Children, their Sacredness, and Social Media Privacy

I had trouble coming up with a title to encompass what I want to say/share with this blog post. First, let me preface by saying that these are feeling I have regarding my child, and do what you feel is best for your own family, based on your own beliefs, and family values. 

What I’m about to discuss is nothing knew, and, as with everything in this crazy kingdom of parenthood, comes with its own vastly differing opinions. When I had my daughter I had no trouble sharing images of her all over the internet. In fact I could barely wait (as could family members, who begged me). I grew up as a teen in the age of social media emergence (hello, Nexopia account and MSN Messenger), and it is just so normal, to share.

Now its the Social Media Kings that we share on: Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat. So, I shared. I love social media and the connections you can make, the sense of sisterhood gained in shared everyday experiences. How you can read something that someone else is going through and just relate and say, “Hey, I could have wrote this myself!,” which is so important in that lonely post-partum year, or two, or three. When you’re (mostly) alone with this one little person who can’t walk, talk, or in the beginning even focus their eyes on you, you want to reach out to other mothers, share experiences, find some belonging in a community. Social media is the easiest way. That, and of course everyone’s own baby is the cutest, cleverest, most brilliant baby they’ve ever met (insert wink).

I’ve “met” so many wonderful people by sharing mine and Alba’s stories, and experiences. Our first year was a good one. I have mom friends all over the world (mostly North America), a lot of these due to me sharing, quite openly, Alba’s photos and our experiences. But, the more I shared, and the closer we got to Alba’s 1st Birthday, the more uncomfortable I got with it. The older and more busy Alba got, the more uneasy I became. When the very first thing I hear from people when they see Alba is, “I see you all over Facebook” (or something along those lines), it really is a bit of a wake up. It made me take a good step back.

Children are good medicine. I got a great reminder of this by reading something from a friend who is about to have her own beautiful baby (and will not be sharing images). She reminded me of how sacred children are. Sacred. That word resonated with me. I know Alba is the most sacred thing in my entire world but in my effort to share and curate, I forgot to protect her sacredness. It’s difficult to not want to share her, as she is so beautiful, witty, and only good things for me but she is her own little person. I love photographing her as well but I was taught to keep Ceremony private. Because of my daughter’s sacredness, in a lot of ways she reminds me of Ceremony. All this realization and internal dialogue has made me question a lot of things in terms of Social Media:

  1. Why do I post? What is the purpose? Who do I post for? Myself? Does posting help me or my loved ones?
  2. Who is my audience? What is their intentions? Why do they need to see images of my baby? Who sees her images with harmful/negative intentions.
  3. What can someone do with the information I’ve put online? Birthdays, full names, etc.
  4. Do I value my daughter’s privacy? She is not a prop. She hasn’t given consent. Will it bother her in the future. Will it impact our future relationship. Will it affect her own relationships with others?
  5. How much time am I spending on Social Media? Too much. Can that time be better spent? Should I spend my time fostering relationships with the people I see day to day?

I ask you to ask yourself these questions. Think long and hard. Pop the bubble of naivety and rose tinted glasses. It’s not fun, but protecting our children is not supposed to be. I have begun to cut back on what I share. I’ve made my pages private, and am going through my followers list and friends list to make sure I recognize and know who I am sharing with. Originally, on Facebook and Instagram, I’ve accepted nearly every request in an effort to get exposure and meet potential photography clients, so my numbers aren’t small and there’s a lot to go through. Separating private/personal from public is necessary. I’ve very recently deleted my Snapchat in an effort to put the phone down a bit more. I’ve started reading a few more books and journaling. I am reevaluating my use(s) of social media and really trying to pinpoint my why. There is a very real addiction that exists and acknowledging it, knowing that I don’t want it for my daughter means I must break that addiction for myself.

 – claudine bull

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Sisters

My two little sisters are a blessing and a curse. I have memories of their births, though some of the details get a little confused. I remember being woken up in the middle of the night and getting carried out to our old chevy pick up truck but I don’t know if my other sister was there. We never went for rides in the middle of the night, only for Christmas Eve Mass, so an outing such as this was not forgotten. The other memory I have is driving to the hospital with my dad and our cat Dax, again I don’t know if my other sister was there. This memory I think is the most important because it shows how unimportant the birth of a sister was to my child mind. We had arrived at the hospital and my mom was lying in bed. She might have been holding my new-born baby sister, or perhaps it was my dad. Then my mom had opened up a drawer, took out a box of smarties and gave me the box of treats. I was so happy about those smarties, nothing else mattered, and that is all I can remember. As a mother I can reflect on my mom’s choices during that night in the hospital so long ago, and I now understand  that I was most certainly being bribed.

