New blog.

I am blogging now at Notes from the Neighborhood. Please come join us!

Becoming a Stone Catcher

Becoming… a stone catcher. 

I read an article in the Smithsonian Magazine a few years back, it was titled "Why Mass Incarceration Defines us as a Society," by Chris Hedges.
The article went on to describe the life’s work of a man named Bryan Stevenson. The article moved me in many ways. And began my admiration and “following” of Mr. Bryan Stevenson, a human rights lawyer who has committed his life to helping solve the injustices of the criminal “justice” system in America, and was the man who fought and won to outlaw life without parole sentences for minors. (This TEDtalk he did is amazing.)
A piece of the article has reverberated in my mind since the day I sat on the glider ottoman in my in-laws kitchen reading and re-reading the article. 

"Stevenson turns frequently to the Bible. He quotes to me from the Gospel of John, where Jesus says of the woman who committed adultery: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” He tells me an elderly black woman once called him a “stone catcher." There is no such thing as being a Christian and not being a stone catcher,” he says. “But that is exhausting. You’re not going to catch them all. And it hurts. If it doesn’t make you sad to have to do that, then you don’t understand what it means to be engaged in an act of faith....But if you have the right relationship to it, it is less of a burden, finally, than a blessing. It makes you feel stronger.”

This idea of being a stone catcher. 

That was it for me. 

And thus began a journey (that  had started years before, but now had a definition) toward the broken, hurting, and downtrodden. A journey towards suffering, poverty, exclusion, unfairness and injustice. It is a journey I am, in many ways, just beginning. A journey that I find myself often just observing, more often than I care to admit. From a place of privilege and relative wealth, I often feel as if much of my place is to be that of a voice, an educator, and advocate. 

I have found my Father's position for me, catching the stones for kids. Most often kids who make “bad choices” or behave “poorly” as a result of their trauma, but for all kids really. Educating parents, school professionals, therapists, foster parents, social workers, hospitals, and churches in ways to help heal. And most recently, my passion to see parents become whole and secure in their relationships so that, in turn, they can raise secure children. 

As one of my heroes, since childhood, Frederick Douglas put it, “It is easier to build strong children, than to repair broken men.”

I believe that part of my becoming story is in helping educate parents so that they can begin the work of repairing themselves, which will result in a generation of strong children. I don't think this is a chicken or the egg argument. Without helping "repair" adults, we will never have strong children.

So why am I saying all this?

I have been given the enormous privilege and honor of being able to share a bit of my story on "Becoming a Stone Catcher, what God says about my purpose." On my dear friend Jeanne Oliver’s online community of creatives. 

She is hosting an online class, for FREE, with many women sharing their stories of how God has helped them discover their true identities.  

Course description:
This January join 20 women for an 8 week study all about finding your true identity in Christ.  Each week you will hear unfolding stories from the women in this study.  We will be sharing truths about who the Lord says we are and our personal journeys to accepting those truths.
We will also have fun creative videos that follow the study where the women will share one of their gifts. Think guitar playing, bread making, painting, entertaining and more.  You know I can't have a course without sharing how the Lord uses our creativity! My hope is that the study will give you fresh eyes for the Lord and yourself.  When we know who we are in Christ it changes everything and opens our paths and gifts in incredible new ways.
Some of us are carrying around "truths" about ourselves that are flat out lies and it time to lay them down
This study will be open and honest, real, Bible based and a bit of creativity too.  We hope you will join us January 6, 2015 for this free online study!

Directions to register:
To join this free study you just need to be registered at jeanneoliver.ning.com (registering is free).
Once you are on the site you will find this study, free videos (business and art), my Creativity Takes Courage series and new online courses along the left hand side of the page.
You will find all of our courses/videos under the COURSES heading.
To register for Becoming | The Unfolding of You
1) Go to COURSES along the left hand side of the page
2) Go to the bottom of the course and click “view all” to find Becoming | The Unfolding of You
4) Click on Becoming | The Unfolding of You
3) Click the +join button on the upper right hand side
4) All of the details are on the page and you are all set for the study to begin on January 6, 2015

Please join me, and 19 amazing women, as we share pieces of our Becoming stories. 

Becoming trailer from Revilo Designs on Vimeo.

Parenting at it's core. Jesus, spanking, and perceptions.

I believe that the way we parent our children lays the foundation for who they believe God is.

I train parents. I have no idea how I got into this. I don't think I am great at it. But I do think God is great, and he uses asses like me.

A while back I spoke to a group of pastors from a large church. They asked us to come in and teach our parenting techniques, and research-based interventions to their entire church staff. I was ecstatic, you see usually we train in non-religious groups so I don't get to talk about how I believe these methods are truly the heart of God, I was excited to get to share the parts that I am most passionate about.

Yet I left weeping.

God didn't tell me that training parents meant I would be shifting people's beliefs of who God is. I didn't realize that we parent our children, the way we believe God has parented us.
(Tellingly, when I train a group of non-Christian parents the idea of grace based parenting, and attachment focused problem solving goes over so well. They have not confused the way they parent their children with their views of God, and thus research-based parenting techniques that require second-chances, and shame-free parenting methods are easily grasped.)

It is really hard to not distance your children when they make a terrible choice if you believe that God distances you when you make a terrible choice.

It is difficult to encourage parents to listen to their children, and respect their feelings, even if their children are being disrespectful; when you believe that you cannot go to God when you are angry or disappointed. That God only listens when you have your stuff together.

I believe that God wants us to come messy. He wants us to come angry.
He wants us to work out the mess of this world with Him.
And ultimately we are shaping little hearts and minds toward God, or away.
And we do this most directly in how we act when kids mess up.

I think this is the core issue when we watch young people stray from God as they become adults. Because when they finally get to make decisions for themselves, they run from disconnection, fear-based obligations, and harsh judgements or punishments.

I am nowhere near perfect, I mess up all the time. And I know that doesn't represent my Heavenly Father well to my children. But my hope in all of my failures, is that my children see that I will never remove my love, acceptance, or emotional availability from them despite their choices. I give grace, lot's of it. And the beauty in that, is that I get grace.

If we decided to start parenting with the grace and unconditional love that we preach about from pulpits, I believe we would see revival again, beginning in the youth.
But this would require a bunch of us adults to deal with our skewed views of who we think our Heavenly Father truly is, and why we believe He is that way.
And that is hard stuff.

(Here are a couple of the blogs I read that gave me the courage to finally post this blog I had written a while a back, was afraid to put out there.)
This
and This.

Unrelated things I am Pondering

A friend texted me today and said she was pondering my wise words, and quoted me. It totally made me laugh.

I am so not wise. At least I don't feel that way. And I am totally fine with that.

Summer has brought me to my knees. And I don't mean in that thank-God-for-all-He's-done kind of way. And that is probably my problem. [Should I just end the post here?]

One of my sweet dear children lost his mind while we were in New York. And we're all still recovering. It sort of rocked our[my] boat.

