Tag Archives: fear

How I Got My Daughter to Give Up the Pacifier and Settle in to Deeper Sleep

My daughter Leah was an extremely agitated infant who slept very poorly. Our pediatrician assured us that the problem was not a medical one, but we never fully understood what had her so upset and out of sorts.

By the time she was three months old, my entire life was focused on helping her get some good sleep. I hired two sleep consultants, read every book on sleep available, but found no answers or magic cures. What I knew I could not do was leave her alone to “cry it out”. Instinctively I knew she was struggling with something that she needed my help with and I couldn’t bring myself to leave her alone.

So… I spent hours a day sitting in a rocking chair in a darkened room with her in my arms. Blackout shades and a sound machine made our bedroom a sleeping haven (at least it seemed that way to me!), but she could not succumb easily to sleep and could not stay asleep for more than ten minutes without my arms around her.  I had found that sucking appeased her quite well, and I had allowed her to grow accustomed to nursing or taking a bottle, and eventually sucking on a pacifier to stay asleep. The problem was that she couldn’t stay asleep unless something was in her mouth to suck on. I had to stay with her and keep the pacifier in her mouth or it would fall out and she’d wake and cry until I put it back in.

I knew the pacifier—and the need to suck in order to fall asleep and stay asleep—was a habit I had allowed her to develop, and that the only way she was ever going to be able to sleep deeply and independently, was if I helped her give up the pacifier. I tried some different methods I had read about—gentle ways to help a baby “ease off” the nipple so as not to require it for sleep, but the methods never seemed to work.

Around this time I learned about lovingly listening to babies cry by reading Althea Solter’s book, The Aware Baby. It reminded me that years before I had been introduced to Patty Wipfler’s approach to helping children with their feelings, and so I looked her up. I found that not only was Patty still working with parents and children, but she was starting a Building Emotional Understanding class for parents the very next week, and only a mile from my home! The class was when I learned about “stay listening” and got the support I needed to be able to listen to my daughter’s deep feelings.

I realized right away that I needed to help my daughter with the feelings that were being held in place by the pacifier. One night when we were doing our bedtime routine (bath, bottle, pacifier and rocking in the rocking chair), I told her after she finished her bottle that I wasn’t going to give her the pacifier anymore but that I would stay right with her while she had her feelings. That first time, holding her little body in my arms while she thrashed and cried, arching her back, turning all red, sweating profusely, and screaming in what sounded like agony—this was the hardest thing I’d done as a parent (even harder than giving birth!). Tears streamed down my face while I held her in my arms, offering her eye contact, and telling her gently but with conviction that she was safe, and that I wouldn’t leave until she felt peaceful. That night I listened for an excruciating hour and a half. When she was done crying, her body relaxed and she slept more deeply than she ever had.

The next night, and for three more nights after that, I listened lovingly to my daughter cry for forty-five minutes before she could sleep. It was still quite hard for me and I needed to cry afterward in order to recover myself from the experience.  But her sleep was improving—she could now stay asleep for a two-hour stretch (at night) all alone and without sucking on anything! It felt like a miracle. And knowing that I had found a way to help my daughter made me feel much, much better about myself as a parent. For the first time I felt the sweet confidence that my love and attention could indeed make a huge difference for my child.

After that, Leah would still cry in my arms before falling asleep, but her cries were much shorter and far less intense. Leah’s dad started taking turns to put her to bed. He agreed to listen to her in the way I had learned: offering eye contact and speaking to her gently. We noticed that when he put her down she would cry intensely again for long stretches—sometimes for a half an hour or more. This was interesting since she didn’t cry as much with me anymore. We realized that there were feelings she could get at with her dad that she was unable to reach with me because my body had become a sort of “comfort” that soothed her away from her feelings. During these times of listening, Leah and her father began to develop a deep bond that they both enjoy to this day—deeper than what I’ve seen many children get to have with their fathers.

