What Your Child’s Lovie Says about Your Attachment

June 9, 2009 The Attached Family Leave a comment

By Rita Brhel, managing editor and attachment parenting resource leader (API)

API's stance on lovies I don’t encourage the use of lovies – blankets, teddy bears, or other objects children can develop an attachment to – in my household but I don’t discourage it, either.

My three year old had earlier attachments to a teddy bear that had to be replaced once, and then we lost the bear somewhere, and for a long time, she didn’t have a lovie. But she also seemed to have more trouble sleeping, even sharing the family bed, so when she wanted to adopt a stuffed toy horse, I let her. Even snuggled up to me in my bed, she has to have her horsey. She also takes her horsey with her in the car most of the time, and when she can’t take it with her — let’s say, out to the garden — she asks me to hold it until she comes back.

Personally, I think her lovie is less for security and more because she’s watched me carry around her little sister the past year and a half. But, even if it is for security, I don’t feel threatened by it. I may not understand why she needs the security of a stuffed toy when we have a very secure relationship, but I would rather fill this need than not.

My 20 month old also has a lovie – her water bottle. Here is another situation that I feel neither threatened by nor any need to “wean” or “break” her of. Around the world, toddlers nurse themselves to sleep or in times of discomfort. My baby prefers to carry her bottle around – always with water – and when she does need to suck, she often wants to do so while sitting on my lap or lying down in bed beside me.

Discussion Continues on What the Use of Lovies Signals in a Parent-Child Relationship

On the API Forum, you can see other attached parents’ views of lovies in such threads as “Blankie or Teddie?” There are some parents who clearly see the attachment between a child and a lovie as a sign that the parent-child attachment is not strong, while other parents don’t see the same threat. Attachment Parenting International advises that parents honor this need in their children should they seem to want to sleep with or carry around a blankie, teddy, or other object. The exception would be if a child is likely to turn to food for comfort, which can set up an unhealthy association between food and comfort.

Weaning children off of pacifiers and bottles can be done similar to weaning a child off the breast – many attached parents let their children self-wean, while others may gently encourage that their children let go. One reader who commented on an API Speaks blog post, “Gently Weaning from the Pacifier,” explains how she poked a tiny hole in her daughter’s pacifier which made it less appealing to suck, and another parent explained to her daughter how the pacifier was broken.

Examine Your Perspective of the Lovie

So, what does your child’s lovie say about your attachment with her? This is still up for discussion and probably has something to do with how you view the lovie. If a parent encourages a lovie because he doesn’t want to focus on forming a strong attachment with his child, this isn’t appropriate. But if a parent honors his children’s need for a lovie while trying to continue strengthening the parent-child attachment — even in instances where he doesn’t understand this need — this would be following the API Principle of Responding with Sensitivity.

API’s Stance on Lovies

Q: What does API think of families using lovies?

A: Certainly we need to stress that a parent or other attached caregiver would be the best lovie a child could have. There is no substitute for the warm, loving arms of a caregiver and the security that they provide for the child. However, we realize that sometimes a lovie (such as a stuffed animal or blanket) can be an appropriate tool, and as long as it is not overused, it can be comforting to some children. Some high-needs children require almost constant contact with a parent or caregiver. Sometimes this level of contact is not possible, especially in a household with multiple children. For instance, if you need to lay the baby down to take a nap, but the baby wants you to lie with him or her and you are not able to, a lovie might be an acceptable fill-in. If the lovie carries the scent of the primary caregiver, it can be that much more soothing to the child. Additionally, for a child who is in a daycare, a lovie can be a comfort from home.

Introducing a lovie to a young infant could be as simple as tucking it into the sling with her while you carry her, or tucking it in with her as she sleeps contentedly in bed (with or without you). This should set up the lovie-sleep association. For an older toddler, introducing a lovie could be a bit more challenging since he will be more resistant to the caregiver substitute. Showing interest in it yourself may be enough to spark some curiosity for your child. Some children might enjoy being surprised with one, while others may prefer going to pick one out.

The most important thing to keep in mind is that the lovie should be associated with positivity to the child. Putting a child in a room to cry it out with a lovie sets up a negative association and is unfair to the child. Try to be understanding in the process of introducing a lovie, and realize that it may take time and gentle persistence for your child to accept one.

From the Frequently Asked Questions for the API Principle of Responding with Sensitivity on the API website

1. Pregnancy & Birth, The Editor's Desk, Your Birth Stories

Heal Thyself through Birth Storytelling

June 2, 2009 The Attached Family 4 Comments

By Rita Brhel, managing editor and attachment parenting resource leader (API)

Healing through our birth stories In preparing the Spring 2009 issue of The Attached Family, I asked a number of women to tell their birth stories who were too uncomfortable in doing so. They were still working through emotions of disappointment, fear, and sometimes guilt surrounding their baby’s birth – even years afterward.

It is obvious that emotional healing is a process, similar in many ways to grieving over the death of a loved one. In fact, the emotional healing process after a traumatic birth is a type of grief: You are grieving over a loss – having to settle for a labor and/or childbirth that may be very different than you imagined it, the loss of your expected recovery or early attachment period with your baby, even the loss of a healthy baby. For some women, the loss may not be so obvious – perhaps you didn’t get to hold your baby after your birth, or you had an I.V. or catheter or couldn’t walk around during your labor as much as you wanted to. Not all losses have to be catastrophic or major to cause a feeling of grief.

“Shock is a normal psychological and physiological response to an unknown, intense or perceived biologically-threatening situation,” according to Pam England, author of Birthing from Within, in her article, “Birth Shock,” on BirthingFromWithin.com. “Labor, even normal labor, qualifies for all of those categories. So birth shock is a completely normal response to either normal or complicated births and postpartum; it occurs in home births and hospitals births.”

Dr. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross was a doctor who spent time studying the emotions patients in Swiss hospitals go through when they learn they have a terminal illness. She wrote On Death and Dying in 1969, where she identified seven stages of grief people typically go through as they work through the emotional impact of the loss of their dreams for their life. Commonly referred to as the Grief Cycle, these stages are common with all forms of loss – such as the loss of a job or pet, and theoretically could be applied to the emotions surrounding a disappointing birth experience.

