Trichotillomania

In November 2012, I noticed my daughter had a swath of eyebrow hair missing.  She'd been staying with her father that weekend, and when she returned there was a one-inch segment just completely gone.  I talked to her about it, and she kept insisting she didn't know how it had happened.  I eyed her suspiciously, thinking perhaps she'd found a safety razor and was "experimenting", or maybe she'd leaned in over a candle.  I knew about the "hair pulling disorder" and it did cross my mind, but I shook off the idea, convinced it wouldn't happen to my daughter.  Thinking the matter was a singular mysterious moment, I let it drop and moved on.

The next night "A" complained that her eyes were really itchy, so I brought her a washcloth to soothe them.  As I laid the cloth on her eyes, I noticed she was missing a bunch of upper eyelashes from the eye opposite of the bare eyebrow.  A certainty came crashing down on me.  That hair-pulling disorder I'd read about seemed to start this way... and so we talked about it.  She was, at first, afraid of being in trouble.  She cried as I tried to assure her that I wasn't mad, I told her I just wanted to help her.  She seemed to feel immensely better about it after a few minutes; I had assured her we'd do everything we could to help her.  Like most seven year-old's she had the up-most faith that once Mom was on the case, it would certainly right itself up quickly.  The first stop would be to the pediatrician's office.

The next day the diagnosis was pretty clear - her problem was unlikely a skin or hair condition, but most likely an issue with trichotillomania.  She was pulling the hair out of her eyebrows and eyelashes; sometimes she meant to do it, and sometimes she did it while she was "spacing off."  I brought her home and dove into the internet, trying to find out all the information I could on how to help her.  We started a reward chart, I went out and bought prizes.  I bought her silly putty and koosh balls - anything to keep her hands busy.  I spoke with her teacher about helping remind her at school.  So far, so good.  We were going to beat this trichotillomania in record time!  There were a few setbacks, even at first, but my daughter would tell me she caught herself pulling and had stopped herself.  Horrah!  We are making such great strides!

Then, nearing Christmas time both her and I started forgetting about the reward chart.  Things were seeming so easy, it didn't seem to matter too much.  I had bought a help book on trichotillomania that I really hadn't opened.  Certainly we were doing so well that I'd never need to do much more than flip through it!  Ah yes, my hopes were high.  And then, of course, these expectations and hopes came crashing down once reality kicked back in.  We couldn't just assume we'd beaten this disorder in less than a month...  A week after Christmas another small patch of eyebrow hair went missing, we figured out she was pulling before bed so she happily decided to wear "fancy gloves" (dress up gloves) to bed to ward off the temptation.  See! We were fixing this!

Last night, as "A" sat on my knee at the computer, I noticed that her eyelashes looked quite thin.  On second look, both eyelashes looked half-plucked clean.  She told me she knew she was pulling, but she didn't just stop - she liked the feeling.  I was so disappointed in her.  How could she pull again?  Why didn't she just stop pulling when she noticed she was doing it?  I showed her photos online of girls without their eyelashes, and talked to her about how she was going to want those eyelashes when she was older.  "A" cried, and said she was sorry.  My heart was heavy like a lump of cold clay.  I thought we had this disorder under control, ready to be put behind us soon.  We talked some more and "A" said she'd try harder.  I hugged her and she went upstairs to play.

Sitting at my desk, a dawning realization came over me.  I had handled that totally wrong.  "A" didn't need to feel ashamed.  She didn't need my disappointment or anger.  This disorder was something bigger than my own ego and the way I had reacted could send my darling "A" into a spiral of bad self-esteem.  I was so wrong.  I had to fix this.

I went upstairs and sat on her bed, drawing her near.  "A" laid her head in my lap, but wasn't looking at me.  I told her "I came upstairs to tell you I am so sorry."  I went on to tell her she was a wonderful, beautiful girl (eyelashes or no eyelashes) and that I was sorry I made her feel bad about her hair pulling.  I explained to her that I was just frustrated - at myself - because I was so used to being able to fix everything, and this one issue was going to have to be mostly up to her.  "A" told me she loved me.  She cried and told me I was the best momma.  I cried and told her I would try to be even better for her. 