Sleep continued to be an area of challenge for us as a family, but taking away Leah’s pacifier and listening to her cry those first times was a dramatic turning point in our steps toward improved sleep. We still had a long road to go, and many hours of listening, but her sleep continued to improve as we listened through her upsets. In addition to improved sleep, through the listening, my daughter became more relaxed and content as a baby. With our help she was able to “off loaded” a pile of fear that had had her in its grips in those early months.

Today Leah is almost three and a half. She is full of bold Leah-ness: a confident, adventurous, loving child who is delightfully and delightedly herself.  She also—gratefully—sleeps a deep twelve hours almost every night!

Join Certified Instructor Angela Jernigan in one of her classes:

1) “Tears and Tantrums” class, beginning March 16. More information available here.

2) Building Emotional Understanding class, beginning March 27. More information available here.

3) Professionals Intensive course, beginning March 29.  More information available here.

The Good Tantrum

Hi Patty,

My almost 3 1/2 year old is having an especially hard time right now with family coming in to visit over the holidays. He has always had an extremely high need for connection. He still needs to sleep right next to me- not even his super involved attachment parenting dad will suffice. But won’t welcome other family members, and they seem to elicit tantrums.

My question is are we always supposed to hold them during tantrums/high intensity times? The first time it took 45 minutes of him trying to claw, kick, hit and spit on me when trying to hold him during a tantrum. Then he finally gave in. It seemed to help for a while, then he started getting angrier. He would yell, “No don’t hold me.” I stopped holding him during tantrums and just tried to be nearby.

A few Hand in Hand resources suggest that we should hold them no matter what and that this allows them to face their fears, but I have a hard time protecting myself and my young daughter from his physical attacks. I don’t want my angry vibes to get through to him and make it feel less safe and more controlling. I just don’t have the patience to remain totally calm every time. Thanks.

Dear Good Mom,

When a child is experiencing change in the family dynamic, the emotions are ripe for the picking!

It sounds to me like your son is signaling you that he needs to work on his fears of being apart from you. He’s clinging to you during the night out of fear, and he’s responding to the presence of others in the family with fear. Our children learn to cover their fear by trying to keep everything around them “just so,” without fail. When others are around, not only do they attract your attention, which he is afraid to be without, but they also introduce all kind of unpredictability into every moment. So he reacts badly.

Continuing to try to meet an impossibly high need for attachment won’t help any child in the long run. Your son needed great gobs of physical closeness and attention minute by minute when he was an infant. And it probably was during that time that he became afraid that there wouldn’t be enough of you to meet his needs. Now the need is an historical one. But the feelings come up as though they are right here and how. What will help him is to release his fears, and you’re already working on that.

What he’s actually doing is not, strictly speaking, a tantrum. Colloquially, his emotional episodes might be termed tantrums, but it’s good, deep work on fear that he’s doing during these times. We have two booklets, part of the Listening to Children series, that will help you understand the difference: Tantrums and Indignation, and Healing Children’s Fears.

When he becomes upset, give him you. Open your arms, offer love, a sweet voice, and your confidence that he’s got all that he really needs at the moment. A child having a tantrum will become hot, loud, and will writhe and throw himself around, or jump up and down, as if he wanted to climb out of his skin. But he won’t attack you. His frustration won’t be aimed at anyone. And it will be over within about 15 minutes. Tantrums release the feeling of frustration, and they’re wild, but there’s no feeling of “I’m going to get you” behind them.

If he’s working on fear, he will either cling to you for dear life, at the prospect of separation, or he’ll fight you hard, as though you were a mortal enemy. It sounds like he’s been tending to do the latter. Stay close to him, because physical closeness is the best nonverbal indicator to your child that you think things are actually OK. That you can tell the difference between his feelings that come from the past, and the present moment, in which he’s OK, you’re listening, and he’s safe with you.

