Farewell, Familiarity May 24th, 2010
IEP has had a thing for pacifiers since the very beginning. As a NICU baby he wasn’t allowed to nurse for the first few days of his life and a pacifier was the only acceptable stand-in. He attached quickly. Since then, it has been a wonderful tool. In the early days it was priceless for long car rides, naps, and general fussiness. More recently it has been helpful keeping him quiet during church, and for the funny and guilty smile he makes when he finds a stray one that he knows is off limits except for sleep time.
I asked our pediatrician at his 15-month appointment what the drop-dead age is for pacifiers. She told us we were fine as long as he was weaned from it by two years. I decided right then that 18 months would be our cutoff. (That was after deciding, and then rescinding my decision, that nine months and twelve months would be our cutoffs.) And this weekend we did the deed. After a grandparent visit including a big zoo trip and lunch out, he was exhausted by the time his nap rolled around on Saturday. For the first time, we put him down sans pacifier. He cried for about three minutes and then crashed. We repeated the routine for Sunday’s nap. Then last night he went down for the night without it. Again, he cried for about three minutes and then went right to sleep.
I have been both surprised and not surprised at how easily this transition has gone. (“Is going” – don’t want to count the proverbial chickens quite yet…) For a baby who’s never had to fall asleep with an empty mouth, this change hasn’t been altogether a non-event. But it hasn’t been much of an event either. He’s an adaptable kid and takes to new situations with relative ease. But despite his flexibility, I know that at some level this change is hard for him.
Last night as I laid him down crying (after having declined his pacifier request) I started thinking about what pacifies me. Thankfully, it’s not a silicone nipple tethered to a clip on my shirt. But I – we all – have things in my life that soothe me. I have things in my life that are familiar, on which I lean and rely, and which could be considered crutches in moments when I reach for them out of fear.
A cell phone. Internet access. My mother on the other end of the telephone. Leather handbags in a rainbow of colors. Sloppy kisses from giant furry dogs. A squeeze of my husband’s strong hand. All these things, in various moments of stress or insecurity bolster me against my fears.
So how would I feel if, over the course of a weekend, someone decided it was high time I was weaned off any of these things? I wondered about this and tried to distinguish for myself what the difference is between IEP’s pacifier and any of my own soothing vices. I drew the line in a shade of grey. I can handle most any situation without my own creature comforts. Naturally, strife-filled moments are easier with them. But I can rise to the occasion on my own when called upon.
What I didn’t want for IEP was for his pacifier habit to become so ingrained that it was a prerequisite for sleep – or any other brand of satiety. It’s not so much that I don’t want him to have it, it’s that I don’t want him to need it. With toddlers such nuances are difficult to convey, which is why it plays out in shades of black and white. But ultimately it’s the coping skill that I want to develop, more than the crutch that I want to eliminate.
But yet we all have such needs. We can never truly eliminate our need for the objects and attachments that aid us in trying times. And just as surely as his attachment to his pacifier fades, his attachment to something else (something more toddler-esque, something more socially acceptable for a boy his age?) will develop. So why such a big deal about the pacifer? (Aside from the fear of massive orthodontia?) I’m not sure. But I know that the experience he’s having in giving up something now will be repeated many times throughout his life. Giving up our nanny someday. Giving up his preschool. Giving up his favorite pajamas. Giving up a girlfriend (in the dim and distant future!). So perhaps it is the experience of sacrifice and change that we’re fostering, as much as a shift to new objects of comfort.
These little moments of parenting sneak up on me from time to time. I watch my son traverse a poignant moment in life and extrapolate its significance out to an adult level. There is much to be gained in considering our challenges from a child’s perspective. It takes the muddied waters of adulthood and clarifies them with concision. As I’ve watched him relinquish his pacifier so easily, I am prone to wonder what it is that I hang onto but could just as easily dismiss.
May 24th, 2010 at 5:38 am
Go IEP. This is a big milestone! Your musing on what the equivalents are for us adults is really interesting. And then the next question of which we could leave behind is also provocative. Will be thinking about this today.
Thank you.
May 24th, 2010 at 12:44 pm
This makes me think about more dramatic forms of coping – addictions, alcoholism, binge eating. These are, of course, coping mechanisms that need to be managed carefully. But for the rest of us (as adults anyway), we do turn to things that aren’t necessarily good for us. A drink after a stressful work day. Chocolate. A cigarette. We accept these things in moderation, because the benefit outweighs the negatives. So I think you’re right: it’s okay to lean on these things, as long as we don’t *need* them. That’s a fine line, isn’t it?
May 24th, 2010 at 1:31 pm
Such an interesting piece, Gale. I’ve had moments like this with my boys, too. In my case, I often work myself up into a frenzy, getting the perfect plan in place for tackling some behavior (sleeping and potty training come to mind). As often as not, it’s much more easily accomplished than I think it will be. In those cases, I realize that I’m the one injecting the anxiety into the situation and any resistance I’m getting is more a push-back against my tense energy than against the behavior itself. That makes me wonder more about your question about our own security blankets. Which ones are actual pacifiers (nail biting, I think) and which ones could I easily give up if it weren’t for the habit I’ve created around them (sweets after putting the boys to bed)?
