Prams, Car Seats & Slings

Home / Archive by category "Prams, Car Seats & Slings"

Posts exploring buggies, strollers, slings and other ways to transport your child.

How to grow your baby’s inner teddy bear – while out in the buggy

How to grow your baby’s inner teddy bear – while out in the buggy

In my last blog, I told the story of a baby who was having a tough day.  Some commentators wrote to say they felt unsettled by what I’d written.  They wished I had ended the piece with ideas about the kind of steps readers — especially parent readers – could take to guard against the possibility of a baby’s distress.

So that’s aim of this blog.  I’m going to suggest five simple steps parents can take to grow their baby’s inner teddy bear when they are out and about in the buggy.

But first…

First, though, let me start with a preamble.

I’m always reluctant to provide advice.  Parents are practically drowning in advice these days, and often it achieves the opposite of what it intends.  Advice can easily undermine parents’ confidence, because it feels like someone else knows better than you what to do.

I’m not there when parents have to make decisions.  I don’t know what challenges are going on in a parent’s family or a parent’s life.  Knowledge about children development in general is not the same thing as a knowing a particular child.

So I don’t like providing advice because it can seem like the advice is more important than a parent’s curiosity.  That is never the case.  Parents are the experts on their children.  My only real advice to parents is: “Be curious. Be kind.  Be gentle.  Remember connection.”

On the other hand, I realise that parents often find suggestions helpful.  Being in a relationship with a child is tiring and relentless and confusing – and, yes, sometimes joyous.  (Note that I have not used the word ‘parenting’ in that sentence, because I don’t like that word.  ‘Parenting’ sounds like a task to be performed.  Making a relationship with a child is not a task.  It is a process.  Being in a relationship with a child or a friend or a partner is a way of being.  It’s one aspect of walking through life.  Relationships are not tasks.)

Since suggestions can be helpful, I have crafted the ones I will shortly discuss.  I don’t see them as advice, but more as pointers. They are tips that I hope can make parents’ lives easier and babies’ lives more secure.

Let me reinforce that last observation by turning to one other hand  (if there can be such a thing as three other hands).  It is really important that we keep babies’ emotional security in mind.  Attention to babies’ emotions quickly slips when life become busy and pressured.  That’s partly because babies’ emotions are subtle and fleeting.  It’s easy to overlook them.  Their body movements can be hard to read.  This interpretive process is made much more difficult if you don’t even know that babies have a biological, absolute need for emotional connection.

The struggle I find regularly myself facing is how to balance suggestions against baby’s imperative need for connection.  The suggestions I offer never sound complicated.  Rather, they sound simplistic: “Connect.  Take the baby’s lead.  Connect.  Meet the baby’s need.  Connect.  Reassure.  Connect.”

Until you understand how tremendously important connection is for babies, my suggestions don’t sound vital.  Connect?  Smile?  Laugh?  Cuddle?  Pay attention?  Those suggestions don’t sound serious.  They sound sweet.

I’m not trying to be sweet.  I’m trying to help us understand that without connection, babies suffer.  That’s why I tell stories of distress and disconnection, like the one I told in my last blog, entitled ‘How not to judge families sitting next to you in the café’.  If we are brave enough to see babies’ distress, without turning away from it or denying it, then we begin to really understand what the science of connection is telling us.

But it takes courage to look upon a child’s discomfort.  The things I write and talk about are unsettling because they confront us with our own limitations.  We realise that, even as loving parents, we could cause discomfort in our children.  We could do this without ever intending it or even being aware of it.  This possibility easily tips us into guilt or anxiety.

Guilt and anxiety, though, are not helpful to parents or to their children.  Nor are they what I ever intend.  What I have come to accept is that they are always a risk when I talk about connection.

Thus, the challenge for all of us interested in raising happy children, and in embedding connection in our professional practice, is how to balance:

1) babies’ need for connection…against….

2) our wish to be good parents and professionals and people….against…

3) the knowledge that sometimes we fail to meet babies’ needs.

That is why is compassion and curiosity are so important in this learning process.  Compassion for ourselves, as much compassion as for others.  Curiosity about what is happening inside ourselves, as well as curiosity about what is happening for others.