“Grief is a process of physical, emotional, social, and cognitive reactions to loss,” according to Lori Godin, a licensed marriage and family therapist in San Jose, California (ModernLife.org). “The grieving process is often a hard one to work through. It requires patience with ourselves and with other. Although responses to loss are as diverse as the people experiencing it, patterns or stages that are commonly experienced have emerged.”

The Grief Cycle

The Grief Cycle is often condensed to five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The original Grief Cycle created by Kübler-Ross includes actually seven stages, which are outlined on ChangingMinds.org:

Shock – Symptoms: At first, the person may appear to have no reaction at all, or may nod and appear to accept the news without being troubled by it. The person may need to be told several times before they understand it, which is indicative by a physical reaction such as paling of the skin, shortness of breath, and physical freezing. Treatment: The person should be sat down and given something to hold onto. Show them sympathy and acceptance. Prevention: While there is no prevention of the Grief Cycle, the reactions of the Shock Stage may be lessened some by telling the person the news in a private, safe place with the company of trusted friends or family.
Denial – Symptoms: The person pretends that nothing has happened, including denying any evidence that would prove the news to be real. Treatment: Show sympathy by letting the person know that you, too, find it unfair. This will help the person feel safe to become angry about the situation, which opens up their ability to deal with their emotions.
Anger – Symptoms: The person may swing suddenly and explosively into anger, as she asks “why me?” She may freely blame people, places, and events – anything that may have been involved in the situation. Treatment: Allow them to feel angry and don’t deny their feelings, much as attachment parents do with their toddlers’ tantrums. However, should the anger become destructive, remind the person of appropriate and inappropriate behavior and help her to reframe her anger into useful channels such as problem areas, tasks, hobbies, and other ways to move forward. Prevention: Again, while the Anger Stage cannot be prevented and is essential to move through the Grief Cycle, you should be aware of your reactions when faced with another person’s anger. Do not turn it into an argument, as this could push the person back into denial or cause future problems. Support and accept their anger, and let them be angry at you, especially if the person’s “why me?” turns into “why not you?”
Bargaining – Symptoms: The person feels hopeful that the situation is reversible. She seeks in vain for ways to avoid the situation. Treatment: While you can help the person seek out practical alternatives, do not offer the person any false hope. Offer new opportunities for personal growth.
Depression – Symptoms: The person finally feels the inevitability of the situation and reluctantly accepts it. This can be a deep depression full of despair and hopelessness. Depression can present in many ways, from tearfulness to sleeping all the time to loss of joy in hobbies. As they turn into themselves, they turn away from any possible solution or person who can help them. Treatment: Show sympathy and acceptance. Your presence, while it may not be acknowledged, can be comforting to the person. Professional counseling may be needed to help the person recognize their depression and then find a way out of depression.
Testing – Symptoms: The person begins to experiment with activities to find ways out of the depression. Treatment: The support of friends, family, and sometimes professional counselors can help tremendously during this stage. Give the person as much control over the situation as possible, as you help them try different solutions.
Acceptance – Symptoms: The person feels ready and actively involved in moving on with her life. The person takes ownership for their actions and emotions. They start doing things and taking note of the results, and then changing their actions in response. They appear increasingly happier and more content. Treatment: Help the person to establish themselves in their new position on life. Congratulate them on getting through the emotional healing process, and celebrate the transition of their transition.

“Knowing these stages can sometimes help in coping with the process of grief and recognizing that there is a light at the end of the tunnel,” Godlin continues. “It should be noted that although most people experience all of the following stages, they do not experience them with the same duration or in the same order or with the same intensity. It is a very unique process.”

The Grief Cycle in a Birth Story

For this exercise, I am referring to my daughter’s birth story, “The Story of Rachel,” in the Birth Stories section. Try dissecting this story and see if you can identify any of the stages of the Grief Cycle.

Here’s what I came up with:

Shock – “My first thought was that I had lost the baby, but as soon as I stood up, I felt a kick. I couldn’t grasp that she was still alive when it was clear from the blood that things were not at all OK.”

Denial – “I had no idea was he was trying to tell me — I thought the drugs would work, the pregnancy would last until my baby was term, my baby wouldn’t need any sort of NICU care.”

Bargaining – “I braved each contraction, with the help of my dad and a nurse as my coaches since I had never been through childbirth classes, with the expectation that the drugs would work.”

Depression – “It was devastating to hear the doctors say there was nothing more they could do to stop labor and that my baby’s well-being was left to fate.”

Note that I did not appear to go through all the stages. As Godlin mentioned, not everyone goes through every stage of the Grief Cycle, or through in the same order. In addition, some women may grieve their births immediately, while others may wait. Some may think they have accepted the circumstances surrounding their child’s birth but then find a trigger in another’s birth story or when a close friend or sister becomes pregnant for the first time. Many women don’t grieve until they’re pregnant again, or even just considering whether or not they want more children.

What my birth story doesn’t tell you is, I didn’t feel angry until I was pregnant with my second daughter, Emily, and then especially after her Cesarean. As far as the testing and acceptance stages go, while I believe I’ve accepted the way my birth progressed with Rachel, I’m still bouncing in and out of acceptance and anger with Emily’s birth. Because the two births were only a year apart, it’s difficult to sort out exactly which emotions go with which birth and it’s very possible the two’s Grief Cycles have enmeshed with one another.

Why Birth Storytelling is Needed

Everyone’s birth story is unique unto itself, and every person sees disappointments, fear, and guilt in their own way. This is why it is sometimes difficult to find empathy or sympathy from others, and why it can be useful to use the telling and retelling of our birth story as therapy in working through the Grief Cycle. In the article, “Emotional Recovery from a Cesarean,” on Plus-Size-Pregnancy.org, we learn that many women who suffer from emotional trauma following a Cesarean birth often then feel additional isolation and hurt by friends and family who have difficulty understanding the need to mourn a birth when the baby and mother are ultimately healthy.