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They were so cute back in the ’80s.

Our birth order certainly shaped our personalities; we were your typical trio. As the first born I always had to set an example for my little sisters, and consequently am a little tightly wound up. The middle child, Lynette, had to negotiate within the complicated power relations of our family, and is always wheeling and dealing. The youngest, Bernette, watched her older sisters make mistakes, and now has the “I’ll show them all” attitude. (I still don’t know why my parents went with the “ette”s. I could have been a really good Annette)

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Lynette preparing for our youngest sister’s wedding.

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Bernette giving me the “WTF Amanda?” look.

My sons love hearing me tell stories about my sisters and I growing up, especially the ones where there is fighting involved. I try telling them about how we played with my-little-ponies or pretended to be mermaids in the ditches near the railway tracks, but they prefer to hear about the sister fights. They like to know that we were bad kids too. Like, what kind of young girl in a fit of anger would decide to throw an empty porcelain sheep-shaped Avon perfume bottle at her sister’s head? And what kind of girls would tie up their youngest sister to a chair and then shut off the lights and leave her in the basement? Yeah, my sons love hearing about that one.

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Me and my sisters.

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I see a resemblance between my boys and my sisters when they were kids.

Being the eldest I still feel responsible for my sisters. Sometimes I wonder if my eldest son feels this for his younger brother or not? He is growing up in a very different kind of family than the one that my sisters and I had to deal with. I am providing my boys with a safe and loving environment where they don’t need to protect each other in the home. Growing up I had to watch out for my sisters all the time – the drinking brought out the worst in the adults. My mom did her best to protect us but she wasn’t always there.

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Thanksgive’r tableau.

As adults, we still act like those little girls when we get together. We love to laugh at each other. We break off into pairs, and whisper about the other sister behind her back. We talk about ex boyfriends and poke at old wounds that only we know are there. No one can hurt us like we can. My middle sister recently found out that her partner of 10 years was cheating on her. Her grief is heartbreaking but soon enough she will be back out there wheeling and dealing. Her pain is short term and nothing like the scars that us sisters have inflicted on each other. Those scars are there for us to pick at and to remind us that we are always sisters. This year my youngest sister married her partner with whom she’s been with forever, and now they are finally talking about starting a family, just for me, so I can be an aunty. Hahaha. Perhaps they will start another generation of sisters.

 

Over these years we’ve pushed and pulled each other but we know that we are sisters. We are family and we will always stand by each others sides, no matter what.

-xox your big sis, Amanda Laliberte

 

A Campbell Christmas Montage

I am a Christmas person. I love the lights, I love the spirit of the holiday. I love visiting all my aunts and uncles and friends and having all the fancy Christmas cookies and dainties. For me, Christmas is about family and our traditions, about the laughter and love that comes from everyone coming together. I’m not so much bent on the religious aspects of the holiday, but I have no problem claiming the kinship part of it all.

When we were younger, we would spend Boxing Day at the Farm, by St. Louis, SK. My mom’s side of the family is small, so we would all cram inside Grandma’s house, play on frozen hay bales, go for sleigh rides, and eat the Christmas oranges she would try to hide from us. We were allowed one a day. We generally went through a box a day, ha. She would hide the box of oranges under her bed…. every year. And every year we found them. I remember meat pies and ketchup, and sweet little Eggo’s called la goufettes and

But in Beauval, we would go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. And coming from the North, we are talking about a -35 kind of Christmas Eve. Like fancy dresses then skidoo pants over the fancy dresses kind of cold. And it was legit at midnight. We would have to sit through the hour-long Mass – sometimes more if we got the slow-talker Priest – and run back to the frozen car to warm up before driving back to the Rez to open up our gifts. Every now and then we would go to Patuanak for Midnight Mass – an hour away – and I remember hearing the hymns being sung in Dene and wearing my jacket inside the old, wooden church that had the doors open as the Church was so full people would stand outside to attend Mass. Once home, Mom and Dad would let us open our gifts, but only after Church and with the understanding that meant less gifts to open in the morning. And come Christmas morning, there was always a present from Santa and a stocking full of candy, oranges, peanuts and small toys.