Compassion and curiosity get us through the moments of anxiety and guilt and doubt.  We become comfortable with the idea we don’t have to be perfect.  No one has to be perfect, including parents sitting next to us in a café.  We forgive ourselves when we ‘mess up’.  We forgive our children when they ‘mess up’.  We are less critical of other parents who ‘mess up’.  We begin to replace blame and judgment with a search for opportunities to help.

We begin to really believe that making up is more important than messing up.  We strengthen our own inner teddy bears.

And then, finally, we begin to relax.  We believe that being a good enough parent is good enough.  We don’t have to be perfect. Even if others criticise us, we have confidence in our own ‘enoughness’.  We do not have to feel ashamed of moments of imperfection.  ‘Parenting’ stops being a task you can fail or succeed at.  Making a relationship with your child becomes a process you live every day.  Some days are better than others.   There is an awful lot of learning involved.

I have come to believe that discarding the anxiety about failure is key to balancing the three key components I listed above:  babies’ needs vs. parents’ hopes to be good enough vs. fears we aren’t good enough.  When we are confident that, even in our imperfection, we are still good enough, then we become better able to cope with scary ideas.  And the idea that babies have an overwhelming need for connection, and that we sometimes fail them, is indeed scary for many parents.  Perhaps ‘scary’ is not a strong enough word.  Maybe the idea that we could fail our children is better understood as shameful.

So here is the good news:  Babies do not need connection all the time.  Even in healthy human relationships, people spend only about 33% of the time in connection.  But we do need that 33%.  Babies absolutely need that 33%.  And they need extra-strong doses of connection when they’ve had a moment of fear – when they’ve found themselves fighting sabre tooth tigers.

The discoveries science is making about emotional trauma tell us that many babies don’t experience connection 33% of the time.  And many of them don’t get extra doses of connection when they are scared, because their parents didn’t realise they were scared in the first place.

That’s why I was worried for the baby in my last blog.  For the 25 minutes I sat in the café near he and his family, there was never one moment of connection, no moment that would have helped him to relax and feel that the café was a safe place.  He turned to electronic technology for comfort because, for whatever reason, his parents weren’t able to offer him the emotional comfort he needed during that half hour.  I say this believing that it was never their intention to ignore his needs.  I fully believe they love him.  I also know he will have suffered, when, at only 18 months old, he went 25 minutes without feeling connected.

This is the courageous balance we need to achieve as individuals and as a society:  to stand in the knowledge that parents who deeply love their children can damage them.  When we can accept that these two things go together, without laying blame on the parents, then we can move into the compassionate place that lets us think about how to help other parents.  Parents can move themselves into a curious place about what else they could do to support their baby’s need for connection.  They don’t have to protect themselves from fears of their own imperfection.  They have already become comfortable with its reality.

I know scientists don’t usually talk this way.  It sounds more like I am speaking from what I humorously sometimes call ‘Dalai Lama Land’.  Nonetheless, it’s still true.  The science of connection ultimately leads us to lessons in forgiveness and compassion.

And with that very long, very essential, preamble, here are my suggestions for five simple thing parents can do to help build their baby’s internal teddy bear when they are out and about in the buggy.

Five steps to guard against causing your baby anxiety

1. Change the language in your head:  Use the word ‘baby’, not ‘buggy’.

Experiment with never using the phrase ‘pushing the buggy’.  Instead, try always using the phrase ‘pushing the baby’. This simple linguistic shift reminds you that inside that piece of mechanical technology is a real live baby, with a brain and body that needs to feel safe.  The baby’s sense of safety comes only through their confidence that you are always nearby, that you haven’t forgotten them.  The problem with buggies is that they too easily interfere with a baby’s sense of connection to trusted adults.  There is a mismatch between babies’ brains and buggies’ design – especially when buggies face outward.

2. Don’t park the baby far away from you.

If you are going into a café, or a bus, or a shop, don’t park the baby across a large space.  Take the baby, in the buggy, with you.  (Better yet, lift them out and carry them.  This gives their muscles a chance to stretch.)  They will feel safer, because you are nearby. They won’t have to wonder when you will come back.  They won’t have to worry whether you might never come back.  Their physiology doesn’t have to start gearing up for sabre tooth tigers that might sneak into the café or bus or shop before you get back to them.  All unfamiliar environments are, for babies, settings in which a tiger might spring out and gobble them up.  The only way to prevent that fear is for them to feel confident that their trusted adult is looking out for them.