So... I think I'm learning. Trichotillomania is not a disorder we are going to overcome by becoming complacent or pushing aside.  "A" doesn't need my disappointment, frustration, confusion, or ego in this matter.  My only role here, as hard as it is for me, is to support her and try to help her help herself.  This is going to be hard, for both of us.  I only hope I can do right by "A", and let her know I'm here for her.

It's okay to cry.

There seems to be an ever-increasing trend towards ensuring your baby / child doesn't cry.  I see it all over the internet, peppered throughout worried posts on Facebook, and hear it from the mouths of attachment parents at the park.  Ever since Doctor Sears told the well-meaning parenting masses that a crying baby will go so far as experience brain damage just from the act of feeling anxious and experiencing stress, parents en mass have coddled their little ones in righteous fear of damaging their precious little selves and brains.  This is despite the fact that the science behind Dr. Sears' studies is a little more than misleading.

I'm not sure what it is about the new parenting generation as a whole which has gathered so many to the ideas of attachment parenting.  Perhaps it's that our generations (those of us currently 18-35) spent less time with our mothers and fathers, and therefore less time with our extended families as well.  Maybe because of this we (as an ambiguous whole) seek to pour ourselves into our children in order to ensure that they don't suffer the same perceived alienation that we did as children. 

The question of what is "best" for our children is what drives the "Mommy Wars" and what fuels the hateful fire between different parenting doctrines.  Some well-meaning parents can not seem to draw the line between themselves and their beliefs, and this leads to some extremely personal lashing out all across web forums and Facebook.  It's sad, really, when something which is rooted in love (the desire to do our up-most for our beloved children) twists into hateful behavior.  I know this is nothing new in the history of humankind; it just seems painfully ironic when in context with the "enlightened" approach of rearing children.  The parents don't want to damage the fragile egos of their children or push them to become someone the children are not - but these same parents will shatter a fragile new mother's self esteem without a second thought.  After all, those other people are just so wrong in what they believe.

I just worry about attachment parenting in the context of what kind of people are being sent into the world.  We already have a problem with children and teenagers who have been ignored and placated into believing they have the right to do whatever they want and say whatever they want.  The children and teenagers I see right now are often entitled, spoiled, and rude.  Now we're pushing through a generation of children who grow up believing that any obstacle will be handled for them.  These children will be a group of children who co-slept with their parents until they were ten, who were held every moment despite circumstance, who were coddled if life doesn't go their way all the time (which, it won't) and who innately believe that their happiness is to trump everyone else's.  It makes me cringe which I envision this world.

I do believe (almost) everyone has the right to their own parenting doctrine.  (The exception being those who deliberately or negligently abuse or mistreat their children.)  I believe love is a powerful thing, and children who are loved carry that power and confidence with them their whole lives.  I just disagree with the idea that it's wrong to let your baby/child cry.  Therapists often promote crying as a way to self heal and self nurture.  Learning to cry and to self soothe is part of a healthy life.  As functioning adults, we can't expect to have others soothe us every time we're upset. 

I'm not suggesting that someone let their baby or child cry unheeded for hours and hours.  I just don't see why we need to fear a child crying while they are in the presence and protection of a loving adult.  When I put my own daughter through "sleep training" at 3 months old, I wouldn't let her cry for more than 5 minutes (at first) without coming into her room and calming her down with affectionate back rubbing or cheek soothing.  Very gradually the time between my visits increased as we crossed developmental milestones - but never do I believe that my daughter thought I wouldn't come.  She did learn to sleep on her own and to calm herself down.  She learned to play or sing by herself before she fell asleep.  A lot of times I cried when she cried - but I stuck it out in order to help her have healthy sleep and boundaries.  At seven year old my daughter is a very happy, loving, affectionate little girl who is happily independent with her peers and family.  She is among the top of her class, reading well above her grade level, and she knows it's okay to cry (within limits) when she feels like it.  I don't see any brain damage with her whatsoever.

