Baseball Babies
By Elizabeth Pantley
My three older children all play
baseball, so Coleton and I spend much of our springtime at the
ballpark. His first baseball season, he was five months old. Since
I was a coach on my daughter’s team, Coleton spent his time
in the dugout and on the field nestled in his (team-colored) sling,
watching the action and listening to the cheers, chants and noise
of the play. Between swings at bat, the girls would often pass
him around from one to the other, entertaining him and trying
to make him giggle.
That same season I met another
mother with a baby boy the same age as Coleton. She always arrived
with her little son belted into his car seat/stroller travel system.
There he would remain, parked at the edge of the bleachers. His
reclining position in the seat gave him a view of the sky and
trees. When he fussed, his mother would prop a bottle in his seat
and he would drink until he fell asleep.
As I chatted with this other mother,
as baseball moms do, I discovered the difference extended beyond
the field. While Coleton’s nights were spent sleeping with
his Mommy by his side, nursing whenever he felt the need for comfort,
the other mother was practicing sleep training: putting her baby
in his crib at bedtime and ignoring his cries until the appropriate
morning hour, “teaching” him to “self soothe”
himself to sleep.
Where do we go from here?
Both Coleton and this other baby were quiet babies. Rarely would
you hear either one of them cry. But as I contemplated the lives
of these children, I wondered how their early experiences would
color their futures.
Coleton’s early life was
filled with people: their warm arms, happy faces, cuddles and
touches. He was always in the middle of life, not only enjoying
his own experiences but also observing the experiences of others.
His nights were no different than his days: someone was always
there to heed his call.
This other baby’s early months
were spent strapped in his stroller, hearing people but from an
uninvolved distance except for the occasional visitor who leaned
over his seat. His nights were vast hours of loneliness, his cries
ignored.
Coleton’s early life was
filled with the golden communication of humanity, where he will
most likely seek to be as he grows. The other baby was shown independence
and aloneness during the first part of his life. Yes, they both
may have been content babies, but content with entirely different
worlds — one that was people centered, one revolving around
separateness from people. I find myself wondering how these early
experiences will color the men these babies will become.
As you move through these early
months with your baby, take the time to consider how today’s
actions will affect your child in the long run. This process will
help you toss off unhelpful advice as you work through your own
sleep solutions.
© Elizabeth Pantley; excerpted
from The
No-Cry Sleep Solution: Gentle Ways to Help Your Baby Sleep Through
the Night by Elizabeth Pantley.
Parenting educator
Elizabeth Pantley is the author of numerous parenting books, including
the widely cited The No-Cry Sleep Solution: Gentle Ways to
Help Your Baby Sleep Through the Night. Buy her books at
Powells.com.
She is a regular radio show
guest and is quoted frequently on the web and in national family
and women’s publications. Elizabeth lives in Washington
state with her husband, their four children and her mother. Visit
her at www.pantley.com/elizabeth.