According to the article, some people don’t understand the scope of a Cesarean, thinking it’s more or less interchangeable with vaginal birth; others come from an age where interventions during birth, such as putting women out of consciousness or giving them massive episiotomies, were the norm. Some people may disregard a woman’s grief because they don’t want anything to overshadow their own joy of the new baby. Some people may be unable to feel empathy because they have unresolved issues from their own birth experiences, even seemingly normal ones, or because they happy with their interventions, even a Cesarean, and don’t understand why you wouldn’t feel the same way.

The article goes on to acknowledge the power of birth storytelling in emotional healing. In fact, the author, who is identified only as KMom, stresses that telling the birth story is crucial in starting the healing process: “This is one of the most difficult steps for some women, but it really is very important in getting the healing started. If you can’t name what happened to you, then you can’t fully understand it or begin to make it different next time. Name the problem, talk about what happened, then retell your story over and over and over. “

Healing Through Our Birth Stories

With the internet, it’s easier now to find ways of telling your birth story. You can share it on the API Forum, where parents are always ready to give support. You can submit your story to be included on The Attached Family online. API Leaders through your local support group, or a resource leader contact, would be happy to listen to your birth story. Some API Support Groups host special meetings specifically for women to share their birth stories. If you’d like to be more personal, write your story in a journal or on your computer where no one else can see it but yourself. Tell your story to a trusted, impartial friend or family member.

Only share what you feel like sharing, and don’t feel pressure to share all of it at once. Many women develop their stories, or parts of their stories, over time. They may remember points of their births that they hadn’t before, or are able to see it in a different perspective. You can start by writing about your pregnancy and work slowly forward in your story, or you can start at your recovery and work slowly backward. For some women, the story just falls together on its own from start to finish. For others, the story comes in little bits and may jump around.

KMom shares that it’s not enough to tell a birth story only once, that retelling it many times with different focuses is needed to be able to start processing the emotions that come with it. Lynn Madsen, author of Rebounding from Childbirth, suggests writing the birth story in two layers, resting between the layers to give time to reflect:

Write down the concrete details you can remember: who, what, where, when, the sensory details, etc.
Write down what was going on inside of you: where was your mind, were you aware of the baby, what did you say to yourself, how were you feeling, etc.

It is in this second layer of your birth story that you will begin facing and processing the disappointment, fear, guilt, and other emotions surrounding your birth experience. This is daunting work for most people, as KMom explains: “Some of the hardest work you will do is accessing your deepest feelings about your child’s birth. Often, it is very difficult to do this. People don’t like to go through pain, and facing unpleasant or difficult feelings is painful. Feelings about birth tend to be very intense, especially the deeper you go. Often they bring up life issues which can be even more intense.”

“It is completely normal to wish to avoid pain, but if you suppress your feelings and don’t really feel them fully, they become stronger. Often they will present in your life again and again, each time stronger and more insistent, and sometimes in more destructive ways. Although facing the feelings may be very difficult or feel very threatening, in the long run it is what frees you,” she continues.

Some women feel they don’t need to deal with their emotions because the experience is behind them, or because their experiences may not be as traumatic as someone else’s. But Madsen explains: “Every feeling about birth matters, no matter how long that feelings lasts, no matter how unreasonable, irrational, or out of proportion it seems. Any feeling, no matter how strong, is easier to live with once it is named. …A woman may believe she is going to die as the feeling rolls through her, but she won’t. The trick is to sit with the feeling until this intensity, this sensation of death passes, and light is perceived at the end of the tunnel.”

Telling the birth story, and working through the emotions surrounding a disappointing birth, is essential before a woman decides to have another baby. It is also important for women who are certain they are done having children, because their emotions may be clouding their judgment. Even if a woman is past her childbearing years, naming these emotions and working through them is needed for closure, or else, these emotions will return over and over again throughout their lives at different points and in different situations, until they are finally resolved in some way.

Get the Most Benefit Out of Your Birth Story

In developing your birth story, KMom gives several helpful tips to more fully understand the emotions you may be feeling:

Learn exactly what happens during the procedure you went through, whether it was a Cesarean, episiotomy, or another intervention. Search for an article on the Internet, or watch a video. Realize that you’ll likely find this distressing at first, but it really does help you to understand your emotions if you know what physically happened to you.

Request a copy of your medical records. Find out what really happened during your birth experience and the reasons for the interventions. You need to understand the complexities of what happened and if there was anything you could’ve done to prevent what happened. You may feel anger and sadness as you read through your records, especially if you find unkind remarks or misinterpretations by your provider, but you can discover a lot of the behind-the-scenes reasons for why your labor and childbirth went the direction that it did.

Listen to your partner’s view of the birth and discuss it. Your partner’s version may be different than yours, and he may be able to offer insight. Realize that he may be working through his own emotional healing process, so understand if he is reluctant or if he tells his story in a brief way that lacks a lot of emotion and details, and ask probing questions gently.

Activate your anger. Unexpressed anger can destroy a person, but expressed anger opens up the healing process. It doesn’t matter whether you feel its reasonable anger or not. Women often feel angry at their health care providers or their spouses, but they can be angry toward anyone. But many women also don’t want to acknowledge that they’re angry. A good way to vent your anger is to write a letter addressed to the person with whom you’re angry – although you won’t send it – and let your anger erupt or pour out over the page.

Express emotions through the arts. Draw, paint, sing, write a poem, create a sculpture, even out of play dough, or write a children’s story from your baby’s point of view – do whatever your creative tendency is.

Acknowledge the emotional power of anniversaries. Your baby’s conception, expected due date, birthday, and other anniversaries can be both joyful times for you as well as times that bring about hard feelings toward your birth experience. Allow yourself to grieve during these anniversaries, which paradoxically, will allow you to work through the feelings and then enjoy the celebration. Otherwise, you’ll spend the day concentrating on your grief instead.