Our pastor started a series on rest when we returned from New York. And it's funny how God does sh&% like that you, when you're feeling more stressed and confused than ever before, he wants you to hear about rest. Because upon our return, I was feeling as if I would never be able to rest again. And summer was just beginning. And I was trapped.

Rest
My definition of rest= leaving my children for a designated period of time to not take care of anyone, at all.

Our pastor started out the series with the idea that most of us rest from our work, when we should be working from our rest.

I wanted to stand up and shout, "Hello! I am a mother of five traumatized kids!" (I do realize only three of the came to me traumatized, and I take full responsibility for traumatizing the other two.)
"I don't get any rest to work from! And when I do get rest, it isn't to fuel my work, it's to keep me out of jail!"

Needless to say, I showed up the other three weeks to hear all the answers to how I could feel rested. And work from my rest. If I get it figured out this summer, I will fill you in.
But I haven't yet. I think it might take a lifetime to fully grasp God's rest.

So I am pondering rest.
I pondered it in the middle of the night last night as I curled up at the feet of D's bed because I had left my own after a coughing toddler and snoring husband had me lying there pondering how to suffocate them both, with one pillow.

I pondered it while sitting in the backyard at 2 am with the puppy who refuses to go to the bathroom outside.

And I pondered it while watching 10 kids at the pool ages 7 and under.

How do I do the work of mothering from a place of rest? How do I work from my rest and not rest from my work?

I will continue to ponder it next week when I leave all my children behind. I think I will get all the answers on rest while I sit on the bow of a boat, on the lake.

(And to my friends who are helping to watch dear sweet child, I will eternally owe you, and I already asked God for an extra big shiny jewel for your crown, that I get to put there!)

Eternal Perspective
When I talk about adoption and foster care in the big picture, it is easy to remind and encourage others that they are changing the world. Literally, I believe that. From my core.

But I read this quote the other day that made me cry, and laugh, and try to blow away the mist... "Sometimes the mist of our time clouds our eternal perspective." - A.W. Tozer.

The more I work with hurting kids, the more my kids hurt, the more mist I see clouding my perspective of eternity. And thus I am pondering how to gain eternal perspective in the mist of summer cloudy days.

Bears
We have one that keeps sneaking around our house, and eating our berries, and our trash, and pooping on our driveway. And I am pondering killing him. And making a sweet sexy rug for my bedroom.

Others
I am so so grateful for other adults in my children's lives. When people asked me why I don't think I went super crazy as a teenager, I attribute it a little a lot to my parents, and even more so to their wisdom in putting other adults they trusted that WERE NOT THEM, into my life.

It was essential for me to have other adults. Adults who gave me love and praise that I did not and/or could not receive from my parents. Adults they knew and trusted, and that I loved.

I am so grateful for having other adults in my children's lives. And they're still little. I believe our friendship with so many amazing people is benefiting my children more than I could ever imagine. Demetrius' very first case-worker is now a close friend. She knew him before we knew him, she knows what he looked like as an infant, and has stories of he and his birth-mom that I don't. Her friendship is an unspeakable joy in my life, and I know she will be a part of the village that is helping to raise up this amazing man!

We have bad-ass pastor friends that hunt and shoot guns, and stop bad-guys, and they will always be cooler than us, and I am so grateful for them. They will speak Jesus into our kid's lives like I never could.

We have a single friend who loves on my kids like they were her own, she spoils them and gives them all the stuff that I forget to do. And she makes them feel wonderful. When a kid get's in trouble by David, they cry for me. When a kid gets in trouble by me, they cry for David. But when a kid gets in trouble from both of us, they cry for her. And it melts my heart, and is worth eternity that they have someone like that.

I LOVE sitting at football practice and watching the coaches teach my boys about responsibility and being a good friend to everyone, and all the lessons I try to teach them everyday. I love that there are big strong black men modeling for my sons what it means to be a big strong black man.
And I could go on and on.

I am pondering how on earth we got so blessed to be surrounded by the village of amazing adults that we have, because Lord knows, it will take a village.

Hustling

There's been a lot of hustling around here lately.

And sometimes as a mom, the one who is suppose to make the world make sense, the one who is the kisser of boo-boos and the wiper of tears, the one who sings them to sleep, and wakes them with mango juice and fresh eggs, the one who determines the fate of desserts and night time rituals, it is unbearable to watch my kids hustle for their worthiness.

And yet even in my prideful reality of believing that I could fix it, if just...
I realize that I am hustling too.
It's not my job to heal my kids.
It's not my job to protect them.
It's not my job to try and make-up for the losses they've endured.
I can't hustle hard enough, or fast enough, or long enough.

I just can't.

And it's so offensive to me.
Because if I could, I would.
I would make up for everything that they've lost.
I would wipe away the hurt and pain.
I would erase rejection from their souls.

Because hustling is no way to live.
Hustling is exhausting.
Hustling is ugly.
Hustling is consuming.

As a mom to kids from the hard places, this is the hardest part. Injecting worthiness and hope into children whose stories have so far told them the opposite.
I've mentioned here before that shifting foundations is slow and tedious work. And I just have to keep reminding myself of this.

I am not at all hope-less.
I am not at all defeated.
But I have been hustling.
Their stories are now my stories.
And I need to find my path in them.
Not stand outside their stories and hustle to help them find their worthiness.
But stand with them, in their pain, and remember, it is our story now.
And God promises to complete the story.

The Art of Playful Engagement

 I woke up on the wrong side of the bed the other day. Which means all of us did. I had only been up about an hour, when I realized that this day was going to go on the books of bad attitudes and negativity if I didn't do something to turn this ship around.

Now in another life, I would just go back to bed. I would sleep for another hour or two, and then take a shower alone, it would be warm, and no one would bust down the door trying to tell on anyone. Then I would have a quiet cup of tea with warm eggs and read a book, in quiet. Until my over-tired body woke up and I started this beautiful day with a smile. 

But I don't live in that world. 

At five am, my husbands alarm went off.

Then at around six my lovely, naked (as per usual) three year old came to snuggle me, he slipped under the covers and backed up into me. Then he turned his head and kissed me and said, "Mama, there is poop all over my bed and all over my bum."

That was the beginning of this day. 

And it went on from there. 

Kids refusing to get dressed for school. 

Snobby chef inspired children who were critiquing my over easy eggs, that I had "ruined their natural bitterness with all this garlic salt! Next time just use the chopped onion! And DON'T flip them!"

My little blessings were feeling more like God's plagues. What have I done that you must smite me Lord?!

I knew I had to restart the day. 

And then it came to me. The angels were singing and the lights from heaven were shinning down on me, as I started an aria about the water cups that my three year old had left in the middle of the kitchen floor. He had just finished throwing a fit because he wanted to get it on his own, and I'd let him, just for him to turn around and put it on the floor, get another, and fill it, then place it on the floor. By the time I had walked backed into the kitchen there were six glasses full of water in the middle of the floor. 

And so it began. 

A bel canto that went something like this, "You wanted A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a glass of water. You wanted A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a glass of water. You wanted to get it by yourself. Now you have gotten the whole neighborhood glasses of water, and my kitchen has become a splash zone. PLEEEEEEEASE dump them ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL out in the sink. NOwwwwwwwwwww (I held out now for a super long time.) And put every single glass back in the cupboard. 