Not too much has changed in how we celebrate Christmas nowadays. Our families have grown. Between snags and sweeties, life long partners and broken hearts, we have built up our family enough that Mom’s house is now much like Grandma Boyer’s house was back in the day – full of laughter and food, cousins and stories. My oldest brother has three boys and his long-time partner, my other brother and his wife have three girls, I have my daughter and my youngest brother brings a new sweetie every Christmas. She’s always interesting. The Christmas tree gets smaller as our present haul get bigger, and Mom tries something new with the stocking every few years to try and make ‘more room’ in our home.

A few years ago, we done away with buying each individual a Christmas Present and instead, draw names out of a hat. I protested loudly. I was outnumbered. Then Mom tried to get rid the stockings and I protested loudly – “Quit trying to ruin Christmas!” She laughed, told me Christmas is for our kids, not for us (“but Im YOUR kid,” I whispered loudly) and we compromised. For the stockings, we each buy a little thing for everyone and stuff the stockings that way. It works for us, and yeah…. the adult kids still get Santa gifts.

BECAUSE SANTA IS MAGIC, y’all.

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2009 // The Campbell Boys – my brothers and my first nephew, Colton. ❤ 

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2009 // How do you say “hella cold” in Dene?

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2010 // Having a baby around on Xmas is always magic 

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2011 // Mom losing it laughing when I forgot I was Santa. 

so, funny story:

Aerie was six months old on her first Christmas. I was living at home with my parents and my partner at the time, and it was heaven. So much help and support. Anyways, we did the Xmas shopping, the holiday baking, blah blah blah. All the usual. We went to Midnight Mass with Aerie, and we opened our family presents when we got back.  So the morning comes, and we rush upstairs, because we are still kids at heart. Tal and my partner and myself all have Santa presents and we’re super happy, then I look around for Aerie’s.

“Mom,” I question. “Where’s Aerie’s Santa gift?”

Mom gave me a look. “What do you mean?”

“Where’s her gift? I don’t see it.” I was looking around and feeling really sad, as it was my baby’s first Christmas.

“Tenille,” Mom said, doing her choking-and-crying-because-I’m-holding-back-a-laugh face, “YOU’RE SANTA. You are Santa to your own daughter.”

“… NO ONE TOLD ME I WAS SANTA!”

Mom laughed so hard that day, and she still laughs when she thinks about it and tries to tell someone the story.

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2011 // Tal holding his goddaughter because she didn’t have a Santa gift + Grandparents came through with a great gift from them ❤ 

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2012 / my newest nephew Connor joined us that Christmas, and Uncle Trent got to put together all the lego’s 

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2012 / we play Aggravation when we’re home. We play for quarters and we aren’t allowed on our phones  – “pay attention we get told – and it’s very, very serious. 

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2013 // there are no Santa gifts unless someone writes him a letter 

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2013 // we moved to stocking bags now, as the stocking socks were getting too full. Mom made all these. 

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2014 // Connor, Kelry and Aerie playing outside on Christmas.

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2014 // when she’s a hunter too // Trent, Darla + TK

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2015 // a quiet Christmas with us and the girls at Mama’s house

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2016 // I got Dad a cup with a sloth on it as he loves the sloth in Zootopia // my favorite Christmases are the ones when we are all there (with Sheylee, Trent, mom and Darla) 

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2016 // Blueberry Cheesecake and La Goufettes. Holiday traditions. 

But for me, my absolute favourite tradition is the one where we make all our kids sit and take a Campbell Kids picture.

Mom used to do this with us – she also used to dress us alike – so we have no pity on our babies. Despite – or maybe because of – the crying faces because they are tired and the scared faces because we are all staring at them and the annoyed faces because they are over this – this is my favourite event of the day. I get to see my babies growing older, I get to see our family grow, and we all get to continue a tradition that our kids will look back at and go “remember this Christmas?

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2013

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2014

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2015

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2016

– 

tenille campbell

Traveling + a Baby

I remember the advice “travel before you have a baby.” It’s like some age-old advice ingrained in our current society, or something like that. So when I became pregnant we discussed vacations and had decided that we’d wait until our baby was a bit older before doing something big and tropical. It seemed the smart, responsible thing to do. “Wait until she can remember.”