There's a difference between a positive stress response and toxic stress, as a 2005 Harvard study goes into great detail about.  The stress a loving parent puts their baby or child through when they let them cry to sleep, or say "No, you can't have that toy." is the kind of stress which does not harm your baby.  Without learning how to deal with this kind of stress, how are these children going to face the world?  How are they going to enter into school, facing the kinds new stress even preschool presents?

A final thought, which isn't mine but sums it up very nicely:

"[Stress] is not a one-size-fits-all term, and frankly, discussions like that in Psychology Today are damaging and trivializing the reality of toxic childhood stress. There’s a world of a difference between one young child who cries himself to sleep with nurturing parents hovering in the next room and one who cries night after night and is never comforted."  Anna Reismann, www.Slate.com, "Tender Young Brains" 01/18/12

"Crunchy Granola" parents: please consider me "Cheerio's"

My daughter is a tall, healthy, beautiful girl of seven.  She’s within her ideal weight range, and she’s tall for her age (thanks to her father’s genetic code – definitely not mine!)  My daughter, let’s call her “A”, was a charming baby full of energy and with enough independence and fearlessness to instill in me a sense of watchful responsibility over her from early on.  A family member once joked to me that children’s jobs are to try to off themselves as frequently and creatively as possible; the parents’ jobs are primarily to prevent them from success.  “A” held up her head most of the time as a newborn (which I was both proud and fearful over.  After all, isn’t her head supposed to loll off if she does that?  I was so overly cautious with her!) She was determined to stand while you held her from just a few months after birth.  By nine months old “A” was pulling herself up on the sofa and then tentatively tottering over the few steps to the fish tank on her own.  At ten months old “A” would exclaim “fissy!” when she reached the fish tank.  Like most enthralled and diligent mothers, I recorded each vocabulary event in her baby book.  I logged in over 100 words she could say by her first birthday.  Two months later the list was up to over 250 and I stopped recording the seemingly daily expanding vocabulary which erupted from her cute little mouth.  By the time she was fifteen months she was speaking in short sentences.  At sixteen months she could tell you all the basic colors, and could enthusiastically sing you the entire alphabet song.  A year and a half old, and “A” knew each letter by sight and most numbers up to ten as well (for some reason three’s and seven’s would sometimes mix around.  The child’s mind is a fascinating thing!)

If you’ve gotten this far in my pointless seeming litany of baby triumphs for my precious “A”, let me let you in on the big dark secret this story is hiding.  I didn’t breastfeed “A”.   Not even once.  I didn’t have a medical condition which prevented me.  I didn’t pump and feed her breast milk via glass bottles with organic toxin-free nipples.  “A” started her life on regular formula, two months later was shifted to soy formula to combat loose stools and gas, and never had a problem on it afterwards.


 I double spaced between these paragraphs so that the rage-fire of some granola mommies can really have time to kick into gear.  What I chose to do, to some, is tantamount to declaring publicly that I’m a bad mommy who doesn’t love her child.  Already some minds are spinning up factoids, studies and attachment parenting references in which to fire at me due to my clear lack of knowledge on the subject.  First, let me say that I’m informed on the subject quite well.  Second, I’m genuinely sorry that mothers act this way towards each other.  It’s most especially cruel since most often the mothers who are most outspoken and zealous about their way of parenting are the ones who take time and consideration into raising their children.  In short, these are the women whose basic outlook would identify with my own.

See, I had reasons of my own for not breastfeeding.  I also had reasons of my own to sleep-train my child at 3 months to sleep in her own bed in her own room.  (I never shared a bed with my infant as any sort of plan.)   I had reasons I didn’t carry her in a sling (I did try that Baby Bjorn front/backpack thing a few times, and it was awkward for me and “A”.)  I had reasons I used disposable diapers (sorry landfills) and disposable wet wipes and fed my baby those puffy Gerber snacks when she was old enough to masticate them. These reasons are mine alone, and as a mother I reserve the right to act as I see according to my reasons and beliefs.

