On Independence

Two nights ago, I went into our bedroom to help Elena fall back asleep after she unsuccessfully tried to transition into a new sleep cycle (I’m now fascinated with baby sleep, btw). I tip-toed in, sat next to her bassinet, picked up the paci, and offered it. To my surprise, she had found something way better to soothe herself, her thumb.

“Oh no, she’s got that, too!” I thought. Of all the things I wanted her to get from me, this one caught me by surprise. Then, after the minute-long mental mom conversation ended, I decided to just watch her instead of trying to replace the thumb with the easy-to-lose pacifier in the most controlling fashion. As I watched, I thought about how I sucked my thumb for many years (too many to admit on the internet), so I know how hard it can be to break with the habit, but Elena is not nine years old, so we don’t need to worry just yet.

Seeing her problem-solve was a magical thing, though. Until now, she needed one of us to calm down after waking up, and now she has her left thumb. Right there, in front of my eyes at 2 am, my daughter began her independence journey. Dramatic much?

Independence is something I always talk about with students and their parents. Independence sings songs of success. Can your child dress all by themselves? Awesome! Your girl pours her cereal before you get out of bed? Score! Has your boy been playing in his room for an hour? Brag about it. The more children can do independently, the more accomplished parents often feel. It’s the trophy at the end of a bumpy parenting marathon.

We want our children to be independent, to learn to get up when they fall, even if they have to stay on the floor for a bit soothing themselves. We want them to find solutions to their problems and to climb over the walls of “I don’t know how.” The problem is, as I’m now learning, that being independent means needing us less. As a new mom, I understand how heartbreaking that is.

I love that Elena is learning to soothe herself; it will make our collective sleep a thing of dreams. I also reminisce on the moments I coached her into sleep. The rocking, shushing, and magic caressing of the eyebrows, but most of all, that priceless moment of eye-to-eye connection that lets her know I’m right there with her. I’m learning that, just as I want her to be independent and learn to do things without me, I can still be right beside her, offering the right tools (or not) to help her succeed.

This realization is my new paci. I soothe myself with the knowledge I’ve had as a teacher for so many years: children need, more than anything, the opportunities to do things. They need us to sit next to a bassinet and watch them try, fail, try again, and win. Elena will do this many times, her thumb will miss her mouth, she’ll poke herself in the eye, and get fussy, and whenever that happens, I’ll be ready to pick her up to rock her some more, but not before I gift her the chance to try it on her own.

Do we want our kids to be independent? Let’s step aside.