3. Be sure the baby can see you.

If you do have to park the baby far away from you, be sure you have oriented them so that they can keep their eyes on you.  Being able to see you will keep them feeling a bit safer.  You can keep turning around and talking to them, smiling and nodding at them.  That responsiveness will comfort their brain.  They will know you haven’t forgotten them.  They will believe you are keeping your eyes out for any sneaky, dangerous sabre tooth tigers.  If the baby starts to cry, go back and lift them out of the stroller.  Your cuddle will be the reassuring comfort they need.  If they are crying hard, don’t take the stroller by the handle and rock it.  Being soothed in a stroller is not the same as being soothed in your parent’s arms.  Babies recover more quickly from fear when they have the warmth of human touch to help them

4. Touch the baby before you leave and when you get back.

Another thing you can do if you have to put space between you and the baby is to make physical contact with them before you leave and as soon as you get back.  Talk to them at that moment as well.  Tell them where you are going and when you will be back.  Point to where you will be.  Do all this even if your baby can’t talk yet.  They will hear the tone of your voice as reassuring.  That moment of physical connection will boost the hormone oxytocin, which will give their physiological system a boost in coping with the anxiety of your distance.  The conversation will also slow down the speed of your departure.  Remember, babies didn’t know you were both going into this space.  They weren’t in on the planning, so they have little expectation about what might happen.  Your departure to the other side of the room will be one more surprise.  Try to ensure it isn’t an abrupt surprise.

5. Tell the baby you are about to lift them out of the buggy.

When you go to lift the baby out of the buggy, don’t life the baby abruptly.  Give them a chance to realise a change is about to happen in their body.  Hold out your hands and tell them you are about to pick them up.  This lets them be an active participant in this transition, rather than experiencing themselves they as a passive being in an unpredictable world.  If you are surprised by my suggestion that you speak to the baby in this way, please rest assured many parents find this suggestion surprising.  Most parents do not know that by the unbelievably young age of 2 months, some babies are already beginning to anticipate when their parents are going to pick them up.  If a parent doesn’t make that move too rapidly, and gives the baby time to read the parent’s signals, then babies adjust their own posture to ‘help’ parents in picking them up.  You can see babies making these astounding postural adjustments in the photos below, which come from a 2013 research study by Professor Vasu Reddy, where she reported on this ability.  If you like, you can even watch videos of parents and babies participating in the study, on this link here.

 

Finally

As a human species, we didn’t always need to ‘know’ consciously about connection.  In our evolutionary past, we just lived it.  That’s because we lived in a way that allowed it to happen naturally.

Nowadays, our modern way of life too often interferes with connection.  We need to use the knowledge that science is providing to guide our thinking about the way we relate to our babies.

I like knowing that understanding the science of connection helps us not only in relating to our babies, but also to ourselves.  Whatever the problem, curiosity is the answer.

 

 

How not to judge families sitting beside you in the cafe

How not to judge families sitting beside you in the cafe

I spend most of my time these days thinking about how we, as a society, get information to parents about infant brain development.  ‘Brain development’ isn’t the right terminology, though.  The English language doesn’t have a word for what I mean.  I mean something more like the intersection of brain and body, self-awareness and self-regulation, anxiety and comfort, and the way that relationships underlie the development of all these systems.  That’s the most crucial point for parents to understand: relationships matter.

Our Western society does not begin to comprehend the importance of relationships for children’s development.  Our modern way of life damages our children – and ourselves – in ways we don’t realise.  It happens without our intending or being aware of it.  It happens because we are increasingly cut off from one another and from ourselves, even from our own bodies.  We end up surviving, rather than thriving.

Let me tell a story to illustrate what I mean.

I was sitting in a café last week, watching a family who had come in to have a meal.  Mum pushed the baby in his buggy, about 18 months old, over to a table.  Dad, Mum, and Big Sister put down their bags and coats.  The three of them went over to the counter to choose drinks and food, leaving the baby parked beside the table. 