You don’t have to hold him, necessarily, but I find that when fear runs deep, children benefit from physical exertion in order to overcome the feelings of helplessness in the face of danger that is at the core of any fear. Your job is to maintain safety during this emotional episode. If you stay too far away, his upset will be “dry.” He may show a lot of feeling, but there won’t be much perspiration, trembling or crying, the three signs that feelings are releasing and that his mind will clear.

Any time a child attacks, it’s their signal that they need containment by someone who is loving and receptive to their every signal. You can even set this up with him. When he’s not upset, and you and he are in good contact with one another, let him know that any time he tries to hurt you, you will need to come in close and keep him from hurting anyone. So if he doesn’t like that, and doesn’t want you to do that, he needs to keep from trying to hurt. That’s the deal. This sets up a signaling system. When he needs a chance to work on deep feelings, he knows the signal to use, and knows what to expect from you.

Don’t Staylisten like this when you are angry or tired or fed up. At moments when you’re emotionally drained, go ahead and use some kind of distraction to get through the rocky moment. Distraction can buy you some time to get your mind back in better order. So a cookie, a game of CandyLand, a nice warm bath, or a run around the block will provide you and he with an emotional detour. Think of a few distractions to try in advance of the moment you need them. Write them down and paste your list on the wall. Or make a “911 Call” agreement with a friend, to listen for 5 minutes when the chips are all the way down, and he needs a limit that will bring big feelings.

Anchor him emotionally while he cries and fights. Here are a few of the things it will help him to hear from you: “You’re safe;” “I’m watching over you every minute;” “Whatever was hard on you is over;” “You made it” “I’m making sure you have what you need;” “Here’s my hand on your cheek so you can tell I love you;” “I’ll stay with you until it’s better.” The thought that brings the most intense reaction from him is the thought that best counters the fear he’s working on.

One way to try Staylistening with a child without holding him is to open your arms, sit on the floor, and invite him to come to your lap. Sometimes a child can continue a big vehement cry and protest at the thought of coming in to your arms. You just inch a bit closer every 5 minutes or so, announcing that you are coming, to rev the feelings up again. If he can keep from attacking you, and cry and protest in place, that would be great. Sometimes, that’s possible. But if he’s working on a really big fear, he will probably try to hurt you. That’s your loud-and-clear signal that containment is necessary.

We find that every parent who tries to do Staylistening is much much better at it, and much less drained by it if they are getting some listening time for themselves. Our booklet, Listening Partnerships for Parents, will help you set this up for yourself. If you’re giving him big helpings of emotional assistance, you’re going to need big helpings for yourself—nothing drags our stored feelings out of the locker like a child who trusts us with his big feelings.

It’s also vital to balance Staylistening with Special Time and Playlistening: at least as much time needs to be spent doing those other two tools as you spend doing Staylistening. A child feels manipulated unless the relationship is balanced by safe play, and Special Time.

To help him do this work at a time when the whole family isn’t there to witness it all, you can begin to set limits around sleeping. “Tonight, Daddy is going to sleep next to you. I’m going to sleep in the other room.” Propose that, and let his feelings pour out. Night after night. If Daddy can be welcoming and reassuring, and express his willingness to keep him safe, and his confidence that your son will see you in the morning, every morning, he’ll move through this deep fear with big nightly cries, but improved confidence during the day, until he’s happy to sleep without you there. Then, you can try introducing him to sleeping in a separate bed, not every night, but some nights. When he’s no longer afraid of that, he and you will be close, connected, and have lots of choice about bedtime, and sleeping arrangements. He will have worked through some core fears, with no damage to his confidence. Quite the contrary.

Hope that helps,

Patty Wipfler

Helping a Child Make Good Use of a Tantrum

when children’s behavior looks off track, they are really asking for help

My husband and I had a friend visiting us and toward the end of the visit, my son started to play with the TV remote control, increasing the volume while we tried to talk, again and again. All of our requests to stop were ignored. Then he went to his little sister who was sitting on the floor, and stepped on her. It was not an accident, and I realized he was signaling me. I told him very softly that he could not do this and I took him in my arms, and went with him to the garage. I said goodbye to our friend and told my husband that I need some time alone with our son.

