so sure about having a boy. I worried the bond between us would not be as strong as it could be if I had a daughter. But this intense one on one contact and calm love has built a bond so strong that it can never be broken. I have learned the best way to parent is to do what your heart tells you to do. Yes, the books and the other mothers in your life may have good advice. But take it to you like water off a duck. Follow your instincts. Our babies do not need the most trendy clothes and the swings that play music and vibrate. We do not have children to make them be silent and never be near us. They our gifts from God. They are the greatest glory. Hold them close, love them always. And they will always remember you. I do not want my son to say at my funeral that he recalls the money I spent on him or anything like that. I want him to look back and say "I remember LOVE".
This is a poem that I wrote after the homebirth of my son, Zane Adam. Following a horrendous hospital birth of my daughter, Zoe Ryan, which ended with a cesarean section, I knew a gentle birth at home was what I needed to heal myself and to teach my daughter about the mystery and power of women and childbirth. Maybe my experience and this poem can inspire other women and mothers.
the story of a VBAC homebirth
a chilly night
that's exactly right
early morning quiet
that's exactly right
surges slowing
that's exactly right
letting go that's exactly right
~ Allyson Poole-Foster
My son and I are an attached couple. It all started 5 years
ago when my husband and I found out we could not have
children. As the years passed we decided to adopt. All the
people I knew were mainstream parents, and I had the same
views; that is until Justin came into my life. Justin was born
6 weeks early and stayed in the hospital for three weeks. The
hospital would not let me breastfeed because I was not the
natural mother, but in my mind I was. Justin and I had an
instant connection. When we returned home everything I
thought I knew about being a "good" mom just did not feel
right, so I started to breastfeed, and Justin came to sleep
with me and my husband. The relationship I share with my son
is so beautiful and wonderful, I can't help but wonder if
the dynamics of this relationship would be the same if we
were not attached as we are. ~ Jill Jutila
I was a first-time mom overcoming a the trials of being a sexually abused child. I was bound with the spirit to know that my child would never know that kind of pain, and understand that his mother would always be there for him with open arms to comfort him and love no matter when he needs. My path to parenting would be greatly different than I had received. The moment I found out I was expecting I knew that I would breastfeed my baby and that he would share a bed with me until we both are comfortable and stable enough to separate from one another. My son and I slept side by side nursing to sleep every evening until he was 18 months old, when he broke his mother's heart and decided he didn't need to nurse any longer. We still spend most nights together in the same bed and enjoy our snuggle time as a family. He is becoming a big boy and starting to enjoy his own bed on occasion as he his approaching 2 years. He has been showing his independence and my heart is not heavy this time as I know that he is growing up strong because of the bond that we developed from day one.This style of parenting will be continued with any other children I have and they will always be welcome at their mommy's breast or mommy's bed side. ~ Ann Denner
My story is that of an attached child. Having been born in 1974 there were no "terms" for sleeping with your child or putting your needs after the needs of your child; what we know fondly call attachment parenting, and to breastfeed period, let alone nurse a toddler, was considered nothing short of disgusting and negligent of nutritional needs but my mother, a young girl of 18, already 'tarnished' for having committed the 'ultimate sin' of carrying a baby out of 'wedlock' knew right from wrong more clearly that the adults who tried to dictate how I should be cared for and raised. Thank God for my mother's sense of self. We shared a breastfeeding relationship until I was well beyond toddlerhood and continue to co-sleep even now when I am home for a visit, but instead of us two snuggled it is us four. My mom and me, my four year old nursing sister and my three year old nursing daughter. I never had to even ponder how I would parent my child when I was pregnant, my path to parenthood had been well modeled. It wasn't even a matter of "of course I will attachment parent" it was an unspoken truth known to me cellularly that the best way to parent is to snuggle, and listen and nurture. I am the mother I am today because I was mothered the way all babies should be fortunate enough to be mothered. I am a first generation attached child, and my mother and I are as attached today as ever. We now even have the fortune to even be able to parent together. I am raising a second generation attached child and get to see on a daily basis the fruition of the seeds my mom sewed twenty-seven years ago when I watch my daughter nurture her peers and sooth the child on the playground who's caregiver believes that a cry is only for attention. I know that I am raising a confident child that will someday nurture a third generation attached baby and that the links in this chain will continue on thanks to my mother. *When you are faced with family and friends that question your parenting please keep in mind that you have made the right choice, I speak from experience as the attachment child, I can honestly say that I would not have wanted to have been parented any other way*
My stepdaughter, 11, lives with us, and has had her very first experience with attachment parenting, family bed, and breastfeeding. And what happened tonight reinforces my convictions that there is no other way to raise a baby. I laid Riley down to sleep in our bed, and went downstairs to finish cooking dinner with my husband. He was whimpering a bit, but was on his way to sleep. I could hear him, and was giving the pasta one last stir before heading up to see what he needed (we don't believe in the cry it out--if he's crying, he needs us). I stopped, however, when I heard Ashlon on the monitor, talking to her little brother, comforting him, as she learned to do from us. "It's ok," she crooned, "I'll sit with you. Mommy will be right up, but I'll hold you." And she laid down in bed with him and stroked his head to calm him down. She had learned, by example, that babies needs should be responded to immediately, and she understood the gentle love that calms her brother. I will always remember that the way I parent my children is an example to others to respond actively to children, to embrace them at every opportunity, and to place their needs even ahead of your own.
