Why My Son Doesn't Cry

My lovable, not so little, 8 month old baby boy, George, was a champ of a sleeper for about 5 months of his life. He was born and very quickly fell into the routine of sleeping from about 8:30-9 until 4:30, when he would wake up for a bite to eat. He'd then sleep on until about 7:30 or sometimes 9. What a blessed few months we lived!

Then I felt the urge to take him to Idaho to meet my family. That is where it all began. Due to some missed naps, times changes, and very late nights George's lovely sleep habits have turned into... not so lovely habits. Add to that a cold, and teething. (He has six teeth by the way! Crazy boy!) I won't go into intense details, let's just say that I feel like I was married to sleep, and we have separated.

This is not meant to elicit pity, though, if you want to come babysit for an hour so I can nap, I might let you. I really wanted to write about this phenomenon of people who keep insisting that my son will never learn how to sleep unless I stop letting him manipulate me, and make him cry himself to sleep. No matter how many times I hear it, I just can't.

Before I go any further I would like to say that I know good parents who let their children "cry it out". Their kids are fine. This seems such a controversial subject I just want to acknowledge that. If you're reading this and you find yourself in that category, a parent who lets their child cry, I am not judging you as an unfit parent. Don't be offended by what I have written here. I would simply like to give voice to the reason I choose not follow this route.

My whole stance on this subject really begins and ends with the fact that when my son cries, I feel this inner urge to go to him -- to be with him, and to comfort him. I have heard the differences in his cries when he is frightened, or angry, or uncomfortable, and I know them. When I have considered letting George cry himself to sleep it has come into my mind over and over again that I would have to by pass that fundamental need that I have to take care of him. For me, I'm just not comfortable doing that.

My son is one of the most sacred blessings I have ever been given, and I love him so much. Nevertheless I cannot deny in the course of parenting there are hard choices I have been forced to make. And it cannot be denied that at one point or another some of those choices have invariably caused George some form of discomfort. (The thought of one of those nasal syringes comes to mind...) As I lay with my son at night, groggy, sometimes a little frustrated, but mostly just groggy, I am still filled with that sweet awe that he is alive, and that I helped make him so. Do I think that he is capable of manipulating me? No. Do I think he has learned that when he is uncomfortable, frightened, or just unable to sleep, if he cries I will come to him? Absolutely. Do I really mind that he depends on me? Not on you life! I'm the mom, he is the baby. It is my job to give of myself for him. This time of sleepless nights will not be forever. Neither will his childhood.

So we're up in the night. For now I'll just be sleepy, and deliriously happy.

Wet Fever Heals

My first motherly experience with fever was with 5-month-old Sammy.  He had a cold at the time and had a fever around 102º.  We were scared.  We desperately wanted to ease his suffering and restore his stable temperature.  A good friend (also an ER physician) told us to give him Tylenol and checked his little book for the correct dosage.  We followed his recommendation, and sure enough, the fever came right down.  His temperature spiked three days in a row, but each time we gave him Tylenol and felt great relief that he was himself again.

In the three years since that first fever, my convictions regarding natural healing have deepened, though in my mind, a high fever was still to be avoided at all costs.  Fever = worry, suffering, discomfort, infection, seizure, brain damage.  Bad.  

Last June, I had the luck to attend a brief class with a Master Herbalist.  During the class, my husband asked if she had any recommendations for bringing down a fever naturally.  Expecting some herbal spectacular, we were surprised when all she said was, "If you give the child plenty of fluids and put him in a warm bath, that fever will break."  We approached her afterward to talk about it, and she told us without hesitation:

Wet Fever Heals

Dry Fever Kills

According to her, it's not necessary to bring the fever down at all!  When treated properly, she said a fever is not dangerous.  On the contrary, it is healing.  Another mother in earshot of the conversation told us she never even takes temperatures, that this fluid thing really works.

I had a chance to ruminate over this for several months before being faced with a trial run.  A few weeks ago, in the midst of a horrible bout of teething, 11-month-old Daniel came down with a fever, hotter than your typical teething fever.  I really wanted to know if this woman was right, but was worried about trying it out on my sweet little sufferer.  

I looked up Fever in my bible of healing, Smart Medicine for a Healthier Child, and read some reassuring words:

Since viruses and bacteria do not survive as well in a body with an elevated temperature, fever is actually an ally in fighting infection. It is one of the ways in which the body defends and heals itself. An elevated temperature also increases the production of infection-fighting white blood cells and even increases their speed of response and enhances their killing capacity.

The authors add, "To prevent dehydration, encourage a feverish child to drink plenty of fluids.  The increased metabolic rate that results from a fever causes the body to lose fluids rapidly."  They also recommend letting the child soak in a tepid herbal bath.  Armed with this second witness, I was ready to try out the maxim.

I would never have thought that a fever would turn into a spiritual experience for me, full of believing, trusting, hoping, and praying.  Because of our diet and lifestyle, I believe Daniel's immune system to be very strong.  My boys rarely get sick.  Throughout the experience, I felt convinced that if left alone, Daniel could beat the ailment and would grow stronger as a result.  And he did.