Share your experience with others who understand. Join a support group or seek out a mentor, such as through the International Cesarean Awareness Network, ICAN-Online.org; Sidelines National High Risk Pregnancy Support Network, Sidelines.org; Birth Trauma Association, BirthTraumaAssociation.org.uk; SOLACE, SolaceForMothers.org; and Birthrites: Healing After Cesarean, Birthrites.org. Find support through the API Forum or at a local API Support Group. Talk with a trusted friend, listen to or read other women’s birth stories, or especially if your birth was traumatic, seek out professional counseling with a therapist who specializes in birth issues.

Reframe the experience to focus on the positive — and on your baby. Give yourself credit for your courage and emotional strength. Think about the positive reinforcement you would give to another woman in your situation. Focus on the aspects of your birth where you did well, and give yourself credit for being mature enough to work through your emotions and to use the experience as a time for personal growth. Remember that you made the choices you made at the time because you believed them to be the best for your baby.

Practice self forgiveness. Forgive yourself for your choices, whether it was going along with whatever the doctor said or whatever it is that is making you angry. Tell yourself that you did the best with the knowledge that you had at the time, because that is truly the best that anyone can do.

Rewrite your birth in the way you wanted it to go. This is a very effective way to heal, but should be done only after you have written the birth story as it has gone and you have learned as much as you can about how the birth really went, which means looking at your medical records. Recreate your birth story with as much or as little detail as you want. Also, some women may need to rewrite their birth story over and over in order to feel a complete emotional release.

Tell your birth story to your child. When you’re ready, hold your child while he is asleep and whisper to him first your birth story and then your recreated birth story, what you wished had been different. Some women feel more comfortable practicing this exercise first without their child present, or by holding their child’s favorite toy, to first release strong emotions like sorrow and rage. This is especially true if there is any anger felt toward the child.

Create ceremonies. Some women gather friends together for a birth storytelling circle. Others write their birth stories or letters to those they are angry with and then burn the paper. Some have placental burials, affirmation declarations, or other rituals where they can either give themselves positive reinforcement or express anger in a healthy way toward others.

Find activities that help release your emotions, tension, and stress. Exercise, good nutrition, mediation, and massage are especially helpful, as are your hobbies or even chores if you are able to channel your strong emotions into them.

Healing is Possible

When a woman is in the midst of feeling the emotional trauma from a disappointing birth experience, it can seem like her former, happy self has gone away forever and a depressed, angry person has taken place. Healing takes time and effort, but it is well worth it in the end. Unhealed emotions from a traumatic birth experience can take their toll not only on the relationships within a family, but also on the future children (or decision whether to have more children) and on the woman.

Sharing your story through an API Support Group, the API Forum, or by submission to The Attached Family online “Birth Stories” section can be a great start to healing through your birth story – as well as helping others heal from their traumatic births.

In her Plus-Size-Pregnancy.org article, KMom explains: “Reading other women’s stories of recovery after a [traumatic birth] can be very healing. Sometimes, confronting women’s pain or our own can be distressing, but it is running away from or avoiding the pain that prolongs it. Dealing with the pain when you are ready can be very revealing about general life issues, can help you heal many ways emotionally, and can help you face your fears and prepare for future pregnancies and births. Remember, ‘The other side of fear is freedom.’”

For More Information

Birthing as a Healing Experience by Lois Halzel Freedman

Ended Beginnings by Claudia Panuthos & Catherine Romeo

Rebounding from Childbirth by Lynn Madsen

Silent Knife by Nancy Cohen Wainer & Lois Estner

Transformation Through Childbirth by Claudia Panuthos

Trust Your Body! Trust Your Baby! by Andrea Frank Henkart

4. The Growing Child, The Editor's Desk

How to Handle a Little Shoplifter

June 1, 2009 The Attached Family Leave a comment

By Rita Brhel, managing editor and attachment parenting resource leader (API)

When I was younger, my mother would take my sister and I to browse through little shops in our hometown full of local artisan’s crafts. She never bought anything; she just liked to look. On one of the trips when I was about eight years old, I spied a replica of a U.S. quarter about the size of a saucer and I just had to have it. I didn’t have any money with me, and when I asked my mom if she could buy it for me, she said no. So, when no one was looking, I put it in my coat pocket.

A couple days later, my mom was looking for a pen in the desk in my bedroom and opened the drawer where I had hidden the toy coin. Remembering back, I realize that she knew immediately what had happened. She turned to me and asked where I got the toy coin. I first said that I didn’t remember but then I said that I took it. She asked me why, and I said that I really wanted it. Then she picked it up and left my room.

Normally, my mom would’ve lost her temper and yelled and spanked. This time, though, she was very quiet and looked sad. I didn’t get defensive like I normally would’ve; instead, I went to my room, laid down in my bed, and cried. Later, she came in and told me how disappointed she was in me, and I told her I was sorry for making her sad. We hugged, and the next day, she drove me to the store where she asked for the store manager. I handed the toy coin back, told him I was sorry, and promised that I would never shoplift again. And I meant it.

Remembering back, I don’t think my mom’s reaction was intentional. I think she had been caught off-guard and didn’t know what else to do. But her reaction really sticks out in my mind. Few other lessons had sunk in as quickly as that one did.

AP Doesn’t Prevent Challenging Behavior — It Gives Us Tools to Deal with It

Just because we are raising our children in a way that promotes conscious thinking in their own behavior toward others doesn’t mean we won’t encounter challenges along the way. Even the most attached child could be tempted to shoplift if his curiosity is piqued and he has a strong desire for a particular object. So, how should we react? Continue reading How to Handle a Little Shoplifter →

5. The Adolescent, The Editor's Desk

Dealing with an Angry Teen

June 1, 2009 The Attached Family Leave a comment

By Rita Brhel, managing editor and attachment parenting resource leader (API)

Angry teen Do you find yourself getting frustrated with your teen? So does every parent at some time. What about anger – has your relationship with your teen turned into a fight for control, and it seems that all your exchanges with your teen seem to be out of anger? For many parents, this is the sad reality of their relationship with their teenager.

Why So Angry?

