I Let My Child Cry It Out... And It's Not What You Think.

To start, I have always prided myself on my attachment parenting, my attempts to always become a gentler parent. I love loving my children, bringing them happiness, and being the cause of their laughter, but I am sick of being told that I am spoiling my child, teaching them that they can manipulate me, or am raising them to be overly-dependent brats. So to all of you "tough love" parents: today I let my 13 month old cry it out. Now, don't get all excited and think I'm defecting over to the dark side or something. I just reached my limit. With my first son, I had a dreamy parenthood until about 3 and a half years. My one year old, however, has been slightly less than a dream as of late.

I've said to others: I don't know if it's illness, teething, or a growth spurt, but the past few weeks have been tantrum after tantrum with screaming, bawling, and complete meltdowns at the slightest provocation. Now, I have a business of my own and am a single parent, so there came a dilemma: do I choose work or child?

I chose child. I always do.

But I knew something had to go differently if we were going to survive. So I shut my computer, set it aside, turned off my phone, and laid my screaming, crying, writhing child in front of me. Every stroke of my hand against his back, head, cheek, or arm only served to upset him more. So I set him down. I did not touch him.

But I did not leave.

He needed me. For whatever reason he couldn't reach me and I definitely could not reach him, but my child was struggling, so I sat there with him and watched him struggle. It was hard. His face was red and tear-soaked. His hair was matted to his wet forehead. His back arched as he continued to struggle. For a minute I thought about leaving. But why? I realized I was frustrated. I was frustrated that I couldn't fix it. I was frustrated that I couldn't take away his struggle. But I continued to sit there. I wondered if he even knew I was there next to him.

And then it happened. He opened his eyes and looked for me. Sobs still burst from his chest, but he was looking at me. I offered my hand. He took it and placed it on his chest. I left it there. He continued to sob. Never had I been so grateful to be with my baby. He knew I only had so much to offer. Finally, he turned over and placed his hands and face in my lap as his sobs whittled down to shudders. I rubbed his back.

Slowly, he crept his knees up more. In one movement, he put his arms around my neck and held on. I held him and whispered "Cry it out, little one. It's okay. You're safe with Mommy."

He fell asleep like that. I called my older son in and we did his math in bed while his brother slept in my arms. When he woke up an hour later, he looked for me and I was still there. I had a seminar to teach in two hours and I wasn't prepared, but I had passed a milestone with my son.

I may have him cry it out again the next time he has a struggle I can't fix, but I think we're both okay with that. However, it crossed my mind tonight that I almost left. When he had opened his eyes, how would he have felt? Would he have been scared? Would he have cuddled the pillows instead of me? Would he be angry that I left him? Because although I would never purposefully harm my child in any way, experience is had through perception and no amount of pure intent would have been able to repair that perception.

If I am Mom- if I am indeed someone with whom he can trust his emotions, struggles, and anguish- I must create an environment where this is his perception, as well as mine. If I am to do that, I must earn his trust because, as the parent, I am responsible for our environment. Parents, learn well from me... we can't change our child's perceptions. And we shouldn't. Our children should have a home base. A constant in an ever-changing world. All we can do is be there to prove that our love is the one constant in life that they don't have to earn.