All of the kids froze. It was a moment from heaven. 

And then all of us started laughing, for a long time. 

And thus it had begun. 

The rest of the day was filled with song. It was like being at the grand opera. There was emotion, tears, falsetto, crescendo, there was laughter, and drama. 

There were songs about practicing dribbling in the kitchen (for unending hours at a time), there were repetitive motif's about the toothbrush heads I find all over the house, in beds, and in DVD cases, in bathtubs, and music boxes, the toothbrush heads are everywhere except in the bathroom. 

There were many melodramas touching subjects from homework, to genital cleaning procedures, to sharing trains, to lessons on reactional behavior. 

And if nothing else, it kept me calm, and laughing, instead of angry, and upset. When you are constantly bursting into song, you can't go there. It kept me calm. And laughing. 

When I teach TBRI® Correction Principles I always emphasis level one, Playful Engagement. It is the beginning. This is how we should always begin to correct behavior in children. Because most often, they know. They know they've made a bad choice, and they wish they could take it back. SO just a playful, "Whoa Nelly!" or an over exaggerated British accent "Excuse me sir?!" Or whatever else, works for you. That makes your kids smile, that makes you feel ridiculous, and forces a smile out of you too. That is where we should all begin with correction. Because often times, when we don't go straight into attack mode, when we laugh, that's all it takes. Do you know the brain HAS to be fully engaged to laugh, to find humor. And when the brain is fully engaged is when we learn the most, and the quickest. It only takes 12 repetitions about the toothbrush heads in song. But when I scream, it can take over 350 repetitions. 

Early in the day I put up a Facebook post about my new parenting strategy. My friend suggested I try rapping as well. I was afraid that would encourage my cursing. You see it is so hard to use foul language when singing opera. But she uses it like this: "I said a hip hip a hippity hop. You bettah clean up yo room or I won't stop. " 

So try it? Whatever works for you. For me it's opera. I feel that I can add more drama and umph. For you maybe it's rap? Or country? 

But whatever you try, I bet it will help keep things light, and fun in your home. And I know we all want more of that.

(Side note, after a morning of singing I found this going on in the basement. Apparently they wanted me to just let it go! This is the first time I've ever heard Charli sing.)

A place at the table.

One of our kiddo's self talk is really bad.
I've talked before about the attachment cycle, a baby cries and a tender, responsive, and consistent care giver is suppose to respond, every time. This cycle of, I have a need- I get upset... You hear me, you come- you help me calm, this is the attachment cycle. This cycle happens hundreds of thousands of times in an infants first year of life, and it lays the foundation for self-worth, self-efficacy, and mental health.

Unfortunately, three of our five kiddos didn't get this ground work laid correctly. And we are working to help shift and replace their foundations. I consider it one of our most important roles.

The negative self talk is heart breaking for me and comes from this experience of: I cried and no one came, I do not matter. Or I cried and someone came and treated me poorly, thus I am bad. The way I often describe it is this, most children walk into a room and assume everyone in that room adores them, and wants to hear all about their minecraft explorations, or worm digging, or football practice, they assume that they are the center of the universe. And so it should be.

Many kids who didn't have the correct attachment foundations don't feel this way. They walk into a room and assume they are disliked. They assume that they are the worst, or the stupid-est, or the one everyone is laughing at. And so many times any correction, or rule enforcing comes across as a direct confirmation to them that their worst fears are true.
"I knew I was the worst one."
"I knew she didn't like me."

Recently the negative self talk had taken a turn for the worse with one of our sweet babies. So we began talking with him regularly about how his choices, whether good or bad, do not effect our view of him. We talk with him regularly about how our love is constant, just like Papa God's.

Its been interesting to see his development as this truth has begun to take hold in his heart.

Yesterday I totally messed up with him and flipped my lid. As I was apologizing (a few minutes later) I asked him, "Do you still love me?"
He looked up at me as if I were crazy.
"Of course!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.
As I pulled him in tight I whispered, "Thank you! That is exactly how I feel whenever you make a poor choice. Of course I still love you! I will never stop loving you."

He asks for reminders about his status of unconditional love. What I have found most interesting is this, he often asks at dinner.
He still needs confirmation of his spot at the table.

He doesn't ask in times of trouble, and he doesn't ask in times of joy. He asks during the everyday moment in which we gather to feed our bodies and pour into each others souls.  The time when he looks around and can tangibly see each person's spot. He can actually see all of us, at once, fitting together, tucking ourselves around the table. And it is in these times when he feels our closeness as a unit, that he still doubts his place.

And that makes me cry.

And yet, what I love, is that now, instead of sitting there silently questioning his worth and his belonging. He reminds himself.
Sometimes it is a quiet whisper I hear him saying to just himself as he waits for his turn to talk about his day, and sometimes it is a declaration that he makes to all of us. "You guys love me no matter what!"

Progress is slow when you're shifting foundations.
But progress is progress.

Yikes. Messing Up.

It seems as of late I have been posting often about parenting and things I find important. And I just want to make sure that I haven't put myself up on any sort of pedestal.

I mess up often.

Knowledge and wisdom are worlds apart. Often times for me, in my parenting journey, the road between knowledge and wisdom (The way I've defined wisdom is: appropriately applied knowledge.) is long and winding, and sometimes I get lost, or stall out? 

Last night In the wee hours of the morning today, I totally messed up.

I often times raise my voice when it is unnecessary. Last night, after the fifteenth time my (almost) three year old got up and came running in to my room to tell me he had to pee, I told him he was idiot. 

(Insert disappointed gasp here.)

(Or acknowledged smirk of possession.)

In our house we practice re-dos. Or more appropriately, we practice grace. 

You know, when so and so demands juice. Or whose-it "accidentally" runs into his brother, after his brother declines his invitation to play his game, his way.

Instead of sending the offender to their room, (which in my opinion sends the message "When you mess up, when you're ugly, we don't want you."), or dooling out lofty consequences that often time burden me much more than my children, we try a re-do. 

A mere, "Whoa buddy, try it again!"

Or, "Yikes! You must be angry? Can you tell us what you're feeling with your words, instead of with your body?"

Sometimes its a, "My ears cannot hear you when you speak disrespectfully, can you please try that again?"

And most of the time it's just a simple, "Would you like a re-do?"

There is a scientific reason why the do-over is effective. The science geek phrase, "What fires together wires together!"

Don't you love that?! 

What it means is this, when 'a' happens, and you do 'b'. It creates a neural pathway in your brain. So every time that 'a' happens, and you do 'b', that pathway gets deeper and deeper. Pretty soon, when 'a' happens, 'b' has already begun. 

You know that term, "I am stuck in a rut." 

That could be literal when we talk about our brains. We make ruts in our brains, some of these are really good, but some of them are bad. 

That is why we do re-dos. 