According to Christina Botto, author of Help Me with My Teenager!, in her ParentingTeenager.net article, “Today’s Angry Teens,” a teenager’s anger is borne out of immature coping skills to daily stress. In addition to seeking independence and less parental control, which results in a stubborn and argumentative adolescent, teens are trying to deal with everyday stress as well as a host of emotional issues including:

Changes in their bodies
Trying to establish an identity
Dealing with friends
Positive and negative peer pressure
School demands
Too many extracurricular activities
Parental expectations
Feelings of being treated unfairly, such as being accused of something they didn’t do
Not getting a chance to voice their opinions to authority figures

In addition, some teens are dealing with high-stress situations such as separation or divorce of their parents or a chronic illness in or death of a loved one.

“It’s no surprise that our teens might become overloaded with stress,” Botto said.

Anger is an Immature Coping Mechanism

If we think about it, adolescents are dealing with these stresses for years. As adults, most of us would have difficulty dealing with these types of emotional stresses long-term, too. Both adults and teens are prone to develop depression in these situations, and while depression is often marked by despair and hopelessness, it can manifest itself as anger.

“Depression and anger are two sides of the same coin. They are the behaviors most used by survivors to cope with their damaged lives,” according to Suicide and Mental Health Association International.

A teen’s anger is borne out of her poor coping skills:

Getting angry is a way to feel in control – Botto explains how getting angry is the only way most teens know how to avoid feeling sadness, hurt, or fear.
Teens have unreasonable expectations – When a teen is unable to get what he wants when he wants it, he feels out of control, which makes him angry.

Teaching Our Children Healthy Ways to Express Anger

Anger is a healthy, normal emotion if expressed in a way that doesn’t hurt the teen or others around him. But because teens have difficulty in regulating their strong emotions, they may also have difficulty in expressing their anger in an appropriate way. As parents, we need to focus on modeling and teaching our teens how to handle stress – and anger – in a healthy way.

Botto said it’s easy for parents to lose control of their own emotions when dealing with their teen’s anger: “Parents are often caught by surprise and react by either yelling or arguing back, or punishing their teen for showing their anger. Instead, parents need to see this show of anger or rage as a signal that their teen is battling with or facing a situation they cannot handle on their own, or is overwhelmed by the demands of his or her daily live.”

Her advice to parents is to:

Ask your teen what unresolved conflict she is facing.
Listen to your teen.
Focus on her feelings.
Understand the situation from your teen’s perspective.
Help your teen work towards a solution.
Show your teenager that you care.

Danger Signs
Not all teens express their anger in the same way, just as is the case with adults. Parents should be on the lookout for:

Withdrawing, which is indicative of a teen who is repressing his emotions and can result in depression and psychosomatic disorders.

Turning to alcohol and drugs, or other forms of self-medicating.

Defiant or destructive behavior, include violence toward others and self.

If these danger signs develop, your teen may need professional help to resolve his anger issues. Unresolved issues can cause lasting damage to your teen’s critical thinking ability, ability to have a close and loving marital relationship and friendships, and ability to learn how to self regulate his strong emotions.

2. The Infant

Babywearing is Good for Babies

June 1, 2009 The Attached Family 1 Comment

By Marie Blois, MD, member of API’s Board of Directors

Babywearing mom Biologically, babies need to be carried in order to thrive. Studies have shown that otherwise well-nourished and cared for infants who are deprived of human touch fail to thrive and can even die. Good things happen when baby is carried. Research shows that babies who are held often:

Cry less — Studies have shown that the more babies are held, the less they cry. The long-term consequences of letting infants cry without responding are just beginning to be understood. One study found that letting babies cry permanently alters the nervous system by flooding the developing brain with stress hormones. Responding quickly to your crying baby is an investment: the less she cries now, the more peaceful the upcoming year. It’s well worth your effort.
Are more calm and content — Carried babies have a more regular respiratory rate, heart rate, and steady internal body temperature. Even very tiny premature babies can be carried safely in a sling without danger of compromised breathing or heart rate. Regularly carrying a baby encourages baby to feel secure and content.
Sleep more peacefully — Keeping baby close helps organize his sleep-wake cycles. Naptimes are spent in constant motion, close to mother’s heart and nighttime is dark and still with a loved parent nearby. One study of premature infants found that babies had longer intervals of quiet sleep when they had skin-to-skin contact with mother.
Develop better — Babies who are held experience human touch and movement. This stimulation has been shown to have a positive effect on baby’s development. Carrying baby enhances motor skills by stimulating the vestibular system (used for balance). Carrying baby naturally limits the time baby spends in hard plastic carriers, such as car seats, automatic swings, and such. Holding baby while moving counts as “tummy time.”

Our babies are clever. They are born knowing how to signal their biological needs. They root when they need to nurse, smile when they need vital eye contact for optimal brain development, and they love to be held. There are good biological reasons for these behaviors: they help babies survive and thrive.

Excerpted from: Blois, M. (2005). Babywearing: The benefits and beauty of this ancient tradition. Amarillo, TX: Hale Publishing. www.ibreastfeeding.com.

1. Pregnancy & Birth

Be Prepared for These Common Childbirth Interventions

May 18, 2009 The Attached Family Leave a comment

By Amber Lewis, staff writer for The Attached Family publications

“Childbirth is more admirable than conquest, more amazing than self-defense, and as courageous as either one.”
~ Gloria Steinem, Ms. Magazine, April 1981

Most pregnant women will tell you they have a plan for their labor, but just as parents cannot imagine how their children will turn out as they grow and mature, soon-to-be mothers cannot be guaranteed a perfect birth. Labor experiences are as varied and vast as the types of people who go through them and the children those experiences bring into the world. There are just as many emotions involved in this miraculous experience, and while many births are happy and uncomplicated, others can be deeply disappointing for the parents.