My son started to struggle in my arms and said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again!” When I continued to hold him on my lap, he started shouting, “Let me go! I don’t want to be here, I want to go back! You are hurting me!”

By now, I was sitting with him on my lap, looking at him and saying very softly, “I know you don’t want to be here, but we need to be here. I’m with you now and I’ll keep you safe here.” The more I talked the more he started to fight me and shouted while crying, “Let me go, you are hurting me!” I held him really gently with my hand on his back.  My fingertips were barely touching his back. He shouted, “You are hurting my back, don’t touch me!” It was obvious to me that it was not my physical holding that was hurting him, but old hurts and fears which were being released.

He tried several tactics to avoid these feelings. He asked me to hold him with his face looking away from me. It was clear that my eye contact brought up more painful feelings. He asked to open the garage door so he could “see more things,” and it was clear he was looking for a distraction. He asked for water. He said he was hot and needed a shower. His requests went on.

The whole time I kept holding him gently, telling him that it is safe now and I am with him. Then, my son started coughing and holding his neck. He complained he has pain in his throat. This reminded me that he had had a surgery when he was 3 years old. His adenoids had been removed.  I was wondering if this was part of the hurt he was offloading now.

He cried more and coughed more and I held him in my arms and wiped his tears. I was talking to him softly the whole time. He cried less and less with time.

After about 20 or 30 minutes, he asked to go to the bathroom. I agreed and we went together and this ended the episode.

I knew he was not completely finished, but I knew he had cried away a big chunk of what was sitting inside him for so long. I felt we both had had enough for that day, and that new triggers would come and allow him to work again on his fears.

Even though we didn’t complete the cry, I saw how relaxed he was afterwards and how different his behavior was. He was much more connected.

I had had a Listening Partnership a few days before this happened. I had worked on my own deep fears of setting limits with him. The LP release gave me the ability to stay calm and loving and not let my own fears take over and interfere.  It gave me back my confidence in the process which I needed very much.

Two weeks after all this happened, I had another opportunity to Staylisten with him. The amazing thing for me was that he actually invited me to Staylisten the way we did it before.

It started when he came back from his preschool and was restless. He tried slapping his brother’s back when he walked by, then immediately moved into slapping my back. I felt he was signaling me again.

I turned around to face him, sat down next to him and said, “You can not hit your brother or me.” Before I could complete my sentence my son asked me, “Are you going to take me again to the garage like last time? Is it going to take a long time?” I said, “Yes, I am going to take you to the garage and I will be there with you.”

He insisted that we sit in the same place; he sat on my lap in the same position like before. At the same time, he didn’t want me putting my hand on his back. It was like he knew he needed this, but still resisted the feelings that came.

This time he easily started crying and cried in my arms for about 10 minutes. When he was done we went to his room and he wanted to play with me. He was very connected and happy. That evening we had dinner at our friend’s house. My son played with their children the whole evening. In the past, if he didn’t know children well, he would sit next to me and my husband the whole time. This time he was flexible and very friendly, and we could see the difference. I’m sure that having the opportunity to offload some of his fears left him free to engage in play with the other kids.

Helping a 5-year-old Sleep on Her Own

My habit had been to lay down with my five year old daughter at bedtime until she was asleep, which often took half an hour or more.  She would fall asleep fairly easily when others put her to bed, reading books with the light on until she fell asleep.  I was ready to make a shift in this pattern, but didn’t want to use that approach.

She and I share a room and I told her that I would lay next to her for a few minutes and then go over to my own bed to sleep there.  I had a cold at the time and wanted to get to bed early, so this felt right to me.  As I started to get up out of her bed, she protested.  In the past I would have been focused on moving myself farther away in spite of her protests.  Instead I moved in closer and just said, “You really don’t want me to go.”  I touched the side of her face.  She began crying.  These were big fat tears rolling down her face that Patty said come with releasing grief.