We not only avoid other more extreme consequences which often lead to dis-connection, but we also make a NEW neural pathway (and all of us science nerds cheer wildly). So that eventually, when 'a' happens, 'b' happens to be a great socially adaptive, respectable, and safe reaction! This allows us to teach, and correct, without loosing connection.

I did say eventually, because it takes a normally developed, calm, fully engaged brain, ,about 360 repetitions to create this new nerual pathway or FREEWAY! 

But here is an awesome trick: In play it takes, on average, ONLY 12 repetitions to create a new neural pathway! 

(And the science nerds go CRAZY!!!!)

This is why we try to correct behaviors with playful interaction!!!! 

The "Whoa buddy" said in a funky horse voice. 

Or the "Would you like a re-do?" in my best Scoobydoo impression. 

The dramatic "My ears cannot hear..." said in a staunch British accent (while pretending to faint)... 

Keep the brain fully engaged, and help learning new behaviors happen more quickly.

Plus there are more "serious" ways to be playful too! (Leave it to us grown ups to be serious about play.)

Whether we are attempting to learn new behaviors around problems we are encounter on a daily basis (like homework time, cleaning up the basement, or getting ready for school) with puppets, or dramatic character skits, it gets the message across, FASTER! 

So as I lay in my bed this morning after yelling at my two year old and calling him an idiot, the moon shining directly in the window above my pillow casting a eery glow on my dark and messy room, my heart continued racing because my adrenalin was still high, and my thoughts followed suit. I was remembering almost word for word this article I had read recently from the Huffington Post about how important our words are, and how yelling at our children is so terrible... As if I needed the reminder. 

It is all true. I don't disagree with her in anyway. 

But I was feeling so ashamed, ridden with guilt. This isn't the first time I have yelled at this sweet boy. (I mean, it was the first time today, because it was only 1 am...) And I was feeling really disgusting. And then I remembered some more science...

Did you know that when there is a connection between two individuals and it gets ruptured, when it is repaired neurotransmitters fire that actually deepen that connection and cause joy and happiness?! 

I quickly got up and scooped up that boy and brought him into my bed. I told him how sorry I was for being disrespectful and hurtful. I told him that when he looks into my eyes, I want him to himself. I want his preciousness to be found there. I want to reflect to him what his Heavenly Father sees in him. 

And I hadn't. 

And I was sorry.

There are things I really need to work on. And I'll never arrive. It's about the journey. 

And luckily, my children have allowed me do-overs too. 

Thank God for grace. 

(This video talks about the science of repairing a relationship, it's awesome!)

This. Is. Important.

Today we applied for Laila's passport.
It is suppose to arrive on Christmas day.
There is no better present I would like to give my children.
I told Laila today, "This means the world is now your playground! Where do you want to play first?"
She robustly responded, "Smart Cow!" (our local frozen yogurt shoppe.)

So maybe she doesn't quite understand the magnitude of the "whole world" yet. But I know she will.

I told David, this is such an important day for her, as important as the day she gets her drivers license, or even gets married. It is so significant. (He knows I'm fairly dramatic.)

Helping my children understand the world, and explore it all, has always been a huge goal of mine. Some of my best memories, and perhaps some of the most defining, in my life all correspond with a stamp, sticker, or punch in my passport. 

To me a passport is a really big deal.
I got a little emotional when we left the office.
To me a passport means... the world!

My parents did a wonderful job of helping my sister and I explore the world. And my grandmother has always been the source of my "gypsy blood" as my mom calls it. You see, she told my grandfather that she would not marry him unless he took her on an airplane. He was a man of his word, so they wed in July 1947 and hopped on a plane from Oklahoma City to Tulsa.

And she hasn't stopped since. She has been to all of the continents, and has taken her grandchildren with her to many of her destinations. When I was eleven she told me to pick anywhere in the world, and we would go. So we went to Spain, Portugal and Morocco. We still talk about that trip. And a few special stories.

It was on that trip, after a particular meal of pigeon and leeks in Morocco that many of our tour group mates were grumbling. When we returned to our hotel, which had open windows as the sand and winds blew in off the Moroccan coast, a woman in our group started complaining to my grandma about the sand on the floor, my grandma tells the story of me looking at the woman and saying, with all the innocence and honesty that eleven year olds produce, "If you wanted this to be like America why didn't you stay home?"

I remember being a little scared but mostly completely fascinated as we watched the easter parades in the streets of madrid (Think KKK meets bloody jesus statues, and ornate floats being carried on the backs of hundreds of old men).
I remember riding a camel into the sunset in Morocco, and being on my first nude beach.
I remember wandering the markets of europe with my grandma following closely behind me hoping I would remember the way back as I searched for the perfect gem to take home.
I remember riding the bus into the cobblestone streets, sure we would be wedged between the buildings.
I remember eating olives off the trees in Portugal and standing in the same spot that once Christopher Columbus had stood.
I remember watching snake charmers in Africa.
And tortoises in the Galapagos.
I remember my sister and I trying fruits we'd never heard of in Ecuador.
I remember her and I swimming with sharks and holding hands squealing into our masks.
I remember standing in the Colosseum and shuddering.
I remember feeling the walls of the catacombs in rome and crying.
And sitting in the ruins of a public bathe in Sardinia.
Mostly I remember the palpable feeling of history, of depth, of understanding, and purpose.
And each time, my world being put more and more into perspective.
Whether I was hiking the Great wall of China, or feeding orphans in Africa, the world was becoming smaller.
With each trip, stamp, and sticker, I saw God's plan. I saw God's people. I saw what was important and what wasn't. The cross-cultural importance of relationships, family, education, and unconditional love. Every trip helped bring me back home. To what matters.

As a teenager, I would say without a doubt, it was through my travel around the world, and my faith, that I realize how unimportant highschool really was, how important and wonderful my relationship with my parents and family was, and how much I really loved my home.

I still have my passports from growing up, my very first one that was issued at around four months of age, to the one I had to get extra pages for in my busy traveling years, to my current one. And I still look through them all! Each of those stamps, stickers, visas, and punches has a lot of power. A lot of stories a lot of meaning, a lot of depth and purpose.

I want my children to be citizens of the world. Not in a new world order kind of way. But in a, I live my life with perspective, kind of way.

The perspective that only comes from experiencing other cultures and realizing how small it all really is.

This is so important to David and I.

Do you have something that you want to instill in your children, something that is so important? How do you signify it?

Bottom Line Behavior

Another facebook message feed erupted on my (and other friends) time lines recently, it was about parenting again. Surprised?

We all take this parenting stuff pretty personally.
Unfortunately, we take it so personally we often times don't go into any discussion with an open mind.

We sense judgement, whether real, or imagined, and so we put up our dukes.

It makes this parenting dialogue so hard.
And I don't like upsetting people, and I don't like defending myself, so I backed out for a while.

But that was fear.
So I jumped back in with another "risky" facebook post that got people up in arms!

One lady even wrote, "I don't care what research or scientists have to say about...."
Okay, we're done then.
If you can't hear facts, without feeling offended, no one can have a conversation.