This leads to the question: What to do when childbirth does not go as it was planned to? Continue reading Be Prepared for These Common Childbirth Interventions →

Your Birth Stories

Luke’s Birth

April 27, 2009 The Attached Family Leave a comment

By Jeannette Freeman, leader of API of Southeast Texas

Editor’s Note: Attachment Parenting International does not advocate unassisted birth of any sort. We believe the safest birthing environment for every baby, whether at home or in a hospital or birthing center, is with assistance from a midwife, obstetrician, or another accredited birthing assistant. The following article has been published to give this mother a voice in telling her birth story only, without any endorsement of her decisions made regarding her child’s birth.

Luke Elliot was born Friday, Sept. 21, at 5:43 p.m., shortly before sunset and the beginning of the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). My “due date” had been the previous Saturday, and I really wanted him to be born before the next Sabbath, as I was tired of everyone at church being surprised that he hadn’t arrived yet.

My original due date had been off by two months, and some of the mother hens of the congregation, namely those who birthed in the 1950s and ’60s, were more than a little anxious about my unassisted pregnancy and planned unassisted birth. It had gotten to the point when my husband, Mark, and I decided to visit an obstetrician to calm everyone’s nerves. The doctor refused to touch me unless I was willing to submit to a vaginal exam and whatever else he deemed necessary. I refused.

The morning of Luke’s birth, Mark, my two-year-old daughter Audrey, and I spent over an hour picking up branches and leaves from our front yard after Hurricane Humberto  our first hurricane experience  had hit the week previous. After I put Audrey down for her nap, I commented to Mark, “We may have started something,” referring to the yard work and my now-present uterine contractions. When Audrey awoke at 2:45 p.m., my labor became active. There was no stopping now!

It was a rather surreal labor, as I chose different positions, consulted two different birthing books, gave instructions to my husband, and practiced a variety of vocalizations to figure out what did and did not work for me, mindful than some noises might startle my daughter.

Our bathroom  truly a one-person room  became my center of command. For awhile, I labored on the toilet, leaning on a pillow resting on a TV tray table. For awhile, I labored on my hands and knees. My butt was in the bathroom and my torso in the hallway. Between contractions, I was leaning forward on two large couch pillows with my butt up in the air to slow progress down a bit. This was entirely different from Audrey’s labor that lasted so long I was literally out of energy before it was over. It was during this period that Audrey insisted that her father get her a pillow of her own to lie on. Now, when I leaned forward on my pillows during contractions, she did too. I wish I had a picture of that!

I consulted a book to determine if I had entered the transition stage yet. I had. I then read that after transition, there was often a release of endorphins. I felt that rush, than had two more contractions that felt like they were still part of transition before my body moved onto the pushing stage. During the pushing stage, I hung on the bathroom door.

A little bit into the pushing stage, I reached into my vagina to feel Luke’s head. This is something I had never considered doing, but it was exhilarating to touch the little person I had been waiting for months to see.

By this time, my husband and daughter were sitting outside the bathroom door and watching. A few more pushes and Luke’s head crowned. I took my time, knowing that he would come out eventually and that I didn’t want to tear. Soon, he was part way out. I got a hold of him and realized I could catch him myself, so I did. I was ecstatic. I held my boy for a few long moments and then exclaimed, “We did it!”

When I looked at the umbilical cord, it was already white and ready to cut. This was a good thing, as it was rather short. I suspected it would be, as it was with Audrey, and it was rather awkward to hold Luke. My husband did the honors. I balked at the smell of the rubbing alcohol he used to clean his pocketknife. It was offensive to my senses and out of place.

Mmy boy’s head smelled aseptic. It wasn’t a hospital-like, chemically created aseptic smell but a natural cleanness from his time in the womb. It surprised me until I thought about how the womb was indeed a sterile place.

I sat on the floor in the mess for a few minutes and then crawled into the tub while my husband cleaned up. Then, my husband took Luke and Audrey into the library. I ended up birthing the placenta on the toilet. I knew it was coming and I tried to get to the tub. I wanted to check the placenta to make sure it was complete. I did fish it out of the toilet later and put it in a big bowl. I looked at it later but gave up trying to figure out if it was all there. Instead, I put it in a bag to send out with the trash.

Less than an hour after Luke’s birth, I was standing in my shower thinking, “Wow! This is great. Showering in my own shower. Never leaving home to birth my own baby. This is the way to do it. So much more relaxed and peaceful than the hospital.”

Audrey had big plans for her new brother. She had Dad read a book to him, and brought him a block to play with and a pair of her shoes to wear. Mark enjoyed this time of the three of them bonding while I cleaned myself up.

I have no intention of leaving my home to birth again. It was an amazingly empowering event that, three months later, I still ponder with awe.

I began my journey towards an unhindered birth with the belief that my Maker created my body to birth and that He created it perfectly. Planning an unhindered birth was my way of “putting my money where my mouth was.” I’m glad I did.

Your Birth Stories

Audrey’s Birth

April 27, 2009 The Attached Family Leave a comment

By Jeannette Freeman, leader of API of Southeast Texas

On Monday morning, August 1, I woke up with my first contraction at 5:30 a.m. I had another at 6:30 a.m., 7 a.m., and then periodically throughout the day. I was able to continue my usual activities, but by the time bedtime rolled around, I couldn’t ignore the contractions any longer. I tried to get comfortable. I tried everything I could think of. Even took a bath. No luck. I didn’t sleep at all. However, I did everything I could to conserve my energy, knowing I would need it.

Finally, at about 4:30 a.m. on Tuesday, I couldn’t take it any longer and had Mark call the nurse-midwife. I didn’t know how far I’d dilated, but I figured I was at least somewhat along. My water hadn’t broke yet, either, but that isn’t a good indicator of how dilated you are.

We drove into the hospital, went to the triage area, and they checked me out. I was only two centimeters dilated. They had me walk the halls for an hour, from 6:30 to 7:30 a.m. During that time, my contractions went from just being in the front of my abdomen, to going almost all the way around my lower abdomen and back. That’s commonly called “back labor” and was more intense then the previous labor. I also lost my mucus plug. However, I figured out that the contractions were most easily handled if I walked through them.

They checked me again. No changes. I had the option to go home or stay at the hospital. I had no desire to be in the hospital any longer than necessary, so we left. We stopped at McDonald’s to get breakfast.

