I always thought I was meant to be a “natural mom.” Growing up, my mother breastfed us and co-slept until we were practically teenagers. I planned for a homebirth—and even went for a water birth. When my daughter arrived, my partner and I embraced attachment parenting with open arms.
We dove straight into the world of attachment parenting by picking up The Baby Book by Dr. Smith. His words reassured me that I could never hold my baby too much; a mother’s embrace was the perfect place for all newborns. In those early weeks, I don’t think our daughter spent more than a few moments out of my arms. When she wasn’t nursing—practically every moment—I had her snug in a baby carrier or sleeping on my chest.
In hindsight, Dr. Smith never claimed you couldn’t put your baby down. He emphasized the importance of self-care for parents too. However, as a new (and utterly exhausted) mom, I overlooked that detail. In my sleep-deprived state, I clung to the notion that my baby required my constant attention.
Sticking rigidly to that belief didn’t guarantee happiness for either of us. My newborn daughter cried frequently, especially each night for what felt like eons. I vividly recall one evening when I tried to nurse her, only for her to push me away with her tiny fists. I attempted to place her in the baby carrier, but she resisted, stiffening her body against me. With my partner at work, I had no alternative arms to offer her comfort.
As I paced around our small apartment with a wailing baby in my arms, I wanted to scream too. Instead, I tried to keep it together and thought, “What would Dr. Smith do?”
In that moment, the absurdity struck me. Here was a well-meaning guy I didn’t know, who certainly wasn’t present while my baby was throwing a fit. Why was I seeking parenting wisdom from him?
We had a baby swing that had been gifted to us. Desperately, I assembled it (yes, while holding a screaming baby) and placed her inside, flipping the switch.
She stopped crying.
Oops! I guess I wasn’t the dedicated attachment parent I thought I was after all.
The truth is, you can’t neatly fit yourself into one parenting style. We borrow bits and pieces from every resource we explore, every conversation we have, and craft our unique approach. Yes, I eventually mirrored my mother’s practices, breastfeeding and co-sleeping for ages, but I also used disposable diapers, chose to vaccinate my children, and indulged in fast food once in a while.
The key takeaway is that if you become too fixated on one parenting philosophy, you risk ignoring the most important expert on your children: you. Our instincts as parents are deeply ingrained, if only we would listen to them. We are the ones who know our kids best and what methods work for them, as well as what simply won’t.
While advice from others can be beneficial, parenting is rarely a one-size-fits-all endeavor. It’s crucial to remain open-minded. Take what resonates with you and discard the rest, much like how you would toss out junk you no longer need.
I’ll always appreciate Dr. Smith—partly because I did use a lot of his advice, especially the part about trusting your instincts, a sentiment echoed by many parenting experts. But what stands out to me most about him is the day he helped me realize that rigid parenting philosophies are total nonsense. For more insights on parenting, check out this blog post.
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In summary, parenting is a personal journey that requires flexibility and a willingness to adapt. It’s essential to trust your instincts, gather information, and create a unique approach that works for both you and your child—because in the end, the only expert you really need is yourself.
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