While he was feverish, I kept Daniel with me almost constantly: he napped in his carrier and slept by me at night.  I kept the fever wet by giving him plenty of fluids and bath time.  Aside from swollen lymph nodes behind his ears (also a sign of infection), he had no other symptoms.  Just in case, I took an overabundance of natural antibacterial and antiviral remedies, hoping he might benefit from them through my milk.  I was tempted at least once to give in to Tylenol, but signs of progress helped me resist.  At times hotter than others, his body maintained the fever for a couple long days.  Then it was gone.

Through this, I learned to give the body a chance!  There might be a time when I'll resort to Tylenol again, but it will be harder now.  I am happy to have confirmed that "wet fever heals."

Journaling

I was asked if I would do a post about what works for record keeping in my family.  I have a bad memory, so I have a fear of forgetting my life as it floats by.  It is also disappointing to think that my children (ages 1 and 3) are going to remember almost nothing of the grand adventures we have together.  As a result, I write.  There are a few places I record things:

Source

• We keep a little colorful journal in the living area of our house where we write funny things the boys (husband included) say.  This week's favorite: "Daddy-o, you are a human.  I am a human.  Mommy-o is a humlady."
• Each of my boys has a journal.  They start out with an entry telling about why we chose to name them what we did.  We recorded their baby blessings, and little early milestones, "You got your first tooth today!" etc.  As convenient, we also ask grandparents and aunts and uncles if they would like to write anything to the boys in their journals.  Abe (3) is also getting old enough to dictate entries, while Ben (1) is just learning to draw, so we've captured a few early pictures in his journal.  I don't try to keep these journals updated on a schedule, just whenever I have a moment to sit down for a minute to express a love for them I'll whip out the journal.
• We also keep a family journal.  If I were to drop all of my other journals, this would be the one I would keep.  Every Sunday evening everyone in the family gets a blank page to write (or draw) about the week.  I slip each entry into a page protector and into a three ring binder!  Easy as pie!  (Thanks Amy and Erin for the idea!)
• I keep my own handwritten journal.  Andrew and I have this conversation all the time, but I think that writing something out is more permanent than typing.  Whether it is or not, you engage different parts of your brain when you're writing, and it helps you to remember more.  Personally, it's a more complete "decompression" of the day if I can do it longhand and away from a computer.
• I also have a "computer journal" where I drag and paste emails and blog entries that I think are journal worthy.

Source

My three words of advice are:

1. Find a medium you like that works for you.  If you haven't filled up your last journal, but you don't like writing in it for whatever reason, it's okay to start something new.
2. Schedule it in.  Sunday after dinner, we know it's family journal time.
3. Squeeze it in.  If you're on the go a lot, get some of those little moleskine journals and keep one in your purse.  Keep them where you decompress, by your bed, couch or chocolate stash.   

Source

The Power of Listening and Listening

Have you ever been in a situation like this: You walk into a grocery store to see a parent "disciplining" their child, not so quietly. Perhaps the child has repeatedly asked for something that is not on the shopping list, or maybe the child is pestering a sibling. Whatever the reason, mom or dad has had it and loudly lets the child have it.

How about this one: You are at a laundry mat waiting for your clothes when you hear one spouse picking at his wife, or her husband... or both spouses picking at each other. Unkind words just flow.

I spend a lot of time in our local grocery stores, and our local laundry mat. You might say I have an addiction to both -- one by choice, the other necessity. Wherever I am it never ceases to amaze me the slew of unkind things I hear escape peoples mouths, directed toward their family members.

I was 25 when I got married, 4 years (or more), older than all of my friends, and many many acquaintances. This gave me a few years to see some different dynamics -- there are many! It also gave me a few years to think to myself, (and I'm sure I still do, often), "Wow, I would never speak to my husband like that!" Or, "I would never want my kids to hear me talk to their father that way...." Or maybe, "You know, maybe your child picked up that behavior from someone close to them... you?" (In my mind it never really sounds like this, it's more like, "Oh dear!" or, "That's so sad!")

I know, isn't that awful? I point my finger at so many people out there when I am so imperfect at this myself. I was a preschool teacher, and also worked for a stint with troubled jr. high students... Oh yeah, and I'm a sister, a daughter, and a wife... Ok, ok, I'm a member of the human race! I am very guilty of treating people with less dignity than they deserve. Sometimes, as a human, things just exit my mouth. But whether an opinion that just couldn't stay put, or some snappish comment, I want to be better.



And so, this past week has been a week of introspection for me. I think the two biggest ways I have found to do better is 1. pray in the morning to feel the love of Christ, and 2. really listen to what others are saying to me. When I really dig deep and stop to hear what my husband is saying, or a sibling, or my dad, that gives me time to... control myself? When I allow it, in that time I feel the spirit whisper to me that there is a better way, and that, for the most part, my agenda is not as important as this other persons feelings. If what needs to be said is important a better way has always been opened up to me.