The morning and early afternoon were spent with a heating pad strapped to my lower back and attached to an extension cord. I lied on my bed between contractions; during the contractions, I would stand up and walk around the bed. Then, I would lie back down. I wanted some stress balls to squeeze but didn’t have any. I instead used two stuffed animals. At about 1:30 p.m., my water broke. It didn’t all come out at once. We called the nurse-midwife, and at some point, we headed to the hospital.

We got there at around 5 p.m. They put me on the monitor for 20 minutes, and then we went to walk the halls. They had a large labor pool, and when we came back from walking, I got into the pool and stayed there for the duration of the first stage of labor. I rested my chin on a pile of towels on edge of the pool and knelt the entire time in the pool. I had the lights dimmed but with no music or background noise. I just went with my body and followed its cues, with a lot of pelvic rocking and loud vocalizations. Finally, at 8:40 p.m., I was fully dilated and got out of the pool for the pushing stage.

Through all of this, I was trying to conserve energy but was slowly losing energy. I hadn’t eaten since 11 a.m., so I was running on empty. The only thing I would have done differently would be making sure that I kept eating every couple hours up until going to the hospital, even if I didn’t particularly feel like it. At first, I was kneeling on the bed, then I tried lying on my side to conserve energy, but that wasn’t very comfortable at all. My midwife then suggested that I try squatting. She said it would require more energy, but that she thought the baby could be born in about 30 minutes. This was at 10:09 p.m.

I don’t think she realized how little energy I had at that point, because it was two more hours before Audrey arrived. My body definitely had slowed down. The contractions were farther apart and did not last as long. My midwife suggested an I.V. After awhile, I could feel my blood sugar level going down and I agreed to the I.V. After that boost of energy, the pace picked up a bit and it wasn’t too long before my daughter, Audrey, was born at 12:14 a.m. on August 3. Her cord was so short that my husband, Mark, had to cut it before I could even hold her. My midwife was concerned that my body wouldn’t expel the placenta naturally and that I would hemorrhage, so she had Pitocin ready if necessary to encourage it along. But the placenta came out by itself five minutes after Audrey.

We were in the delivery room about one-and-a-half hours before they moved us to our postpartum room. From then on, it was a standard hospital stay. We were discharged Thursday morning at 11 a.m., 35 hours after Audrey’s arrival.

Your Birth Stories

The Story of Emily Fran

April 27, 2009 The Attached Family 1 Comment

By Rita Brhel, editor of The Attached Family publications

Emily Fran was born at 8:27 a.m. on Tuesday, October 23, at 19 inches long and six pounds, 12 ounces. I waited a long time to write her birth story. Emily was more than a year old when I finally decided to sit down and put it on paper. The reason is because my pregnancy with her was rather bittersweet: I had been happy to be pregnant again, but stressed by the fact that my previous pregnancy had ended in a dangerous condition that had formed for no known medical reason. I didn’t want to put another baby in a life-threatening situation, but with none of my questions answered from the previous pregnancy, I didn’t see how this pregnancy could be any different.

Emily is our second child, our second daughter. Unlike her sister Rachel, my pregnancy with her was never threatened with anything more than my extreme fear that something may go wrong and that Emily would be born early. But Emily was no less a miracle child. She didn’t survive against all odds, but she was my hope…a wonderful, beautiful gift from God that helped me heal and taught me about faith.

Emily didn’t come when my husband Mike and I were planning for a second child — in fact, I found out I was pregnant only a week after Rachel came off the last of her medicines for apnea of prematurity; Rachel was nine months old.

Through my mother’s OB/GYN office, I found a very experienced specialist who was able to answer all of my questions of what exactly went wrong with my first pregnancy. Terry Foote, MD, had more than 30 years of experience; in fact, he delivered my brother John and shared the office with the doctor who had delivered me when I was born. He helped me come to terms with what had happened with my first pregnancy and what had to happen with this pregnancy. I learned that the placental abruption most certainly had its root in a fluke in how the placenta had developed and that the threatened miscarriage was the sign of this, but that the real reason for the abruption was undiagnosed pre-eclampsia. The fact that I suffered no edema, not even swollen ankles, during Emily’s pregnancy and that my blood pressure never rose supported this theory. The premature labor and birth with Rachel was likely the only one I would ever experience.

However, the fact that I had such a difficult time delivering a three-and-a-half pound baby with my first pregnancy was troubling. I have a narrow pelvis, meaning that my bones along the birth canal are misshapen so that I cannot deliver a baby larger than four pounds. I would have to have a Cesarean section; a vaginal delivery is impossible for a full-term baby.

The night before my scheduled C-section, I couldn’t sleep at all. I was nervous for the surgery, having never gone through one before — anxious for myself, for Emily, for Rachel. Mike got me up at 5 a.m. on October 23, at 39 weeks gestation, and drove me from our home in Sutton, Nebraska, to Mary Lanning Memorial Hospital in Hastings, Nebraska, the same hospital where I had been born 26 years earlier.

The surgery wasn’t pleasant, and there were some complications for both Emily and I, so I couldn’t hold her anymore than I had held Rachel when she was born. A nurse held her up for me to see for a couple minutes before I had to be put to sleep to finish the surgery.

Unbeknownst to my doctor, I had become anemic during the last month of my pregnancy and with a hemorrhage during the surgery, I had lost a lot of blood. My iron level had dipped down to 5, when the normal is 12 to 16. I also had a spinal fluid leak due to the spinal injection for the narcotic-anesthetic for the C-section.

Emily had low blood sugar when she was born, but more than that, her poor nose had apparently been smashed up against my pelvis since she turned head-down in utero. The newborn doctor used a naso-gastric tube to open up one nostril to make sure she could breathe through both sides of her nose.

Editor’s Note: Read the rest of this story in “Pregnancy & Birth” section of TheAttachedFamily.com with the article, “Sibling Spacing: One Year Apart, Too Close or Just Right?” or click here.

