Parenting
By: Sarah Whitman
Updated: April 11, 2019
Originally Published: April 10, 2019
Even though I resist labeling myself as a specific type of parent, others might classify me as someone who practices attachment parenting principles.
As a researcher by nature—perhaps to a fault—I often find myself diving deep into the internet whenever curiosity strikes. This habit kept me occupied during my pregnancy, as I explored the ins and outs of transitioning from a childless adult to a parent. With my first child on the way and minimal prior experience with babies, I was essentially starting from scratch in terms of baby care knowledge.
I had never been a nanny, nor did I have close friends with babies that I had spent significant time with. Consequently, I was truly unprepared.
Listening to parenting podcasts, joining online forums, and following parenting media, I quickly realized I was facing a myriad of decisions. Topics like breastfeeding, vaccinations, and sleep training sparked intense debates. What one parent viewed as a non-negotiable choice could seem utterly ridiculous to another. I discovered that everyone had an opinion, and those opinions often contradicted one another.
For someone who craved concrete answers, this was maddening. How was I supposed to decide on my baby’s wake times when half the internet warned me that an extra minute of wakefulness could lead to catastrophe, while the other half insisted that every child is unique and I should just follow their cues?
With each issue I researched, I often surfaced with more questions than answers. I wasn’t particularly passionate about any specific parenting method; I figured I would take a laid-back approach—meet my baby, and let him guide me.
However, one topic eventually became clear: sleep training. After much consideration, I decided it wasn’t for me. I commend those who choose this route; I simply knew I didn’t have the heart to endure hours of crying.
In those initial six months, my husband and I rocked our son to sleep. If he seemed tired and didn’t doze off on his own, I would take him to his room for a rocking session. Sometimes, this would entail walking around the house in a way that mimicked a bumpy ride, which he seemed to love.
The process could be quick, but other times I would find myself rocking him for an hour, utterly drained, yet determined to help him sleep. One particular night, I took him to bed but couldn’t find his pacifier. He was already dressed for sleep in his dimly lit room, and I hesitated to disrupt his environment just to look for it. Instead, I laid him in his crib for a few moments.
He began to cry. I didn’t time it, but I estimated it was about five to ten minutes before I found his pacifier and returned to his room—only to find him peacefully asleep.
This was a revelation. While he had cried himself to sleep, I realized he had always done so; it just typically occurred while I held him. My son doesn’t cry often, and I consider myself fortunate that his cries are mainly reserved for when he’s tired. I hadn’t noticed that he often cried while drifting off in my arms. It wasn’t until I set him down for a moment and heard him cry, then fell asleep more quickly than during our lengthy rocking sessions, that I recognized a pattern.
This experience encouraged me to try a new approach—allowing him to self-soothe, even if it meant letting him cry. I established parameters for how long I would allow him to cry and when I would step in if his cries escalated too much.
In the days that followed, I would place him in his crib, and he typically cried for 10-15 minutes before falling asleep. Surprisingly, he was falling asleep more quickly and crying less without my rocking. In fact, when I intervened during his longer cries, my presence seemed to agitate him further, making it harder for him to settle down.
My intention in sharing this isn’t to advocate for or against sleep training. I understand it’s a choice every parent must navigate, and we all make decisions that feel right for our families at any given moment.
Initially, I relied on my internet research to decide how to soothe my baby to sleep, thinking I had all the right answers. What I ultimately learned is that the internet doesn’t know my child. I needed to observe and listen to him; every baby is unique with their own needs. Trusting my parental instincts allowed me to understand what my son required, a lesson the internet could never provide.
This article was originally published on April 10, 2019.
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Summary:
As parents, we often turn to the internet for guidance, but personal experience and intuition can reveal truths that research cannot. This article reflects on the journey of learning to read a child’s unique needs, specifically regarding sleep habits, which can sometimes contradict common advice. Ultimately, every parent must trust their instincts and adapt to their child’s individuality, as each child brings a unique set of needs that cannot be encapsulated by general parenting advice.