A pattern arose on my feed, as well as others who posted the same article, people were continually bringing up as their , "proof" that their parenting styles/decisions "worked" was their child's behavior.
"I used ______ strategy and it has worked because my children are very well behaved" (children are under 5 years of age).
"I can tell when other people haven't used _________ strategy because of their children's behaviors."

This really upset me, so I disengaged (part of my attachment past:)
I didn't know why I was so upset by these statements, I couldn't put my finger on it. So I have spent the last few weeks praying about this, and trying to figure out why these behavior statements upset me.
And I came to this question in my mind,

"Is the bottom line to your parenting strategy behavior?" 

And my answer is "Absolutely not!"

To me, aiming for "good behavior" is like the gospel being cut short, like really short, like maybe right before the New Testament starts.

Right before Jesus shows us it's about relationships, and love when it's least deserved, right before we realize that no matter what we choose, no matter what behaviors we display, God is constant.

I believe that parenting is suppose to be a worldly picture of how God loves us. In that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). In that, perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18), and that we don't shame or disappoint (Romans 5:5) because we hold the hope of Christ.

This idea that we prove our parenting strategies by our children's behaviors, and ultimately, their choices, is very scary to me.

Fundamentally this terrifies me because if that's the bottom line in my parenting, I have surely proved that my Heavenly Father is a terrible father. I have surely proved that His parenting strategies are wrong. Because my choices and behaviors don't often reflect His heart or desires for me.

And ultimately, I have taught my kids that the love of our Father is based on behavior. That if my ultimate goal in parenting is their behavior (thus my severe punishment or disappointment when they misbehave), that God's ultimate goal in parenting is our behavior. And that is untrue.

If that's what my kids walk away with, when they leave my home, I have done my part in raising children who will never fully believe the Gospel. Who will never fully give or receive unconditional love.  Because they ultimately believe that their faith relies on their choices and on their behaviors, two things that they are responsible for. Not Christ's blood. Not His sacrifice.

I think this form of parenting (specifically in Christian circles), in which we equate our success with our children's behaviors and choices, comes out of an American church that has taught us the same. We don't rest, we earn. We don't show up messy, we cover it up. We can't be honest with others, or even ourselves, in fear of judgement and condemnation.
And so we parent this way. And we judge others parenting from this lens.
(Which makes the church a very unsafe place for parents who have children who are struggling behaviorally.)

Behavior should not be my ultimate goal.
My children's behavior and ultimately their choices, do not reflect on me. My love is constant and firm, despite them. (Just as Jesus loves us, despite us.)

So what is my ultimate goal in parenting?

My bottom line is relationship.

I want to see that when my children misbehave, choose incorrectly, hurt people, throw fits, or disobey, that my relationship is constant. That despite their choices/behaviors I am the same. My love has not wavered, my availability to meet their needs, comfort, rejoice, pray, celebrate, or cuddle, is always the same. Just like Jesus is for me.

Because ultimately, I don't want moral kids who believe they must earn a spot. I want messy kids who are alive in the freedoms of Christ.

20 Questions

Twenty questions, remember that game? You tried to figure out if the person your sister was thinking of was a famous historical figure, your dog, or the boy band singer she was crushing on…  It was a game you played as a kid, during road trips, sitting on airplanes, or in doctors offices. It was fun, but only as a last resort, when all other games had been exhausted. As an adoptive mom, I sometimes feel as if I live my life inside of the 20 Questions game, except I want to re-name it Infinity Questions!

I realize all moms have a period of living inside the question game (usually with your three year old), but for us adoptive moms this phase can last much longer. Many adopted children have lived in chaos for so long before coming home that they need to control their environment so tightly in order to prevent feeling out of control. Many times this manifests as the “Question Game” as we have affectionately coined it in our house! Often times our children will ask many many questions, repetitively. And this is a result of them being afraid, they feel out of control. They want to understand every situation, every sound, every facial expression. They want to know every car that drives by, every noise they hear, and where every one is and why, at all times. This can be an exhausting place to live. Answering questions all day long, the same questions day in and day out, while you remain consistent, mellow, and compassionate, every single time. Super hard. 

When our son Demetrius first came home he was obsessed with cars. We lived on a busy street in our small town, and although I did know a good number of the people who drove by on a regular basis, I surely did not know every single car, who was in it, where they were going, and why. But Demetrius would stand in our living room and watch the cars go by and ask, sometimes over two hundred times a day, 

“Who was that?”

“Whose red car is that?”

“Who was in that white truck?”

“Where is she going?”

All. Day. Long.

 You see, we were his seventh home, and he was not yet three years old. Cars meant change to him, and he needed to know what change was coming, when, and why. And so I consistently answered his questions. Over and over, and over again. After what seemed like years, but was only a few short months the car questions began to slow down. But by this time he also knew what cars the important people drove. He knew when my husband was home, or gone. He knew when my mom was coming, and he knew when the case worker was pulling in. He knew the G.A.L’s car, and the therapist’s cars, he knew them all.

This was just a window into his heart. A window into his past, and how out of control his little world had felt. He was showing us that these things were important to him. 

When he started school again a few years ago, the questions began once again. But this time it was, “Who is picking me up from school today?” I was baffled, I pick him up from school everyday. I was trying to answer this question, sometimes eighty times in the hthee hour time frame, between when he awoke in the morning and I dropped him off at school, without showing my annoyance. I was sending him to school with a laminated picture of me to remind him when he forgot during class, I was letting him draw pictures of who picked him up every day, I was calling the school to remind him, and I was trying to answer this one question the same way every time. But all I wanted to do was scream, “MEEEEEE! It’s always ME!!!!! What is so hard about that? Why don’t you understand???”

Thankfully on a cold morning in October I got my answer. He asked me again, while eating his oatmeal, mouth full and berries smeared on his cheeks, “Who is picking me up from school today?” I am pretty sure this was about the 20^th time he’d asked that morning. “I am picking you up Demetrius. I promise. Why do you ask?” 

He dropped his spoon into his bowl and I remember watching the milk splash on the window as he started, “ I remember when I went to school and my Megan Mom was suppose to pick me up. But instead Miss Jessica picked me up and brought me to your house…” He then went on to describe his entire first day at our house. The clothes he was wearing, the place I was standing when he walked in, what they talked about in the car on the ride over, crossing the street as he looked into our windows, and of course, the model, make, and color of Miss Jessica’s car. 

I wanted to cry, I wanted to melt, the frustration I had been feeling towards him, my lack of patience with his never ending question, my lack of empathy. It was all choking me in that moment, and it came out as a sob. I was so grateful, I had finally gotten my answer.   

Throughout the years he has been home we will occasionally see this behavior resurface. Usually there is no pattern and we don’t know why. Yet I know each time, it is a glimpse into his past, a picture of what he has been through, and a step towards our healing. So I have become grateful for the questions, eager for the answers, and anxious for the insight. 

Be the change.

I think all of us have a part of who we are that needs to give back. A piece of us that wants to be a part of something bigger than us. Thus we all search for avenues in which we feel called to help, donate, give, and speak up for. Ways we can lend a hand, a dollar, or a voice.