The baby immediately got agitated, wriggling and holding out his hands toward them, scrunching his face, and protesting very quietly.  They didn’t notice, though, because their backs were to him, while they read the menu at the counter.  Plus, they will have believed him to be safe, strapped into his stroller and parked near their things at the table.

As minutes passed, the baby’s arm movements and face got more frantic.  His cries did not get louder, though; they stayed consistent and pleading, in their rhythm and tone.  I found myself getting agitated.  His family couldn’t see or hear him.  He needed help to get their attention. 

So I tried a technique that sometimes helps solve things, when a baby is in need and parents are distracted.  I like it because the parents don’t feel offended or blamed.  I simply said to the baby, in an empathic voice loud enough for his parents to hear, “Oh, are you feeling lonely?  Are you missing your Mummy over there?  She’ll be back in a minute.” 

My brief interjection helped Mum to turn around and realise her baby was needing her.  She smiled at me as she came back to the table, and I smiled back at her.  As she neared their table, the baby’s arms quit waving so frantically, and he relaxed a tiny bit, although his arms remained up in the air, as if he was hoping to be picked up.

That made sense to me.  He’d been missing her, far across the room in this unfamiliar place, so stress hormones like cortisol would have been rising.  His brain and body would instinctively have been craving a cuddle, since the reassurance would have brought the cortisol levels down.  Oxytocin would have been boosted too, by her touch, and that would have relaxed him even more.

However, a cuddle is not what happened.  Instead, Mum reached for the handle of the stroller, and moved it back and forth, trying to comfort him by the swaying of the buggy.  I knew that wouldn’t work fully for him, because the swaying of your buggy isn’t the same as the warmth of your mum’s hug.  But I didn’t know how to help the baby this time.  No parent wants an interfering busybody of a stranger telling them how to care for their own child. 

But the baby was still distressed.  His low-level cries of protest continued; his face scrunched; his head hung down in a kind of defeat.  Mum continued to ‘rock’ the stroller with one hand, leaving her other hand free to adjust the coats.  She was now focused on making space at the table, and so she wasn’t looking at his face any longer.  He had neither her gaze nor her touch to draw on for comfort. 

Watching all this, I found myself thinking that her physical closeness would be helping him feel somewhat safer.  The cortisol in his system should at least be levelling off, rather than rising higher.  His overall state wouldn’t change rapidly, though.  Cortisol stays in your system for at least 20 minutes – which is why reassuring touch in this situation is so helpful.  Cuddles kick-start the decrease.

Very soon, Dad and Big Sister came over to the table, having made their choices.  I wondered if the baby might now get a cuddle, or even a hand-hold, since there were more hands available.  This seemed hopeful, because his distress hadn’t ceased.  He was still quietly moaning and looking at the ground.

Let me pause in the midst of my storytelling.  Before I go on, I want to consider what might be happening for you, Dear Reader.  If I am telling this story vividly enough and compassionately enough, then maybe you will be feeling something of the anxiety I was feeling for that baby.

If he can’t get the comforting attention he needs from his family, then he has a problem.  At only 18 months old, his brain is still too immature to fully comfort himself when he is distressed, so he has to look to an outside source for that comfort.  Right there, in that café, in that very ordinary moment, he is learning lessons about where comfort comes from.  It isn’t from his family.

Perhaps, in order to cope with your anxiety for the baby, you might be feeling frustrated with the parents.  Why aren’t they giving him the attention he needs?  That reaction of frustration or exasperation or even anger makes sense to me, because these emotions signal that a situation we are witnessing requires some sort of action.  The trouble is that these emotions easily lead to judgement, and judgement is everywhere these days when it comes to parenting.  Modern parents live with the constant anxiety of being judged harshly.

Consider, for instance, what recently happened to political correspondent Robert Kelly, when was he “interrupted” by his two young children while giving a live television interview to the BBC from his office at home.  His spontaneous response, along with that of his panicked wife (or perhaps nanny – the internet can’t decide), solicited all sorts of criticism from observers.  Commentators on social media began arguing with each other over what response would have been most appropriate, and even the couple’s use of a baby walker was criticised.  My own response was to wonder how I would have reacted as a parent, handling such an unexpected, personally exposing situation, being broadcast live on international television.