She sat next to me and said that she didn’t want me to go because she might feel lonely, that she would feel all alone, that she didn’t want to feel lonely.  I said, “You don’t want to feel lonely,” and she said, “No, I want someone to be with me, that’s what I want.”  She said this very strongly several times.  She cried and cried for about 10 or 15 minutes.  Toward the end she said, “And I might not have anyone to play with” and cried very hard again.

She had just started kindergarten a month earlier and had told me before that sometimes at recess she would look around and not see anyone to play with.  She then was snuggling in my lap and looking very sleepy.  After this she said, “Mommy, can you lay one more minute next to me?” and I said yes.  I laid down for only a minute and gave her a hug as I told her I was getting up.  She very sweetly looked up at me and said okay.  She was very peaceful as I left, and didn’t ask for her night light.  I went over to my bed and I could hear that she was asleep within minutes.

The next night as I explained that I would again go to my bed, she began protesting vehemently.  She asked to sleep in my bed, and I explained that tonight we were going to keep working on having her sleep in her own bed and mommy sleep in her own bed.  As I got up to leave her bed, she was clinging to my leg and then she ran over to my bed.  I said, “Tonight you need to sleep in your own bed.”  I was able to keep my voice sweet, calm and matter of fact.  After several minutes of her going back and forth around the room, she became angry at me.

I approached her and said, “You need to come back to your own bed.”  She began to hit me and kick me to keep me away.  I moved in close and gently held her arms.  She was crying hard and raging at me.  I maneuvered one of my legs to keep her legs from hitting me and gently but firmly held her arms.  She was crying very hard and perspiring.  I remained calm and said, “I am here with you, I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”  She looked at me with absolute terror in her eyes and screeched, “I might die! I might die!”  I said “I’m not going to let you die.”

At various points she was pulling my hair very hard and I would need to release her fingers from it.  At one point she said, “Don’t hold my wrist, you’re hurting my bee sting, my wrist hurts, you’re hurting the bee sting on my wrist!”  I wasn’t actually holding her wrist, but was holding loosely farther up on her arm and she has never had a bee sting on her wrist.  She’s had one bee sting last summer and it was on her hip.

Then I remembered that when she was one day old she had blood drawn from the vein on the top of her hand.  We had needed to take her into the hospital to have the routine blood test for newborns since that wasn’t something they could do at the birth center where she was born.  The technician was very inexperienced and she got poked many times while he tried to get the needle into her wrist.  As he did this she was screaming and I was distraught myself.  We’d had a difficult time getting breast feeding to work and I had been feeling I was failing her.  In this state of overwhelm I had asked her father to hold her during the procedure while I was right next to them.  These memories flashed through my mind as I was with her.  As she cried and raged and tried to kick me and pull my hair I just said in a very calm, very sure voice, “I am right here with you, I am watching you every minute, I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

After about 20 minutes she became very calm and climbed into my lap to be cuddled.  We went over to her bed and she again asked if I would lay down next to her for one more minute.  When I got up to go I gave her a big hug and she said, “I love you mommy.” and went peacefully to sleep.

- a Parenting by Connection Mom

If you’d like to learn more about helping your child with sleep issues, join us in February for a free teleseminar: Helping Your Children Sleep.

Listening Helps my Daughter


Photo (C) Bev Lloyd-Roberts 2009

Yesterday my two-year-old daughter and I were shopping when we heard another mother threatening and speaking quite meanly to her child. (Poor woman was on the verge of losing it and I have been there myself!)

I moved us away and we went about our day, but my daughter grew increasingly clingy and teary throughout the busy day. At bedtime, she was rolling around, unable to settle, so I held her firmly and said, “I will keep you safe.”

She started to cry on and off, and I tried to remember if anything had happened that might have upset her. I remembered the mother in the store and said, “Oh, that was so scary, wasn’t it, when the mommy was mad at her son?” And my daughter started to cry heartily and deeply, crying, “Mommy, mommy, mommy.” After a really long cry (nearly an hour), she settled in for a good sleep, and woke up very cheerful and excited about preschool this morning.  A success!