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Over this past summer we took a few “mini” vacations within the province.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. It was time for our annual family road trip to Las Vegas (which we missed the previous year because I was pregnant). Its a long drive for us (that we split up into three days of travel), and we’re there for about 7-10 days. Insert some serious nerves about bringing a teething 11 month old on vacation, thanks to above mentioned “advice”. What I wasn’t expecting was that before the end of our trip we’d be planning a tropical vacation for the following year!

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Something never sat well with me and the advice to “live your life” before a baby. I was someone who yearned for motherhood for quite a few years before my husband and I made the leap into parenthood and I remember doing so many things with my extended family wishing I had my own little to enjoy it with me (including going trick or treating every Halloween, I was the aunty without children tagging along, ha!). Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed and fully appreciated the wonderful time when it was just my husband and I in our relationship and I will always value that, but now that my daughter is here I can’t imagine doing life without her!

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Where I’m going with this is that children are not a stay-home-and-fun-life is over sentence that they’re made out to be. Of course there are challenges and changes that need to be made to accommodate them, and I don’t have the experience of parenting a toddler (which is its own challenge) but I can’t help but imagine our ancestors, traveling across North America, with their families in tow. What I take the most from them is that it really does take a village. If you have extended family, relatives willing to help, use them! We were in a fancy restaurant (in our hotel) and my daughter was going nuts in there. There was no way I could eat, when she just wanted to explore. Luckily my mother in law graciously kept her in the hotel room and let her run wild while I enjoyed a meal. She was in her hotel room and I asked, and she happily took the crazy child. Do not be afraid to ask for help if its there.

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Overall, apart from teething and getting sick of her carseat, my 11 month old did so good on this trip and it was worth it seeing her eyes get huge at all the new things to see. It seems she came home a new baby, so much further developmentally than where she was before we left. It may have just been good timing, or the the experience itself but she knows and understands so much more now. We enjoyed ourselves and now we can’t wait to take her to the ocean within the year. I could kick myself for thinking to not travel with a baby, and that to do big trips she should remember. I’m going to remind myself to enjoy this time with her and even though she will not remember, that these experiences enrich her life regardless, and mine as well.

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Laugh with me

Since my family and I moved from Alert Bay to Victoria, all I’ve been thinking about is how much I miss laughing with my friends up island. My first week back in the city I was texting them and telling them that people weren’t laughing at my stories. I was never much of a story teller but something in me changed. I learned a few things about living in a small community during my three years in Alert Bay, and the most important teaching that I picked up is that shit happens and we are all in it together so let’s laugh about it.

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I remember the laughter of my relatives in Saskatchewan. Most of the time we laughed because someone was being teased. I close my eyes and I can see my aunties with their eyes squinted, heads titled up to the sky with big smiles, I hear their cackles and I smell their cigarettes. It didn’t matter who was being teased; we all laughed, especially the one being teased.

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When I was little, my dad was always away working up North and my mom didn’t have very much time to herself, between cleaning other peoples homes and taking care of my sisters and I. She had to bring us along to do everything with her. There were the lawyers and doctors homes that our mom cleaned while we vacuumed or daydreamed about living different lives. We went to the the bank where we were told to behave while all four of us stood and waited in the line, and eventually one of us would start to swing on the stanchions (my husband had to look that one up) and we’d either get a scowl from a back teller or our mother. And now I have the convenience of an ATM or doing my banking from home without distractions. She brought us along to the grocery store (I need to practice deep breathing to avoid loosing my shit when I take the boys to the grocery store) where we would be told that if we behaved we could have a free cookie from the bakery. In the days of no iPads or iPhones my mom would visit her friends at their homes and tell us to sit and behave, there were no electronic distractions. I remember that as I got older, I enjoyed listening to the adults talk and laugh. Their was Milli, who was like a kohkum and we all called her Milli Vanilli. She lived in a small apartment where we would look at the most recent items that she knitted or beaded. There my mother would learn how to make moccasins. I would listen to them talk about their week and notice when their voices became quiet which was when I tried harder to hear what they were talking about and then suddenly they would erupt in laughter. In the evenings we would go visit Leah. She was such a tiny lady with a huge personality, great hair and a big heart. She was always, always laughing; it was infectious. We would go to her place to visit but also to do some shopping. It was her place where my mom bought my very first and only pair of brand new Guess jeans, the pair with the ankle zippers. They were so cool and I wore them with my favourite purple silk blouse. Leah was earning her money on the side while my mom was trying to please her eldest daughter who refused to go shopping at the Sally Anne. Years later I learned that Leah died while being held in a prison cell in Saskatoon.