So, returning to my story, what happens if we counter any rising sense of judgement with curiosity?  What happens if we wonder what was going on in that moment that kept this little boy’s parents from noticing his distress?  Were public places uncomfortable for them? Had they had to walk a long way in the cold?

What happens if we expand our curiosity even further and wonder what might have happened for them within the last hour or earlier in the day or within their general family interactions?  Had they just had an argument or come from a difficult doctor’s appointment?  Was Mum suffering postnatal depression?  Were they on the edge of divorce?  Did they believe that electronic devices help young children to learn?

And what happens if I search for the words that help this story to prompt curiosity in readers, rather than judgement or anger or blame?  Here are a set of ordinary parents, busy and tired and distracted by the tasks of modern life.  They probably have no idea how scared babies can get, parked far away across the café in a stroller, or that cuddles have a biological impact on a child’s brain.

In that case, how would it be helpful to them if I were to get frustrated about something they did unintentionally?  My curiosity will be more helpful than my frustration could ever be.

And, as it turns out, curiosity is going to be incredibly important for all of us, if we are to reach the end of this story in a compassionate place.  Because it’s about to get worse.

The whole family is now at the table, with Dad sitting next to the baby.  Mum and Big Sister are across the table, stretching out, having taken off the last of their coats.  The baby, though, is still strapped into his stroller, unable to stretch out or shift his posture.  His low level protest cries haven’t stopped, either.  His head is still hanging down, moving slowly back and forth in a restless fashion.

Dad must have noticed though, because he moves to offer the baby a kind of comfort.  He reaches into a bag and brings out a phone.  He hits a couple of buttons, and hands it to the baby.  It must be playing a video.

Sure enough, the baby’s whimpering stops, his head comes up, and his hands cease moving as they grasp the phone.  His agitation fades almost immediately.  He is intensely focused on the display on that phone.

I imagine that the father thinks he has comforted his child.  Outwardly, he does appear calmer and happier. 

As I watch the child’s fierce concentration, though, I think of the dopamine being sparked in his brain.  Dopamine is the hormone of novelty.  We human beings crave it.  It’s the feel good factor.  Dopamine is what gets triggered when we fall in love.  Our brains and bodies yearn for it.  We get addicted to it.

I knew I was watching a father comfort his son’s distress by fostering a biological addiction to technology.

And I knew the father didn’t know that. 

And I knew that when the father would eventually try to take the phone away, the spike in the baby’s disappointment and distress was likely to cause a terrible, wailing conflict – which would further distress everyone in the family. 

And I had no way to explain any of this to them.

Dear Reader, how am I doing? In telling this story, I am trying my best to turn you into a watcher, rather than a reader.  I am trying to have you sit with me in the midst of that café, trying to decide what you would do, how you would feel, what you would think.  I am aiming for that because, of course, we sit down next to ordinary families every day, whenever we walk into cafés.

How do we help ordinary families to understand what science is discovering about children’s development?  How do we help tired parents feel more curious about their baby’s emotional needs?  How do we help them to connect the dots, so that they realise their responses hold long-term, biological consequences for their children?  If this little boy’s brain becomes addicted to the dopamine hit his father’s phone is supplying, the parents will soon have major ‘behavioural issues’ on their hands.  And their little boy will suffer.

The points I am making are not novel ones.  They are part of the reasoning underpinning recommendations by the American Academy of Paediatrics that children under 2 years of age should never view screens alone.  Other organisations have used language shifts to emphasise the biological impacts, arguing that early technology use should be regarded not as an ‘educational’ or ‘cultural’ issue, but as a ‘medical’ one. The author Mary Aiken dedicates several chapters in her new book, The Cyber Effect, to exploring what is happening across our society as children encounter a mismatch between their basic physiological needs and their parents’ technology habits.

I found myself thinking about all this guidance as I watched the final stage of this family’s interactions.  The story doesn’t end happily.

With the baby now (apparently) settled and engaged with the phone, Dad again reached into a bag.  I realised he was taking out his son’s lunch, probably because there was a gap of time available before his own order arrived.  He could feed his son before eating himself.