- a Parenting by Connection mom in Ithaca, NY

Biting, Pushing, Pulling Hair – Helping Children with Aggression

Has your child ever lashed out and hurt someone? Has another aggressive child ever bothered him? If your answer is yes, join the crowd! Almost all of us struggle with understanding and helping our children when they hurt others, and when they are hurt by other children. It’s a shock to us the first time our sweet sons and daughters suddenly bite someone, or throw something at the new baby in the family. Here are some guiding principles for understanding and relieving children’s aggression, so they can relax and enjoy their friends and siblings. Read more…

Learn even more during our Free Teleseminar led by Patty Wipfler on July 22- Helping Children Who Bite

Working with Aggressive Behavior

Photo (C) Penny Mathews 2006

When my son started preschool he came home using aggressive words and behaviors I had never seen in him before.  He started talking about killing people, shooting, stabbing and “fire shooters”.  Even though I knew he didn’t understand the meaning of the words he used, it was upsetting.  He also began hitting and pushing his twin sister almost daily and kicking me during conflicts.  I thought I’d lost my sweet boy to the realities of the outside world and wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

After getting listening time and support for the situation, I realized my son was picking up these behaviors from the other boy in his class.  More importantly, I came to realize that the aggression shown by both boys was covering up fear and that there were ways for me to help my son off-load this fear, and return him to the gentle boy I knew.

I began to keep a closer eye on his playing – waiting for the moment he showed aggression.  When it occurred, I made a point to turn any aggressive moves into opportunities for playful contact with him.  I focused on the places where he laughed and would repeat what had caused the laughter.  For instance, he repeatedly told me he was going to “die me”(meaning kill).  When he said that I replied with a twinkle in my eye, “If you’re going to “die” me, then I’m just going to have to…have to…have to…kiss you!”  Then I would proceed to do just that, which caused him to laugh and laugh.  I also used “I’m going to have to lick you,” and “I’m going to have to hug you.”

After many days of this, I set a limit with him about something seemingly unrelated.  I told him he could not have more snack. When I remained firm in my response, he started to cry and tantrum.  I sat down with him, offering him eye contact and warmth.  He had a huge cry which included a couple blows to my head and my hair getting pulled.  The cry ended with him repeatedly saying that he didn’t want me to leave, which I understood to be an expression of feelings he carried from the past as the current situation did not include my going anywhere.  He also hugged me over and over.

A few days later I noticed there had been no aggressive behavior since the day of the big cry.  I realized that I had “warmed” him up with all the play with laughter which led the way for him to have the big cry.  I was amazed at the transformation in him.

During the time this cry occurred, school was on break.  He continued to behave at home without aggression, but upon returning to school, it resumed.  So once again I started to bring laughter and connection to his aggressive behavior.  This time I used fewer words and more physical responses.  For example, when he tried repeatedly to kick me I would cross one leg of his over the other and say, “Uh, oh I better tie up the horse.”  He found this hilarious.

Many days later we were decorating our house for Halloween when my son took a giant spider and began hitting his sister on the head with it.  I moved in quickly and physically stopped him from the action saying, “I can’t let you do that.”  He began to cry, and as I held him he shook, sweated and thrashed.  The fear looked even stronger than the first cry, and he ended the session again by saying that he didn’t want me to leave. It might be useful to add here that my kids spent three weeks in the hospital when they were born and therefore had an intense early experience of separation from me. When the cry was over we returned to decorating, and my son played a game with his sister where the spider kissed her.  Again, I was absolutely amazed by the change in him…and the fact that it occurred not by focusing on changing his behavior but by bringing connection, laughter and listening to a place that was stuck in fear.

- Alaiya Aguilar, Hand in Hand Instructor in California

Listening Through a Family Change

On the day we told my daughter, age 3 1/2, some big news about our family situation changing, the news just seemed too much for her to deal with and she just wanted to go and play.  So we played hard as a family for 3 hours and then she went to sleep.