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In my circles we laugh, sometimes too much and I am told by a three year old that -we are too loud and that it is not funny. My laughter had always been loud but after living in Alert Bay, it is even louder. Not too sure how that is possible but it has happened. I always knew how to laugh but living in Alert Bay awoke something within me – I learned how to laugh like my aunties and grannies used to. We were always laughing. We laughed at everything and anything. If you were hurt, we laughed.  If you were sad, we laughed. If my husband told his “wing wing” joke, we laughed but not always. And its that laughter that allows us to survive even when we are hurting.

-Amanda Laliberte

it’s in the quiet times…

I did something extreme this summer – something that has caused me a lot of grief, guilt and shame.

I know… what an intro.

My parents are taking care of my kid for the summer.

There, I said it.

I feel wrong just saying it.

There is so much to unpack here.

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It started in the middle of June. I went to Vancouver for two weeks for two academic conferences and my Mom was watching my baby at my place in Saskatoon. And we chatted about it – and she agreed to watch Aerie for the summer up North. I’m still studying for my PhD (one day I will write more about this) and I am working hard on passing a big test that will determine whether or not I continue in academia in two freaking weeks. So much pressure, and on top of all this – blogging, photography, and a new book out to promote. Mom saw all this and was offering to come stay with me in the city, but she hates the city. And Aerie loves the North. It was easy to see that Aerie going North would help me out so much, and that it would be easiest for my parents.

Let me say this right away – I am so blessed to have my parents around to be able to do this, and the only person feeling guilty about this is me. My parents love having Aerie, and she loves being up there. There are no problems there at all.

So this guilt, this shame, and this self-loathing – it’s all internal.

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I like to say that this is an example of a community raising the child, which is an idea that I have taken to ever since my ex and I broke up. Although he and I are still friends, I am the primary parent of our child. And I do need help – and help is here. My brothers and their families, my parents, my best friends, my friends, and so on. If I need help, I just have to ask. Aerie is loved by many, and that is so good. She has a million aunties, just like any rez kid.

So she is doing amazing. She swims, boats, fishes, road trips, eats all the foods, makes all the friends. She is having a dream summer. We talk everyday and I make the trip down to see her very 7-10 days or so, even if it’s just for a night. But this was the longest time we have ever spent apart, and everyone has a comment.

Taking the summer to focus on my academic needs and myself gives me insane guilt, and that’s ok. I know – I KNOW – that this is the best for her and I right now, and that I needed this extra time to focus. But it’s hard.

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It’s hard when my own brothers make “you’re like an auntie to her ha ha ha” comments, while they sit in their two-parent relationships. It takes everything in me to not verbally cut them down because Mama raised me better than that. And I react because I fear what they say is true. Which is insane, I know, but I’m still teary just thinking about it.

It’s hard when I get asked by friends who don’t know the situation – “Where’s Aerie?” I drown in guilt and massive explanations when I don’t need to. I want to justify this to everyone, and I’m the only one who needs that.

It’s hard when it’s quiet at night, and I turn on a cartoon, just so I can feel like she’s around. It’s hard when I wake up in the middle of the night, thinking she called for me, and I remember she’s not there. When I go grocery shopping, and she’s not there, trying to sneak in her favourite snacks. So many moments where I miss the every day feeling of having her by my side.

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But there is a light – we are coming down to the end of summer. Her days at the beach are getting shorter. Her hair is getting longer. Her tan is incredibly dark, and she is thinking about her Grade 1 class and who will all be in there. My exams are coming up, and soon after that, she will be home with me. Those early morning cuddles where I have to convince her to get up – I can’t wait. Our Friday afternoon Starbucks dates – I can’t wait.

I really didn’t even wanna share this – I hate sharing my struggle – but I do know that the academic world is not women-friendly, it’s not Indigenous-friendly, it’s not mother-friendly. And that to succeed, sometimes we have to make sacrifices. This was mine. I gave up my summer with my kid.

But it’s only my sacrifice – as this was Aerie’s gain.

These were the moments where her relationship with her grandparents, her community, her land, and her culture – it only got stronger.

