My gut

It’s been an interesting few weeks for me, both professionally and as a mom.  My new career has really started to blossom.  I had feared that when I left my public school teaching job that professional opportunities would be hard to come by, but in the past few weeks, I’ve sung a paid gig (my first in years), presented at a conference, and filled my voice studio.  I’ve started preparing next semester’s program for Chorale, and put together programs for two All County festivals that I’m guest conducting early next year.  While there is not the same certainty that I had in my job where I was tenured and had seniority, there is a whole new sense of possibility that I haven’t felt in many years.  I had thought that my successes as a musician and educator were tied to me being attached to my former job, that it was my home base.  The past few months have helped me to realize that I am my home base.  I am ambitious and a hard worker, and with determination, support, and some luck, can steer my own course.  It’s a powerful and wonderful discovery, one that I never would have realized if I hadn’t followed my gut and decided to stay home with Ellie.

I’ve been examining my beliefs and actions as a parent lately (though aren’t we always as parents?), as I try to decide what I really feel about topics like sleep, weaning, and discipline.  I have always had a hard time trusting my feelings; I tend to be influenced by what others tell me is right or wrong, and that makes me doubt myself as a mother.  I’m trying to listen to my gut as it sifts through conflicting information and feelings.

As far as sleep goes, I’ve had a hard time swallowing that I need to teach Ellie to sleep, even if that means a lot of tears (for both of us).  While that works for many parents, it just doesn’t feel right for me.  I’ve been made to fear (from the many books I’ve read and talking to other parents) that my daughter will have terrible sleep habits if I nurse, rock, or cuddle her to sleep.  I’ve read and heard (in so many words) that this is irresponsible parenting on my part, that I need to teach her to be independent.  And when I hear these words, my initial reaction is, “Oh God.  What have I done?  I’m totally fucking her up.”  But when I try to put this advice into practice, I’m a miserable failure, and it’s because it just isn’t me.  When I’m thinking about it when I’m not emotional, I realize that I never taught my daughter to be independent in any other way.  Her natural sense of curiosity, as well as feeling cared for and safe has led her to explore all sorts of new things on her own.  The phrase she utters most these days is “I do it all by myself”.  The activities to which this applies ranges from putting on her own shoes, to walking through the supermarket instead of sitting in a shopping cart, to climbing and buckling herself into her own booster seat, to learning her letters and numbers.  All of these things happened because she feels curious and safe enough to try new things, and persevere even when she doesn’t initially get them.  Why should sleep be any different?  When I allow myself to  trust myself and parent in a way that feels right to me, I have a positive experience with my daughter, and this holds true for the issue of sleep as well.

Now for weaning….we live in a society that has made nursing a toddler something to feel embarrassed and secretive about.  I had never expected to nurse this long; I had always aimed for nursing for a year, since that’s what the convention was.  I didn’t think beyond it, and I certainly never anticipated nursing a toddler who had enough verbal skills to call it by name.  (Future mothers, a piece of advice:  from the beginning, refer your boobs something other than “booby”.  It’s hard to get around your 18-month old gleefully shouting “Booby!” in Target without feeling mortified.)  I found that when Ellie turned a year, I didn’t feel any less inclined to nurse at 12 months and 1 day than I did at 11 months and 31 days.  And so Operation Booby continued, and has to the present day.  I don’t usually talk about it with anyone, and if I do, it’s kind of in a sheepish way, like “I can’t believe I’m still doing this.”  Which is true- I honestly thought she would self-wean months ago.  And so I find myself wondering: to wean or not to wean?  I’m kind of ambivalent about it; I hate to take away something that is a source of emotional comfort for her, but I also wouldn’t mind stopping soon.  I am taking the approach of gently encouraging/distracting her, which seems to be doing the trick.  The one thing that I wish is that I were able to make this decision without the feelings of judgment and shame that I’ve been made to feel.

Finally, discipline.  The so called “terrible twos” haven’t been too terrible thus far, though we’ve had our episodes of lying on the floor of Target when it’s time to leave and she’s not ready (I call her Gandhi in those moments, and she glares at me with this “Fuck you, smartass” look that I can only attribute to her being my offspring.)  It’s an awesome age, but definitely a volatile one.  I’ve found the book “Between Parent and Child” by Haim Ginott to be incredibly helpful.  The premise of the book is that when children feel like they are being heard and understood without fear of judgment, the “behavior problem” will tend to dissipate.  Now I know that this sounds like total new-age bullshit, but it actually works.  I’ll give you an example: tonight Ellie wanted to keep doing a jigsaw puzzle, but it was time for her bath.  When I said, “Ellie, it’s time for your bath”, she pulled a Gandhi.  I picked her up, and said, “You wish you could keep doing your puzzle, I know.”  She said, “Yes.”  Then I said, “I know you would like to do your puzzle, but it’s time for a bath.  Let’s go to the bath, and I’ll tell you stories in the tub.”  She said, “Mommy tell you a story.”  End of potential tantrum.  I think it’s because she felt understood, and like I respected her feelings.  I think that’s what we all want at the end of the day, to feel heard and understood.  Now, over the course of 24 hours, there are times that I get impatient, but generally, I feel like talking to my two year old like she’s a person whose emotions are to be respected feels really good, and makes me feel really connected to her.

The greatest lesson that being Ellie’s mother has taught me is that feelings (including mine) are worth listening to, are valid, and shouldn’t be categorized as “good” or “bad”, “right” or “wrong”.  I struggle with giving myself the luxury of simply feeling my feelings, and not trying to talk myself out of them, as I’ve spent much of my life doing for the sake of expediency and keeping the peace.  But I want my daughter to grow up feeling strong in her convictions, and if children learn what they live, then I’ve got to model trusting my gut, for both our sake.

Advertisement