Your Birth Stories

The Story of Rachel

April 27, 2009 The Attached Family Leave a comment

By Rita Brhel, editor of The Attached Family publications

Editor’s Note:

This birth story goes along with the article of how I came to Attachment Parenting through my premature daughter’s birth. Find the article, “AP from a Preemie Mom’s Perspective,” in the “Your AP Stories” section of TheAttachedFamily.com or by clicking here.

As my second trimester came to a close at the end of May, with the summer promising to be very hot, I began to wonder how big I would get and how exactly I’d be able to do my busy, active journalism job as my pregnancy progressed. While I was starting to get a little nervous about my due date, August 13, and was sad that I’d miss my usual summer activities of water-skiing and canoeing, I still felt good. Besides some swelling in my ankles, the pregnancy seemed to be going along just fine.

The morning of Tuesday, June 6, everything changed. Pregnancy was no longer nearly as fun or as full of promise for a healthy baby. I woke up at 5:30 a.m. in a pool of blood. My first thought was that I had lost the baby, but as soon as I stood up, I felt a kick. I couldn’t grasp that she was still alive when it was clear from the blood that things were not at all OK.

Fifteen minutes later, my husband Mike had driven me to the clinic in Hartington, Nebraska — only 10 miles away, but the ride seemed like an eternity. The doctor hooked me up to the ultrasound and contraction reader, found the baby’s heartbeat and said everything was going to be OK. However, I would need to go to the hospital to stop the labor that had begun. I was also given the first of two painful steroid shots to quicken my baby’s lung maturity.

Because I was only 30 weeks along in my pregnancy, it was decided that I would need to go to the Avera McKennan Hospital in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, a hospital that specializes in high-risk pregnancies and has a Level III Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, or NICU, a nursery that is able to handle the youngest and sickest babies, basically any baby born before 32 weeks gestation. It was a long ambulance ride up there, one and a half hours away from Hartington. Mike followed the ambulance in the car; I distracted myself from the contractions that were coming every 10 minutes by chatting with the paramedics.

Once I got to the hospital, the perinatalogist determined that I had a placental abruption, a dangerous complication in which the placenta prematurely separates from the uterus, causing the mother to hemorrhage and the baby’s oxygen and nutrient supply to diminish. I also had effaced nearly 100 percent, signaling that labor had been going on silently for longer than just that morning, most likely caused by an incompetent, or weak, cervix. Luckily, dilation had not begun, I was stable, the baby showed no signs of distress and my water had not broken. There was hope.

I was placed on strict bed rest — not even able to go to the bathroom, shut the curtains, or turn on the TV — and put on a powerful dose of magnesium sulfate, a drug that effectively stopped labor but left my body wrecked. The first dose of medicine, put through my I.V., felt like fire running through my veins. I was extremely weak and dizzy, and had to be on oxygen. My heart rate, blood pressure, blood-oxygen levels, urine output and temperature were checked every hour by the nurse; my medicine level checked every four hours by a blood draw; and I could only eat a liquid diet. I still cannot eat Jello to this day. But it worked; I had stopped bleeding and I felt less than four contractions an hour, not enough to cause labor to progress.

The ultimate goal was to delay labor long enough so that my baby wouldn’t be born until the steroids had time to work, at least 24 hours past the second injection. The hope would be that I could stay on bed rest at the hospital until at least 32 weeks, when the survival rate of premature babies jumps up to about 98 percent and complications were less likely and less severe. The survival rate for a 30-weeker was 90 percent but complications were more common and their severity higher.

At one point during my hospital stay, a neonatalogist visited my bedside to give me an overview of the NICU. I had no idea was he was trying to tell me — I thought the drugs would work, the pregnancy would last until my baby was term, my baby wouldn’t need any sort of NICU care. I had never even heard of the NICU before then, and when he asked me if I had any questions, I just stared at him blankly … even though my mind was racing with them.

Thursday, June 8, was the day of truth … in my mind. That was the day I was to be taken off the magnesium sulfate and put on the pill form of procardia, a drug created for heart patients, with the hope that it would keep labor-progressing contractions at bay. Unfortunately, Mike had to return to work on Friday, so I begged for my dad to come and stay with me, instead.

Thursday was a good day. Friday was not. My contractions came back early Friday morning, June 9, with all the intensity they had on Tuesday. At 11 a.m. Friday, I was put back on a magnesium sulfate I.V. with a double dose of the procardia pill and an injection of terbutaline, another anti-labor drug that gave me the shakes. I braved each contraction, with the help of my dad and a nurse as my coaches since I had never been through childbirth classes, with the expectation that the drugs would work. But when the perinatalogist checked my cervix at about 3 p.m., he found that I was 7 centimeters dilated and far beyond the point of halting labor. I had also started hemorrhaging again, and birth was the only sure way that neither me nor my baby would die. It was devastating to hear the doctors say there was nothing more they could do to stop labor and that my baby’s well-being was left to fate.

I was immediately wheeled down to the next floor to prepare for delivery. I was given an epidural, not only for my pain relief and to help keep me and my baby calm, but also to ensure that an emergency C-section would be possible. If the baby showed any signs of distress, it was expected that I would undergo a C-section immediately.

Mike got to the hospital just as soon as the anesthesia started working, but although he had missed most of the labor, he was right in on the action during birth. My time to push came so quickly that he didn’t even have time to scrub in. Wearing a pair of shorts and a sweaty shirt, he helped hold my leg and my hand, telling me how great of a job I was doing.

I had been pushing for 40 minutes when we ran into a snag. The baby was starting to show signs of distress, a slowing heart rate. I was put back on oxygen to help my baby out, but the doctor advised me he’d have to help her out in his own way. He decided to try an episiotomy, but said that if the baby didn’t come out with one pushing cycle, we’d have to do a C-section. After all that work, and especially an episiotomy already done, I did not want that C-section. And, luckily, I didn’t have to have one.

At 10:17 p.m., a little girl with blond hair was born measuring 16 inches long and weighing three pounds, seven ounces, about a pound more than the neonatalogists were hoping.

Connecting with our children for a more compassionate world.