Today my oldest child is 10 years old. A decade as he likes to say. The big 1-0. Double digits. He is tall. His foot is a mere 1/2″ shorter than mine (and I have big feet!). He has a wonderful smile and a very intelligent outlook on life. He loves to read. When Daddy comes home from work having stopped at the library on the way and delivers books to him, he calls it “Book Christmas”. He is immediately engrossed in a book. He actually gets in trouble from time to time for reading when he should be doing something else. Being a book lover myself, I love this trait about him.

He loves to talk. He has an amazing memory. He can recite things word for word after hearing or reading them. Especially commercials. Thankfully this has decreased now that we don’t have TV. I used to get the full run down on the benefits of the Snugee or the glass ball that waters your plants. Now I just hear word for word what he has read. Which is often entertaining.

Most of all, I love him. I just enjoy him. He’s responsible, entertaining, and honest. He is, dare I say it, our guinea pig. The first born. He is the child we have learned on. All of our five children are different and wonderful and we learn a great deal from all of them. They all require new learning and lead us into new areas of parenting. But the first child is special. Mom & Dad have no prior experience. No hands on experience.  Only books and other parents to turn to for advice.

I had no idea when he was born how deeply he would change my life. How much growing I would have to do to be a mother. I certainly thought I had it all down pat before he arrived.  We had been urged by friends and family to use the Ezzo method of parenting (Babywise). This seemed like a great idea to us. Baby would be sleeping through the night at 6 weeks and life would be perfect. I’ll warn you now that if this is a sensitive subject for you, please feel free to click away. I’m about to get all soap-boxy…

Here is a site that I found (yesterday – wish it had been around 10 yrs. ago) that can give you some background on the Ezzo parenting methods and the controversy that follows them.  Prior to my son’s birth my husband and I read the parenting guide and did our best to prepare for baby. Though our Bradly birth instructor was one of those “weird” moms who let her 18 mo. old nurse (gasp!), we held to our beliefs that babies needed to be trained – right from birth.

Though I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent person, I could not seem to grasp the feeding schedule. What with a sore body, giant boobs, and trying to get this new baby to nurse, I was lost when it came to scheduling him to nurse. I even had my husband write down the schedule so that I could abide by it. It just didn’t flow though. I was constantly watching the clock and beating myself up when I mixed things up. And then there was the crying.

Our beautiful new boy had a powerful set of lungs. He cried every time I put him in his crib. It was AWFUL! I called fellow Ezzo parents for advice. I was told

• close the door to his room and turn up the TV
• listen to music on headphones so you can’t hear him
• lay him on his stomach with a pacifier in his mouth so he can’t spit it out

Finally, one mom said the key words, “You are his mom and you are the only one who can decide what’s right for him.” Ironically she would later decide that our children could not socialize because we were not raising our kids by the Ezzo method. Her words stuck in my mind. Soon I would be staring down at my little baby in his crib. He was purple-ish from crying. There was a ring of sweat around him on his crib sheets from his frantic crying. I truly believe that I felt the Lord speak to me saying, “Woman, pick up your child.”  And I did. It dawned on me that if we had company – I would not leave my baby to cry. I would have tried to quiet him. If, pardon my brashness, but, if Jesus had been over to visit us, I certainly would not have left my baby to scream and cry while I offered him a drink of water. Of course not. And if Jesus were there in physical body, I believe he would have picked up the child himself if I had not.

There was no more crying it out at our house. He co-slept, he was worn in a sling every day, he was nursed whenever he wanted to nurse. And you know what? He is turning out just fine!   And now I have that one missing thing that new mothers lack when trying to muster the gumption to tell others to mind their own darn business…I have experience. Ten years and five children worth. It’s been tough. It’s been challenging. It’s been amazing. Each night as I rock my 9 month old I take time to be aware of her. Her smell. Her softness. The wonderful sound of her breathing. Trying to memorize each second and burn it into my memory. It doesn’t work. I did the same thing with my now 10 year old. Yes, I remember smelling him and loving the sound of his breath. The warmth of his body next to mine. But the actual bliss of the moments; it fades. I know I loved it. I know I don’t regret one rock of the rocking chair or one hot and sweaty afternoon of wearing him in the sling. But the experience fades with the years. So mothers, love your babies. Love them dearly and truly. Love them for the amazing and wonderful creations they are. Nurse them. Hug them. Snuggle them. Enjoy them. They are tiny for a very very short time. Bond with them. Let your family and friends think you’re crazy. Maybe you are. But you are your child’s mother and you are the one who chooses what is best for your baby. Remember that.

If you are a parent who has chosen differently, I don’t judge you based on that. I do not believe that based on that choice you are a bad parent. We have family and friends who chose the cry it out method and they have no regrets either (at least not that they’ve mentioned to us). I’m sharing my experience in an effort to encourage mothers who may be on the edge and feel torn between the advice in a book and their own mothering instincts.

Two great sites:
Dr. Sears
La Leche League International

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Tags: Family