Some of us have found our niche in a fight against something that threatened our existence, whether it be cancer, a syndrome, a war, or an injustice. We've found our heart strings tied with the fatherless, the hungry, the poor, the destitute. We've seen the brokenness and poverty that lies within our cities. We've reached out to help where and when we can.

The more and more I learn about the depravity that exists in our beautiful world, the more I find a common thread.

Women.

There'd be a lot less orphans if women across the globe were empowered to earn money and have equal access.
There'd be a lot less poverty if women were educated.
There'd be a lot less disease if women were educated.
There'd be a lot less trafficking if women were valued.
There'd be a lot less war if women were in powerful positions along with men.
There'd be a lot less violence if women were made to know their worth.

As Bernard Kouchner the founder of Doctors Without Borders put it, "Progress is achieved through women."

I believe that all of us, no matter where out personal heart strings may tie, no matter where our causes may lie, we must empower women in order to achieve it.

Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn put it this way in their amazing book Half the Sky, "Let us be clear about this up front: we hope to recruit you to join an incipient movement to emancipate women and fight global poverty by unlocking women's power as economic catalysts. That is the process underway- not a drama of victimization but of empowerment, the kind that transforms bubbly teenage girls from brothel slaves into successful business women."

You see I want to be apart of that. I want to be a part of empowering women to change the world.

And I don't have a master plan. Or even a novice plan. But I do have a voice. So I'll start with that.

I am hosting a screening of a documentary film called "It's A Girl". This film takes a specific look at what this vast inequity looks like specifically in India and China:

In India, China and many other parts of the world today, girls are killed, aborted and abandoned simply because they are girls. The United Nations estimates as many as 200 million girls⁽¹⁾ are missing in the world today because of this so-called “gendercide”.

Girls who survive infancy are often subject to neglect, and many grow up to face extreme violence and even death at the hands of their own husbands or other family members.

The war against girls is rooted in centuries-old tradition and sustained by deeply ingrained cultural dynamics which, in combination with government policies, accelerate the elimination of girls.

Shot on location in India and China, It’s a Girl reveals the issue. It asks why this is happening, and why so little is being done to save girls and women.

The film tells the stories of abandoned and trafficked girls, of women who suffer extreme dowry-related violence, of brave mothers fighting to save their daughters’ lives, and of other mothers who would kill for a son. Global experts and grassroots activists put the stories in context and advocate different paths towards change, while collectively lamenting the lack of any truly effective action against this injustice.

My hope for today is to bring light to this darkness. To use my voice to let people know that this is happening. If you would like to see this film please join us in Castle Rock, CO on Thursday May 23rd at 5:30 pm, at the AMC theatre. Purchase your tickets here. They are $10 and we must pre-sell 75 tickets in the next two weeks in order for the theatre to confirm our screening.

Here is the official trailer:

I am also working with teaming up with other organizations to help bring an end to gender in-equality. To help raise up the daughters of this world to know, that they are the answer we've been missing.
And I will have more on this soon!

Laila Lou is Four!

Today this precious girl is four!

I can't believe we have been privileged enough to celebrate three birthdays with her. It seems surreal. Only a few short weeks after she moved in she turned two. And when I look back at that little girl, I can't believe how far we've come. As a family, as a mom and daughter, as a team.

She has come so far. She was such a scared and hurt little girl when she arrived. She had suffered far more than I even knew at that point.

And now I look at her and I am just overwhelmed with the goodness of God. How far he has brought her (and us) in such a short time. How much He has shown me through her.

Today is a special day for her in so many ways. Last night I let her stay up (because her and I watch the Voice together, for a bit.) and I started talking to her about her story. And reminding her that her birthday is the day we celebrate that she came out of her Niah-Mommy's tummy (name changed). So we talked about her Niah Mommy for a while. And then we settled back in to our show. And I couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed. Thinking of all that God has brought this powerful little girl through in such a short time that she has been here. And yet her story is really just beginning.

If you've read this blog for a while you might remember my new years resolutions for my kids... With Laila we decided that this would be the year that she learns her power and preciousness. That we would help her find her voice...

Well, we're nearly five months in and yesterday we had our first public victory!

David went to pick up Laila from school and the teacher pulled him aside. She said, "I am going to ask you a question in front of Laila on purpose so she can hear your answer. Okay?"

We have a little history with the teacher and have asked her to only speak to us about our kids behaviors away from the kids...
"Okay." Said David hesitantly.

She then went on, "Now Dad Laila said that her mom says it is okay for her to hit people... Is that true? Can Laila hit people? Because she said her mommy said she can hit people."

YES!
Laila hit a class mate.
It wasn't what we were going for.
But the point is, Laila has found her voice. She is no longer throwing fits, or acting like an infant. She is no longer crying and pointing when she has a need, and she is no longer letting people hurt her.
She is using her voice!

(Now obviously we had to remind her that we don't hit our friends when they knock over our castle. We use our words.... And reminded her that the only time it is okay to push people is if they will not stop hurting your body when you ask them to. You see, we all do this with most 18-36 month olds. They hit, because they are learning how to tell people how they like to be treated. It's a normal developmental stage. Unfortunately Laila never felt that anyone would listen to her boundaries about her body... So we are teaching her now that she is precious and powerful, and you can read more about it here.)

So today we celebrate this amazing little girl and the story she has yet to write with her amazing life. We love you Laila Lou and we are so honored to be Mommy and Daddy.

An Interview with Laila:
What is your Favorite color?
Blue.

Who is  your favorite sibling?
Charli because she is getting bigger like that.

What is your favorite thing to do?
Play.

What is your favorite food?
Ummm.... Strawberries, and skittles, and jelly beans.

Tell me about the most amazing thing you've ever done.
Eat candy and eat strawberries.

Is there anything else you want to tell people on your birthday?
Yes. I want to tell them that I am getting a new chair for you.

Ninja Turtles and Massages: ways to heal attachment.

I promised a follow up to my post yesterday. And I've already had a lot of emails and questions. And my answer to all of them, "Trust your gut". What do you think your baby needs? Do that.

A lot of questions about "crying it out".
I believe that we learn our children's cries fairly quickly. We know what a scared cry, a hungry cry, a tired cry, and a hurt cry sounds like. If you lay your baby down for a nap and she cries for one minute and then falls asleep that's not letting her cry it out. That could be what's normal for your baby. I don't know, you're her mama. Trust yourself.

When I refer to crying it out I am referring to what has been coined "Ferberizing" or "Ferbering" which is a sleep method created by a man named Richard Ferber. It teaches how to train your child to sleep through the night by letting them cry for five minutes, then going in and patting them on the back, singing, or whatever ways you can calm them without holding them. Then you leave and let them cry for ten minutes and repeat, then you let them cry for twenty minutes, etc. with a strong willed child, this can last all night long, sometimes for up to seven nights. (It is also common during this "training" that babies get an ear infection at some point due to the congestion caused by crying.) That is letting them cry it out.

(Here is a lengthy article that summarizes Ferbering and the lasting effects.)