When she woke up she crawled into my arms and said she wanted to go out for dinner.  She hadn’t even woken up at this stage, so I wondered what was so important about going to dinner.  I asked her and she said she liked going out for dinner.  We had been away the previous week and had gone out for dinner every night.  I think she had really enjoyed it.  I had a guess that she was feeling a bit sad and wanted to do something to feel better so I decided it was time to set a limit.

I said gently,  “I’m sorry darling we aren’t going out to dinner tonight”  She hid her face in my chest and started whining about going to dinner.  I gently pulled her away from me and said to her, ” Oh darling, you really want to go to dinner.”  She looked at me and burst out crying.  She cried for a few minutes and then started to arch her back, which I know is a precursor to her working on her fear and anger.

I sat on the floor and she arched and kicked and pushed at me for 30 minutes.  It was loud and violent and it woke up her dad upstairs.  He came down and sat next to us while she continued to writhe and try to get away.  She was screaming that she wanted me to let her go, but I really wanted to see this one to the end so I gently said, ” I will let you go soon, right now I want you to stay in my lap.  You are safe and have everything you need right now.”

Given the morning conversation, I kept telling her that both mummy and daddy love her, that she was safe and that we would both continue to look after her.  She quietened and looked like she was going to go to sleep, but as she had just been asleep, I think she was just recovering.  Then she sat quietly in my lap.  After that she wanted to stay in my arms for a while so we went upstairs and made some lunch together.  The experience was intense.

I often struggle with restricting her freedom when she is directly asking for me to let her go, but this time it was coupled with my own grief with the family changes. Trying to contain my own emotional issues, so I can hold a safe place for her is difficult when we are both going through stuff.  I felt that I did a good job this time and I held the intention of providing a safe place for her in my arms.

- A Parenting by Connection mom in Australia

A Broken Arm Leads to a “Break”through

Photo (C) M. Pate 2007

My son is 6-1/2 years old. I’ve been listening to his feelings and doing Parenting by Connection since he was about 1-1/2 years old. He had a rough birth, and has had lots of tension to work through from the beginning.

A couple of weeks ago, he had the biggest accident of his life so far. He was in the playground at school, and fell from the jungle gym to the ground. He broke both bones in his left arm at the wrist. The school worked hard to reach me, but I was in transit, so it took a full hour before I arrived at his school to take over his care. He had been crying and screaming inconsolably in the nurses’ office.

They told me that during that time, while crying hard, he had very articulate thoughts and was able to communicate with the adults who were caring for him. He said he wanted people to leave him alone (I think he meant not to touch him), and cried angrily about why did I have to be on my way to my daughter’s preschool program right at that time. He knew he had broken his arm, and that he was going to have to go to the hospital. He cried about what had happened to him, about what was going to happen, and about the fact that I wasn’t there when it happened.

I picked him up from the little nurses’ station, and took him to the pediatrician’s office. He was screaming in pain, but they wouldn’t give him any medication, in case they had to anesthetize him to set the bones. He was screaming that it hurt, that I needed to take him to the emergency room, that it really hurt, why wasn’t I listening, why hadn’t I been there when the accident happened, and why did he have to go to school. There wasn’t any way I could stop the pain while we were waiting for the doctor, so I sat with him and listened to him scream and cry.

People in the waiting room and the office staff were horrified that I was simply sitting with him, saying, “You can keep telling me about this, I’m right here with you.” He cried and cried. Next we had to go to the pediatric orthopedic surgeon’s office. He cried all the way there, the whole time we waited there, and all the way over to the hospital. He cried and cried on the hospital bed, and a few times, he cried himself to sleep. He sort of dozed off, then woke back up and cried some more. All in all, it was 8 hours of really hard crying, perspiration, and tears. I could smell his body odor—he worked up a heavy sweat.