And that’s what Dad proceeded to do.  He fed his son, spoonful after spoonful of packaged food going into his mouth — while his little boy never took his hands off the phone or his eyes off the display.

The baby didn’t protest.  He didn’t shake his head or refuse.  He passively accepted each spoonful of food the father delivered to his mouth.  His father looked relieved it was going so smoothly.

I knew, though, that this experience meant the baby was not engaged at all with his own body.  He wasn’t developing a conscious awareness of hunger or how to take care of feelings of hunger.  He wasn’t consciously learning about feeling ‘full’ or about ‘relief’ or about ‘companions’.  What he was learning was that you solve uncomfortable feelings with technology. 

The more the baby’s brain experiences that solution, the more the child will be out of touch with his own body.  His internal teddy bear (to use the language I frequently use) will be weaker, less able to comfort him from internal, self-regulatory sources.  He will become more dependent on external sources of comfort, turning to solutions like videos or games or drugs or alcohol or food.  It sounds extreme, to knit these outcomes together, but it is exactly what the research on addiction is teaching us.

I knew I was watching a father nurture an addictive personality within his infant son.  I also knew he had no idea that’s what he was doing.

As I stood to leave the café, 15 minutes later, the rest of the family’s meal was being delivered by the waitress.  Dad could relax.  His son was fed and was engaged in an activity.  He could have his own lunch in peace.

I have no idea what havoc may have descended when it was time for Dad to take the phone away.

That family has clearly stayed with me.  A week on, I’m still thinking about them – and now I’m writing about them, telling their story to a wider world, in the most compassionate way I know.

My hope is that their story, unknown even to themselves, might help other parents feel more curious about what’s going on in their children’s brains and bodies.  And I hope it might help those of us trying to support families, to feel more curious about the unknown struggles going on in parents’ lives.

Curiosity is always more powerful than judgement.

Emotional Safety Standards for strollers and car seats?

What is it with baby transport? Why does it make so many of us feel a bit edgy?

 The image released by Plunket upon fitting a front-facing car seat for Prince George

The image released by Plunket upon fitting a front-facing car seat for 8-month-old Prince George

This month, the Royal Family’s New Zealand tour began with a public row about the direction that Prince George’s car seat faced.  Last month, Sally Goddard Blythe gave a presentation at the Annual WATCH? Conference, about the importance of movement for babies’ development, but the media headlines focused on strollers.  Last week, my blog about a recent New Zealand study on strollers turned out to be my most popular post ever, with 17,000 people around the world reading it to date. The responses to such stories are wide-ranging and emotive: Continue Reading

How buggies shape babies’ brains

Woman pushing buggyIn 2008, I released a piece of small piece of research that caused an international storm. It tried to make a simple point: that the design of strollers shapes our children’s emotional and brain development. The study was, at the time, the only piece of empirical research that I could find that had even tried to explore that possibility.

I thought that parents and manufacturers deserved to know that strollers were important. So did the National Literacy Trust, who commissioned the research, and the Sutton Trust, who funded it.

That shows the far-ranging interest in this issue. The National Literacy Trust is an organization interested in reading, and the Sutton Trust is an educational charity. Yet both of them were interested in baby buggies. They had teachers behind them, urging them to give serious consideration to the idea that strollers could be influencing language development. Primary teachers have been witnessing a steady decrease in children’s linguistic abilities upon starting school, and they had wondered if the fact that so many strollers are now designed to face outward, rather than toward the adult, might be one of a variety of possible factors contributing to that decrease. Continue Reading

How Kate’s buggy will shape the brain of the future King

How Kate’s buggy will shape the brain of the future King

MiddletonIn a few days time, Kate and William are set to become the most famous parents in the world.  And when they walk out with the royal baby, they will be doing so in a Bugaboo stroller.

For those of you who missed this announcement,  it was casually made on St Patrick’s Day at a reception for army wives.  Kate commented to some of those gathered that she had chosen a Bugaboo, also letting slip that she had settled on a light blue colour scheme.  This has led many commentators to conclude that we are all expecting a boy. Continue Reading