As far as scheduling goes: I love them. I have five little kids, we couldn't function without our schedule. And my infant has a schedule. But if she wants to eat and its only been an hour since she did last, and I know she's not tired, and she's dry, and she's not in pain, I let her! I go through my mental checklist first. But I know her, and I know her signs and if I know she's hungry, then she gets to eat!

A lot of people mentioned Baby Wise, or Growing Kids God's Way. I did not. Mostly because they have recently had to change a lot of their language and such and their books are no longer as strict as they used to be as a result of all the negative medical attention as well as scientific attachment attention they were receiving. As a result, their books are a little less black and white as they used to be, and more grey, like the real world. If you attend a class with this label it can really depend what type of information you get based on how black and white the teacher sees these things. I believe there are a lot of things about it, that if used in moderation, or with the whole child in mind, will work. Unfortunately a lot of people just leave with "the schedule" ingrained in them.

I have had twelve children under the age of three in the last three years. (We do foster care and have adopted, and birthed one of our own during this time period.) And only two of them have had the start that I believe every baby should get. And none of them have experienced a great prenatal atmosphere (Which is an entirely different and important post!). All of that to say, I have made it my mission to learn and study how we can heal our babies!

Whether you're an adoptive or foster mom like me, and know that your kiddo didn't have an attentive, nurturing, and loving care giver consistently throughout their first days, months, or years. Or you are a bio mom, like me, who has realized since having her babies that you made a couple big mistakes. Here is what we need to know: we all heal our babies, and ourselves the same, through connection.

I also want to highlight another group of moms, moms who have either had premature babies, or babies who were born with birth defects, or for some other reason needed severe medical care as an infant. (I have one of these.) Unfortunately their little brains look the same as the brains of babies who have been abused or neglected. Do you know why? Because infants don't know the difference between medically necessary pain, and abuse. Their brains don't understand the difference between medically necessary incubation and neglect. Their brains just registered, you hurt me, I cried, you didn't stop it. Or maybe you couldn't even touch them for a few weeks or months when they were born. Their brains didn't register that was because you were trying to save their life. Their brains registered neglect and pain.

Okay breathe.
Because their is so much hope. And so much we can do.

Healing Ourselves
A very very important aspect of attaching with our kiddos is understanding our own attachments and coming to terms with our story. Your own attachment history will greatly influence the way you care for your children. In fact, research shows that for most peolpe whatever attachment they tested at 12 months of age, they will keep throughout their life. Therefore someone who grew up with an insecure attachment may not have the same ability to provide the consistent, nurturing, responsiveness to their infant that would help their infant obtain a secure attachment. Simply because they do not know how to do this, it was never modeled to them, and this has therefore changed their view of what is appropriate or correct.

All of that to say, if we are aware of our selves and what we experienced, or have a lack of experience with, we will be able to better care for our children. A great resource if you feel that part of your journey in bringing healing to the children in your life is to come to terms with, and obtain an "earned secure" attachment for yourself is a wonderful book by Daniel Siegel and Mary Hartzell called Parenting from the Inside Out. There are also therapists trained specifically in attachment that you can seek out. (I personally had an Adult Attachment Interview(AAI) and have studied how our own attachments effect our parenting, it is a huge piece of the puzzle in my opinion.) There is a short assessment you can take here that will give you a brief idea of what attachment style you have across multiple different relationships. All of this is huge in how we see our children and how we can clearly decipher what they need.

Touch
We must touch our children. Physical touch is just like air and water to humans. Yet for those of us trying to repair an attachment, it is even more important. Depending on the age of your child this will look differently. But touch is powerful. Studies recently have shown that daily massage is STOPPING the progression of Alzheimer's!

If you have an infant there are many infant massage classes or DVDs you can look into. But I always encourage massage! It is shown to help integrate the brain (One of the things that we see happen when children are left to cry it out is that the two hemispheres of the brain do not communicate with one another the way they should.) and it floods the child, and the masseuse with dopamine, one of the strongest calming neurotransmitters and an essential element for attachment! In older children it could look like trading off back massages, or hand massages or foot massages. (This also helps in HUGE ways for babies who are detoxing for those adoptive and foster moms who are caring for drug exposed babies, this is ESSENTIAL!) and for those of you who are doing everything right, massage those chubby happy babies, it will strengthen your attachment with them and bring them lots of love:)

Attention Time
This is another strategy I use. Attention time is like nursing a baby, but for ANY age. This is a time set aside that it is just you and them, doing what they want to do. They lead.

We have scheduled attention time in our house, we have dates, which are attention time away from the house. But I try to daily do attention time in the house as well. It can be as little as ten minutes at a time, maybe two time's a day. But during this time they get to tell you what to do. You could be playing in the fort, flying a B-17, having a tea party, playing a game, lifting weights, or fixing a bike. You are looking them in the eye. You are matching their behaviors and emotions. You are following their lead, and you are on their level both physically and emotionally.

Think about when you are nursing a baby... You can't really do anything else. You are looking at them, you are touching them, you are comforting them, you are following their lead, you are talking sweetly, and you are just oozing love. That's what attention time is like, but for a six year old, or a sixteen year old.

So how does this work in my crazy house you ask? Different depending on the day. But usually I am doing this with my three oldest before quiet/nap time. Or before bed. I put them to bed in ascending order. The babies go down, then the four year old, who knows attention time is before naps, has already set up the little pet shops. So there I am playing pet shop and being a kitty cat for ten minutes (and yes I carry the timer and let them set it for ten minutes, and give them a two minute warning). I'm following her lead. I'm whispering when she whispers, she is close to me, and we're just having a blast. Then it's the five year olds turn, and off I go to fight Donatello and Michaelangelo in a fight to the death. We wrestle, we roll, we laugh, we tickle, and then as I am putting him to bed, I am massaging his arms and singing him a song and looking in his gorgeous brown eyes... And so on.

And don't get me wrong, I am totally exhausted after just thirty minutes of this. But I know my job is to help my older three heal. I want to help provide them every opportunity for a secure attachment. And if playing Ninja Turtles and giving massages is how I can do that, I'm in.

Resources
There are a lot of resources out there on this. The best thing I think you can read is The Connected Child. (We have used this book long before we had adopted or foster care kiddos).

I would also encourage you to learn about sensory needs. Often times babies who have cried it out develop sensory issues. (There are MANY reasons kids develop these so please don't start judging!) But this is a contributing factor. When their brains are flooded with those stress hormones the brain can not be integrated and work cohesively... Ways we see this in older children, and infants, is in sensory sensitivities. The best place to start is with the book The Out of Sync Child. Each chapter starts with a little assessment and it is just super user friendly. Sensory sensitivities can look like so so many things but for instance, if you have a toe walker, if you have a kid that refuses to wear socks, if you have a kid who can spin for hours without getting sick, if you have a kid who is often complaining about how loud things are, etc. this is a HUGE topic. Start with the book. (And yes we all have sensory sensitivity to some degree.) Understand, that by integrating sensory rich activities into your day you can greatly improve the brains integration and see huge strides toward healing in your children.