~ Nicole Merson
~ Raina Frazier
I always knew I wanted children and to breastfeed, but
never knew about AP. It just came natural after he
was born in 1996 and couldn't have imagined doing it
any other way.
In 1999, I separated from my husband. He had a mental
illness and was not taking care of his illness. I had
to put my son's wellbeing and safety first. In
January of 2000, my husband took his life. There are
NO WORDS that prepare you for the intense trauma,
grief and loss that you experience. Luckily, my dear
son (who was 3 at the time) and I had such a
foundation of attachment parenting ( through
co-sleeping, extended bf, etc.) that we could talk
about it, openly and honestly. When I would cry, he
would bring me tissues and give me hugs. We respected
each others feelings and have grieved together. As a
result, my son is so compassionate and sensitive to
other children and their feelings, especially when it
comes to the loss of a loved one. When a little boy
at his school last year, lost his grandmother, my son
(saying no words) just came up to him and gave him a
big hug. That touch and love said it all. I feel
fortunate that I had the tools to parent a grieving
child through attachment parenting.
In the wake of this trauma that the US is
experiencing, please be gentle with yourself and your
children. Peace.
~ Lisa Gainey
Over the next four years we went from doctor to
doctor, seeking answers. None were to be found even
after scores of humiliating tests. Month after month
found me falling deeper and deeper into depression as
I once again got my period, the bloody reminder that I
was not pregnant again. Three intrauterine
inseminations did not work so I transfered my anger to
my hapless husband. All this time I sought God, read
scripture about being fruitful and wondered why I was
being passed over. After all, I just wanted to be a
mother...
Lo and behold, I found myself pregnant in January,
1999. We were excited but no longer under the
illusion that loss happens to "other people." Again,
the nagging started and didn't let up until we heard
the heartbeat at 13 weeks. Imagine my profound horror
to find myself miscarrying again on Easter morning.
As the perfect little body slipped into my hand that
morning I thought my world had ended. God's Son arose
on Easter and mine was being sent to a medical lab to
be autopsied.
My depression that summer got so bad I submitted to
taking antidepressants. They didn't take away the
sadness...they just made me not care. I didn't care
what happened around me I was so caught up in anger
and hatred. In church one July night though the
pastor said there was someone there that needed to ask
for forgiveness and though I knew he was talking to
me, I didn't go forward. I waited until the following
Sunday before admitting I was in need of prayer.
Following several intense hours of prayer, I went home
and phoned my sister who had two beautiful children.
I apologized for every nasty thing I had said to her
and asked her to forgive me for despising her live
boys. To her credit she did.
This is why I believe that the baby I conceived within
days of that call was a direct result of letting go of
my bitterness. This pregnancy was highly monitored
and highly medicated but also covered in prayer. On
April 25, 2000, I became the mother of David Mark, who
weighed in at a whopping 9#, 4.4oz. We have been a
nursing pair ever since and I can truly say, he has
been a blessing. My life is complete.
~ Kimberly McJunkin
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