In the theme of my last post, Becoming a Co-sleeper, another benefit of sleeping with our babies, (and attachment-parenting in general), occurred to me the other night:
Photo courtesy of Neil J. Pelman Photography
We were spending a week at our brother and sister-in-law’s place in Vancouver while they were out of town, and by the last few days of our stay I realized that our 5-month-old seemed a lot fussier than usual during the day, and generally ‘out of sorts.’ I suggested to my partner that it could be because, after all, he had been in the same environment and general routine since birth, (except for the odd weekend spent away), so suddenly spending 7 days in a completely different visual/spacial configuration could no-doubt throw off his sense of continuity. My partner replied along the lines of, “Well, he still in your arms all the time. That hasn’t changed. He’s fine.”
I think it is indisputably beneficial to expose children to a variety of experiences; but, at the same time, much evidence points to the importance of young children having a sense of stability and consistency in their environment. For some parents, this means schedules. Ever heard someone say that babies “thrive on routine?” Some use a special blanket/toy or pacifier as a comforting placeholder. I’ve even read some books that suggest an elaborate routine consisting of special “wake times” that require feeding, then playing, then shushing, and leaving the baby in a dim room to sleep and repeat. I think that’s bogus. For us, this has meant quite simply that I myself am ‘The Constant’. Baby is in my arms (or the sling/ergo/other-arms), all day, free to sleep when he wants, and I bring him to bed with me at night. I don’t feel the need for a set schedule or routine for my babies because my nearly constant attachment to them fulfills that purpose, no matter where in the house (on the continent), we happen to be.
Indeed, it did seem that so long as he was in my arms he would sleep as soundly and comfortably as ever, wherever sleep overtook him. The location or mattress may have been a little different, but my breathing, scent, and movements all went unchanged. The in-arms phase is so fleeting; it is a pleasure to embrace while it lasts.
More Scientific Benefits to Co-Sleeping: http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/sleep-problems/scientific-benefits-co-sleeping
I have always shared a bed with my babies, though I had not always planned to. I had never given it any thought until becoming pregnant and going over a list of “necessary” baby items like cribs and baby-monitors. Suddenly, the prospect of having to physically get out of bed in the night to nurse an infant fussing on the other side of the room (or worse, in ANOTHER room,) felt profoundly unnatural and inconvenient. I thought, “Can’t I just sleep beside my baby with my shirt off and not get up at all? Why does everyone seem to need a crib?” This question spurred me to do some research into sleeping arrangements while I was pregnant with my first child. After months of reading literature and countless anecdotes, co-sleeping (and bed-sharing) had the most compelling arguments and logic behind it; and, to my parenting “instinct,” it felt right. After all, my baby had just spent the last 9 months incubating inside me, feeling my heartbeat, my movements, and my voice. Why should the post-birth experience mean immediate isolation and sleep training? I could not find a persuasive argument to answer that.
Last night I was in bed trying to put my daughter to sleep, (chatting and fooling around, of course,) when my partner popped his head in the room, and I asked him if he would go get me a glass of water. Wisely obliging, he went downstairs. When he returned and handed me glass, I said, “Thank-you!” and reached my hand out and took it. “Thank you!” echoed my daughter cheekily as she reached out her hand as if to take an invisible glass herself. We chuckled, and he started back down stairs. “Wait! Can I have some cream?” she asked. (Yes, she prefers cream to milk.) “No sweetie, you may not. It’s bed time, you already had a drink,” I replied, reflexively. Yes, he chimed in agreement. Yes, she had already had a drink, and surely she was stalling. Why not have a sip of mine? No, she wanted her own. She tried pouting. We stayed strong. Then whining. Followed by begging, ‘please! But I said PLEASE!.’ We held fast. This was a situation that could easily, on another night, have escalated into a power-struggle of Yes-No-Yes-No until it inevitably burst; either ending with us giving in under pretense of negotiation, ‘oh okay fine, I’ll get you the cream… IF you promise to go to sleep right after.” Or, with her in tears, fresh out of approaches, and inconsolable at the complete injustice of it all. (After all, how would you feel?)
Parenting is often easiest when we are relaxed and calm; and able to pre-meditate on our approach to various learning opportunities. The moments that can easily get the best of us are the rushed, distracted ones, (whether real or perceived.) Being cognizant of our own reactive state is key to ensuring we don’t fall into a parenting cycle of reaction and rationalization.
Why can the truth be so intimidating? It’s because it is powerful, It is inescapable, and ‘resistance is futile’. No matter what stories we construct in order to shield ourselves from it, or deny it, we cannot alter it. When we have been lying, the truth always threatens to expose us. And yet, it is the only thing that can set us free. The truth empowers us; it is the life force. It is undeniable.
A fantastic article on 