There is hope. There is a never a child, there is not a brain, and there is not a mama that can't change! Our brains can change. Our attachments can heal. And we can all see this happen in our homes if we continue to educate ourselves, encourage one another, and talk!




















- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Why letting your baby cry it out is not God's way.

I have written this post in my mind a hundred times. I have taught this post to many classes over and over again.But I have never put it here. Mostly because I feel like when I "teach" this to a class, or I talk to people one on one, they can hear my heart, and see my tears. And in the world of technology that is often times lost.

But a few days ago I watched a video posted on Facebook of a nursery door, and the cries of a sweet baby could be heard coming from behind the door. The caption read, "It's going to be a long night."
I had to say something. So I wrote, "Don't do it!"
You see we did it.
I know it "works".
But since then I have cried many tears as a result. I let our baby cry it out because I thought I was doing what was best. Because that's what I was taught by well meaning people. Since then I have learned the long lasting effects of letting our babies "cry it out" . It effects their brains, their hearts, and their attachment long term.
( I'm horrified at myself when I remember the Christian circles I walked in then and how we looked down upon those who chose to have their children control them, be the center of their marriage, or who just wouldn't be strict enough to teach their babies to sleep. To you, I am so so so sorry.)

All of this was racing through my mind Sunday night after I saw the Facebook post. Yet I knew I couldn't express my heart, my sorrow, and the science behind why we will never let any of our babies "cry it out" again, on a Facebook news feed. In fact the comments started rolling in.
"Baby manipulation, don't give in!"
"It's the hardest thing you'll ever do, but its worth it."
"Hard to do, but something that has to be done."
"It's harder on you than it is on her."

All friends, just trying to encourage another sleep deprived friend on this incredibly tough road we call parenthood. I know I've said all those things and more before.

But I was wrong. And I'm so sorry.

With our first baby we took "the class". We worked "the schedule". And as the time drew nearer and nearer to the six week mark I knew, we HAD to get him to sleep through the night.
I remember my entire body breaking out in a sweat. I remember my milk coming down, I remember David holding my hand, physically holding me in the bed so I wouldn't "break". Setting the timers so that I would know when I could get up and comfort him. And crying as I listened to him wail.



I often think that in America, from the very beginning of motherhood, we are taught to ignore our maternal instinct or our gut. Whether by medical "professionals" or well meaning friends, or even parents. And that's exactly what we do when we let our babies "cry it out". We ignore our gut. My body was screaming for me to go get my baby, my heart was crying to stop his cries, but I thought I had to do what I "knew" was best. When people comment "it's so hard" or "it's harder on you" that is us acknowledging that it feels so so wrong to do this.

So here is what I have learned.


Babies have needs. They weren't born manipulative, or selfish. They're not trying to mess up your marriage or your family system. They need YOU.

As you can see in my great drawing, a baby has a need, they are hungry, they express that need, they begin squirming, chewing their hands rooting, crying, you meet that need. You help them calm down. You hold them, you feed them, you rock them, you shush them, you bounce them. We do this hundreds of times each day. This cycle, that repeats itself over and over again, is the basis for trust, self-worth and efficacy.

You can also see on the outside I wrote "excitatory nt's" and "inhibitory nt's". This stands for excitatory neurotransmitters (for example norepinephrine, glutamate) and inhibitory or calming neurotransmitters (for example GABA or seratonin). These are the chemicals that are released in the body and brain during the right side of the cycle (the red side) and the left side (the blue side). On the right side, when our children are hungry for example, they begin to cry, their brains are flooded with stress hormones, these are the things that make their hearts race, their screams get louder, their faces red, their pupils dialate. These are the same neurotransmitters that flood the brain in fight, flight, or freeze mode. This is a stress situation.

But then we come.
We feed them, we rock them, we shush them. This is how we teach our children to calm down. This is how we build the foundation of mental health and self regulation, and trust, and self worth.
(Did you know that the largest, percent-wise, area of growth in a woman's body while she is pregnant is the synapsis in her brain for hearing?! We were created to HEAR OUR BABIES!)

When we do not respond to our children's cry the only thing we teach them is that their voice does not matter to us. That we will not hear them. They will stop crying. I promise. And you will have a full nights sleep around six to eight weeks. You will.
But it will be at a cost.

There are several studies I could talk about here. Ones where they put baby monkeys in a separate cage at night and didn't let their moms feed them. The monkeys became psychotic, they had less brain connections than those who were raised with their moms attending to them when they cried. Or others of gagged orphans, or babies who were not held when they cried.

But there is one I want to talk about, the research by Provence and Lupton. They found that within 30-60 days of an infants needs not being met when they cry, they will stop crying.
It doesn't mean they don't have the need.
It doesn't mean that we have "trained" them how to sleep.
It means we have taught them that their needs do not matter to us. That we will not come. (And the psychological research that has been done as a result of this message being sent to our children was done by Megan Gunnar at the University of Michigan, and it is so great, I don't want to talk about it here in fear of making most of us feel awful.)
But they stop crying. And we get to sleep.

Yet their little bodies still have the needs, those didn't go away when we stripped them of their voice. They're still hungry, or just a little scared, or cold, or hot, or wet.

Their brains are not developed in a way yet for them to possibly calm themselves. Not until three YEARS is this even physiologically possible, and truly this portion of the brain doesn't fully mature until around age 30!!

So whats happening to all of our babies that we've "trained" to sleep through the night?
Remember this.


Our babies are living on the right side of this chart. Their brains are being flooded with all those stress hormones, which act like bleach to the brain when they get too much without the calming neurotransmitters flooding over them. They are actually designed to almost paralyze the upper portions, the learning, expression, attachment, parts of our brains so that we only use our fight fight or freeze, base area.
Studies show, that although a baby who has been "trained" to sleep through the night, will not cry (and even sometimes, they won't show the physical signs of being awakened), their brains will still flood with these stress hormones. Their pulse will increase, they will begin to sweat, etc. But because they believe that their voice does not matter, they will not cry... This is still happening even thought we've taught them that we won't respond. So they live on the right side.

We don't want our children living in this place.
I know none of us want this. None of us hope that we paralyze our children's brain and incapacitate it to function properly or lack cohesiveness. None of us hope to risk our attachment and trust that we have with our babies. None of us want to negatively effect our children's self-worth. No one wants to shake the foundations of mental health and self regulation for our children. And yet by letting them "cry it out" we do.

If I could change anything, out of the millions of mistakes I've made as a mom, this would be the one.

There are lots of resources out there.
Here is a great, all around one. If you're looking for more. Let me know.


I would love to hear your comments and such. But let's keep it constructive. I know for some reason this is a dividing line for people. But I just want to remind you, I am not a scientist. I am a mom with five kids ages 6 and under. I am in the trenches! I get it! It's so so hard!

(I will follow this up with some strategies for those of us who have already made the mistake, ways to repair attachment and heal the brain, because there is hope.)



(Thank you Karen for your moral and educational support on all this. I hope I did it justice.)