Ahhh! Nothing like a good three days in Santa Cruz with my uber fertile younger sister, BIL, and “attachment parented” nephew to really make me want to light up my ovaries like grenades and cast them into a sea of ovulating hippies.
WARNING: If you are a firm believer in attachment parenting, you may find this entry offensive. After experiencing attachment parenting for three (long…verrrrrrrry long) days, I can firmly say that my child (should I be blessed enough to have one–or maybe, please God, two) will CRY IT THE FUCK OUT at night until he/she can sleep peacefully for 8 hours. The whole business of having every shit, whimper and gas pain tended to wherever and whenever is simply not part of the plan should I ever have kids. Infancy is one thing–a child under 3 months old should absolutely be tended to every last minute, but if they have teeth, are walking around, and can start naming your boob “Tee tee” or whatever, they are crying it out at night. Call me callous, un-maternal, un-enlightened, whatever…I just cannot see myself being happy having my life revolve in this way around my (future unborn) baby. I reserve all right to eat my words on this, by the way!
I have mentioned my sister on the blog before, but for new comers, or those who need a refresher, she was an opiate abuser, thrice daily pot smoker who got pregnant on her first try (while she was abusing drugs, mind you!), and is now living up in Santa Cruz totally healthy and “reformed”. So, for those of us who fear that one fleck of gluten will somehow destroy our fertile window, just know that there is a woman out there whose uterine lining was prepped with THC, and easily implanted an egg.
My nephew is 15 months old and is being raised in the style of “attachment parenting”. This means that rather than push him in a stroller, he is more often than not, carried in one of those sarong wrap thingies around my sister or her husband. He also sleeps in their bed (still) and does not sleep through the night because he is used to waking at night for feedings whenever he needs. My sister will nurse him whenever he wants (this also means that she whipped her boob out several times in public, and in front of my father… Cringe). I am 100% certain that I will never. Ever. whip my tit out in front of my father when I breast feed in front of him. Call me old fashioned, prude, whatever. It just will never happen.
By far, I was most disturbed by the fact that the baby still shares a bed with my sister and her husband. I don’t know if this is typical of attachment style parenting, but in my humble, infertile-as-all-hell opinion, this is craziness. After chatting with her a bit about what this is like, she revealed that she and her husband have not had sex more than once every FOUR MONTHS since the baby has been born. Partly because he is in the bed with them, and partly because she has lost all sex drive for her husband.
I don’t want to sound high and mighty–and God knows, I have absolutely no reason to be–but 4 months of no sex seems…fucked up?
As is the case with all styles of parenting, there are all sorts of examples that demonstrate that children who are raised with attachment style parenting are very well adjusted, kind, loving individuals. But at what expense? Does the bond between mother and baby trump that of husband and wife? At what point is the child told that he cannot come into the bedroom? And what does that do to the child who has never been told that his parent’s bed isn’t his bed too?
And then I think about how damn easy it was for my sister to get pregnant, and it just makes me depressed as all hell…because regardless of what style of parenting she chooses…she still gets the option to choose. And I get to twiddle my bum ovaries and start Clomid in a few weeks. Yes. I am starting Clomid.