May 24th, 2010 at 1:53 pm
yep…a true coming-of-age, and the first of MANY. here’s hoping they all go as smoothly:) As for me, I’d count caffeine as one of my soothing mechanisms…not a good thing.
May 24th, 2010 at 3:56 pm
You’re echoing what I was feeling just a short time ago. As I wrestled with weaning our sons from “binkys” I reminded myself that this was just one step in a long line of life’s lessions. But you said it here so beautifully!
May 24th, 2010 at 7:43 pm
We’re going through this ourselves, though I’m embarassed to admit that my son is almost 4. We’d weaned him from any daytime use of it a couple of years ago, but allowed it as comfort for nighttime until just a few months ago. Our dentist had told us that he needed it to be gone by his fourth birthday. The transition has been hard for him, but not nearly as hard as I expected. And he still tries, several weeks in, to see if we’ll bend. But it’s time. He’s old enough to talk about comfort with and to explain the changes to him. But I’m with you, it certainly makes us think of our own habits doesn’t it? I often wonder if we are quick to assume that our children have the same insecurities as we do. To feel for them as we assume they feel (does that make sense). I try to remind myself that he is him and how I would react to a situation or life challenge is probably quite different than he would. Or perhaps not? Perhaps I’m the example by which he navigates changed. It’s a complex topic. I’m glad to read your thoughts about it here.
May 25th, 2010 at 7:24 am
I went through the same process as you did when grappling with “binky-weaning.” My first-born never took to the binky, but Miss M. loved hers. She only wanted it at night, so I never thought it was much of an issue. Our pediatrician thought otherwise. I didn’t really see what the big deal was? Like you, I thought, “Doesn’t everyone have some sort of crutch? How bad is it that M.’s crutch is a little piece of plastic?”
I don’t have any answers. Miss M.’s teeth seem fine, and when she’s sick or particularly out of sorts, I let her have it for 15 minutes, even now. I guess I’m an enabler!
May 25th, 2010 at 10:09 am
First, I’m so glad it’s going well! I remember my ‘umm-umm’ being ‘lost’, taken away when I was two. It is a big transition. I think the hard part about these early shifts (sleep, potty training come to mind) is that it has to be lead by us. We are the agents of change in our kids lives and that makes it harder for us.
But, I like what Christine said about remembering that it is their reaction, not ours that matters. I need to think about the anxiety I put out there about change.
May 25th, 2010 at 10:37 am
The Thumbuster is magical…if you need it. I think that kids are more flexible than we are. It is often easier for them to roll with the punches, especially when their parents tell them that it is going to be ok.
The last year or two have been pretty tough for me for a variety of reasons. My father sat me down one day and explained why he thought it would be ok. I very much appreciated it and it helped a little bit, but not like when I was ten.
When I was ten my parents knew everything so it was easy for me to listen. At 41 I know that sometimes they get it wrong and that things can happen. My comfort is different these days than it used to be.
May 25th, 2010 at 11:39 am
Such an interesting way to look at what so many of us have dealt with or are dealing with at some point in our child’s lives. I only wish Hannah had a binky that I could take away. Instead she sucks her thumb and I’ve tried the plastic guard, the nasty tasting stuff and a few other quick fixes but I can’t chop off her thumb which I really think would be the ONLY thing to get her to stop. SHE wants to stop but can’t. Her thumb soothes her to sleep, into relaxation, from a tantrum, etc. It brings her comfort when nothing else can. I wish I had something that was such an easy fix for sadness… but you’re right. Learning to overcome this habit will be a first of many roadblocks that she’ll be running into in life. And stopping sooner rather than later would be a good plan. If anyone has any suggestions, throw them out to me please!!
May 25th, 2010 at 10:33 pm
Hello, I found your blog the typical, circuitous way and was caught immediately by your NICU reference. My son was born early and did quite a bit of time in the NICU, during which his paci was instrumental in teaching him to suck and breathe simultaneously (hard learning for a preemie).
You’re so right about the cycle of “giving something up,” sort of a rite of passage that we get to keep coming back to.
Good luck,
Rachel
May 27th, 2010 at 6:27 pm
I never had a pacifier, but I did suck on a bottle until I was nearly five years old, despite my parents repeated attempts to wean me from it. Just before I went off to kindergarten, my grandmother crouched down in front of me and said, “Do you know what happens to little children who go off to kindergarten with bottles?” I shyly shook my head “no.” “They don’t have any friends,” she said, simply. The bottle was freely given up in a matter of minutes. I still remember that interaction all these years later. Sometimes “cold turkey,” and a slightly threatening grandmother, is the solution!