These are the issues which some crunchy granola mothers take to reckoning when evaluating me on my “mother-worthiness”.  I had one mother, in fact, who flat out told me I shouldn’t pretend to care about my child’s best interests when obviously I didn’t care at all since I didn’t breastfeed.  Another mother told me I was poisoning my child when I gave her some Skittles after a doctor’s appointment.  And yet another parent told me I was heartless when she found out that I let my wonderful little “A” cry herself to sleep at 10 months old as part of her sleep-training (trust me, that one wasn’t easy on me at all.)

The point which I’m trying to make here is this; in light of the rise in prominence of “natural” parenting, some women have started focusing on completely the wrong things (in my opinion.)

Just because my parenting techniques differ, and my parenting philosophy doesn’t match someone else's – shouldn’t the evaluating factors really be more about what sort of care we give a child and what sort of person we (as parents) are putting forth in the world?

To dispel some of the myths which, in my experience, are not true regarding a mother who doesn’t breastfeed, please bear in mind:


1.  My daughter and I are, and always have been, extremely attached to one another.  We share a very bonded relationship.   Choosing not to breastfeed hasn’t harmed our relationship in any way.
I’d wager that the studies in which this idea was gleaned from didn’t take into account that for some mothers not breastfeeding equates to less time spent with the baby.  From the moment “A” was born I couldn’t stop touching her soft cheeks, looking into her eyes, talking with her, playing with her, teaching her, hugging her, and smelling her head for that wonderful baby smell.  I’d garner that all the physical and emotional contact I had with her would more than account for why we are so close to one another.

2.  My daughter is at the head of her class, top 10% of her grade level on state and national levels, and reads almost two full grade equivalencies ahead of her classmates.  My choices in her nutritional upbringing had no negative impact on her mental abilities.  My bet is that because I worked with her, played with her, talked with her, showed her the alphabet, delighted in her learning, strove to teach her anything and everything she could absorb - - well, I’d bet that had something to do with it.

3.  “A” was a very healthy baby.  Between birth and one year, “A” had one bad cold, and one illness with fever.  She’s had a total of 4 ear infections in her entire life.  She’s healthy, happy, and looks forward to doctor and dentist appointments.  She does have a very slight far-sighted issue, which is most likely from the same genetics which gave her those long tall legs, rather than a nutritional deficiency.

4.  “A” is a well behaved child; well, as well behaved as an intelligent seven year-old can be.  Let’s just say she isn’t the child running amuck in the department store.  She’s not the child talking loudly in the booth behind you.  She’s still holds my hand when we cross the street.  She says “please” and “thank you” and needs fewer reminders of these things every day.  Good manners were important to me as a person, and therefore as a parent.  My choices in how she ate, slept, and were carried didn’t factor into personality disorders or rude behavior.  I’ve been told my household is “calm” and “quiet”.  I’d like to think it is.  And then, sometimes, you have a fifty pound seven year old barreling at you while yelling like a Scottish renegade.  This, I think, is entirely normal.

I’m sure there’s more I could refer to, but I’m pretty sure this is going to be long-winded enough without citing other examples of my daughter’s bright personality and possibility.   Basically, to me, this all boils down to one true thing:

Good parents shouldn’t cat-fight each other because we don’t share the same parenting doctrine.

Parenting choices aren’t supposed to be about being superior, being the infamous and elusive “best parent”, nor about kicking out at others’ choices in order to ease the anxiety of your own decisions.  In the same way that it’s not about buying that $4,000 crib; it’s not about being superior or elitist about the parenting issues which you believe in. 

Parenting is about doing the best for your child.  “The best” is subjective.  Some days my “best” is a morning play date, followed by a bike ride, followed by a healthy picnic lunch, and concluding with reading four chapters out of Harry Potter to my darling “A”.  Other days, my best is trying to get some house cleaning done while she alternately plays upstairs or watches Netflix.  The main ingredient to good parenting is caring.  You care enough to try to be your best.  You care enough inform yourself of how to better your child.  And you care enough to hold that child every day and tell them how much you love them.

So, I’m asking all of you this – no matter what your personal parenting doctrine is.  If you see a healthy, smart, happy child and can only think about what you’d be doing differently – keep your mouth closed, and smile at the parent who is getting it right by chance or plan.  Truth is, we could all use a little more support for our decisions (even if it’s only support by omission.)