For me, it was great to not shut him up, to let him really cry. There wasn’t anything I could do to make him quiet or to ease his pain, even if I had tried. It was draining, emotionally, but I felt like I really wanted to stand by his right to tell the world how much it hurt. The principal tried to get him to be quiet, and lots of others tried too. He wasn’t going to take it quietly! Not him!

By the time they were getting him ready to go into the operating room, he was no longer crying. He was perfectly aware of what needed to happen. He was a little nervous about the anesthesia, a little afraid of going to sleep. He wasn’t wild with fear at all, just a bit nervous. But he understood that the anesthesia was necessary, and he was willing.  Finally, they put him under for about 10 minutes and set his arm. It was really quick. He didn’t need any surgery.

He had the best sleep of his life in the recovery room! He fell into a deep sleep there, and he was snoring he was so relaxed!

Since then, he has never felt the need to talk about the whole thing or to grieve about the accident. He’s not afraid because of it. This is so interesting to me, because it was a really major accident. The next day he went to school, he was very proud of his arm, and he was still in pain, but did fine.

Photo (C) M. Pate 2007

Starting from that day, what was amazing was that he could focus more, could read better, and math became easier for him!

School this year has been a real struggle, but it changed markedly after his accident. I don’t think this is just because he can’t be as active with his cast on. I think that the 8 hours of crying and offloading fear, this purging and expelling all kinds of stress and muck made a big difference. I respected him and supported him through it, and from my point of view, he really did well.

Things are now noticeably easier for me with him at home, and easier for him at school. I wouldn’t recommend having a child break their arm to get this benefit, but how amazing is that!

- a Parenting by Connection parent

Healing a Separation Trauma

Photo (C) BelleMedia 2009

When my daughter Allie was about four, I took her over to my Grandma’s house for a visit. Grandma lives in a tidy, quiet neighborhood, so I let Allie play outside while Grandma and I made a pot of tea and talked.

My Grandma’s neighbor, an elderly woman, opened the door and invited Allie inside. She went. The woman, who was drunk at the time, closed the door and kept Allie there, terror stricken, for about twenty minutes. I found out later that nothing overtly harmful happened, but Allie had asked to leave again and again, and the woman wouldn’t let her out the door. The woman apparently rambled and talked nonsensically, then finally opened the door and let Allie run back to find me.

She ran to me and cried and trembled and could barely talk about what had happened at first. I felt terrible, of course. I held Allie and let her cry and tremble and cling and talk for a long time and slowly I pieced the story together. In the next several days, she cried frequently about the incident. She was adamant that she was never going there again. Never! When she seemed to be mostly over her periodic cries, I figured that we had to go back to Grandma’s. Allie needed to see that she was safe, even there, and that the incident was over. It was not going to happen again.

I didn’t want to force her to go to Grandma’s against her will. She had already been forced to stay at the neighbor’s house against her will! I figured that I needed to find a way to help Allie work on what had happened and feel powerful at the same time.

Finally I figured out a way to use Playlistening to help. I got a long rope from the garage, and I told Allie that some day we were going back to Grandma’s but that we were going to tie ourselves together so no one could separate us! Allie laughed and the play began. I played the old neighbor, and Allie tied me up over and over with much laughter. I struggled and begged and pleaded to be released. Allie laughed and was heartless. We giggled and wrestled, tried to “get” each other with the rope, and planned how best to tie ourselves together for the trip to Grandma’s.

After awhile, I figured it was time for the real thing. I asked Allie if she was ready to go. That neighbor had moved away, so I told her that. It would certainly be safe. She agreed to go.

We brought our rope and tied ourselves together on the front lawn. We were inseparable. We hobbled over to the neighbor’s empty house, with lots of laughter. Allie wanted to peek in the windows. I said she’d have to get untied so I could lift her up. She wasn’t afraid. We untied ourselves and looked in to see the place where she had been briefly imprisoned. We talked a little, noticed everything, gathered up our ropes, and went to Grandma’s. Allie’s fears were gone.

— a mother in Menlo Park, CA.