And come the Fall, I can’t wait to hear her stories.

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 – tenille k campbell

Sleep and a Baby

Ah. Sleep. Five letters, a short word, but it’s undoubtedly a central topic to new parents happiness (and sanity). I don’t have any sleeping advice other than the age old “sleep when the baby sleeps” (which I did and it is amazing advice), but I do want to share my experience with our sleep and our now (almost) 8 month old. If you follow me on Instagram, a lot of my posts lately are centred around sleep, and getting Alba a good sleep. I’m obsessed right now, and for good reasons.

** Before I share our experience, I do want to preface with this – you know your baby, and do what works best for you and your family. I am not a medical professional, and if you have any questions regarding sleep and safe sleep, please ask your paediatrician.**

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We’ve been blessed with a good sleeper since Alba was born (or maybe I’m wearing rose tinted glasses and I’m not remembering properly). It’s not often that I was completely sleep deprived where I felt like I could cry. Of course I’ve experienced it, but not constantly throughout her newborn stage. Most often if she was upset or awake, we could figure out the why of it.

By a “good sleeper”, I mean relatively to what I’ve seen/heard other babies do in my limited experience with babies. In my mind, she’s a good sleeper.

That all being said, she was a good sleeper based on our various soothing techniques. One being swaddling, the other one being her pacifier.

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Before I discuss our experience and reasons for a pacifier, I do want to share a little about where Alba sleeps. My original plan was for her to be in the bassinet beside us but it turns out I’m mush when it comes to my kid (figures). I am much happier when she is attached to me. She would also sleep happier/longer with me near (she has a good sniffer and she knows when her favorite person isn’t close). Also, she had reflux which made sleeping trickier when she was tiny (poor thing had an upset tummy and hated being flat on her back). All of this boils down to bed-sharing. It varies (more on that later) now but the fact remains that when I am sleeping, she is sleeping near me. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but it’s all I’ve known and almost everyone I know does it. We did choose it though, and I’ve loved it. I love cuddling her. I am ready to take steps away from it though.

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So, we introduced the pacifier when Alba was a newborn. From my understanding, there is some controversy with pacifiers (like everything else that pertains to child-rearing), with the main opinion that I’ve found being “they don’t need that.” We introduced one anyway and the main reason being was that I read that it can help reduce SIDs. Now, there are drawbacks to the pacifier, one being related to use past toddlerhood and oral development, and the other being a sleeping crutch that can be backbreaking in itself if it falls out. But, I thought I would face those head on later when the time came and that it was worth it if it would help prevent Alba from dying in her sleep. I don’t mean to sound so blasé about it, and I thought of using a euphemism but that fact of the matter is, I do look a lot at ways I can actively prevent Alba’s death. When it comes to sleeping situations I look at all the hazards. In fact, that’s my main life goal now as her mother, so why beat around the bush about it. Morbid, I know, but I find sticking my head in the sand isn’t the way I parent. Since Alba was premature, she was a higher risk for SIDs so I figured if her paci would help in even just the smallest way to help prevent it, sign us up!

(Please, please, please bear in mind that that this doesn’t mean I think that YOUR child will succumb to SIDs if you don’t introduce the pacifier, that is not my intention for you to think that. I am just giving you a peek into my mind that is always in overdrive when it comes to Alba, and how I convinced myself that she needed one. There’s enough crazy parenting advice out there that I don’t want to muck up the waters with my own. I’ve gotten enough “I don’t do what you do, I’m such a bad parent” comments that I was hesitant to write this post, because that is not my opinion nor my intention when I share. My opinion is DO WHAT WORKS BEST for your family, for your mental health, and for your baby.).

And of course the other reason I wanted Alba to have a pacifier was because I didn’t want to be one. It’s true, they do not need pacifiers, so that opinion is more of a fact, but it also doesn’t hurt her the way it seems to be implied when people tell me she doesn’t need her soother (which we lovingly refer to as “Sue Sue” by the way).

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So, the pacifier was introduced with gusto from me for my personal reasons stated above and at first she didn’t care too much for it. Eventually it became a wonderful sleep association for her and also a cue to me on if she was tired so it definitely opened some communication doors for us.

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I look at months 2-5 as Alba’s sleeping pinnacle. This is the time I look back on with stars in my eyes. She wasn’t eating as much at night, and she could fall asleep when I’d put her down awake (so long as she had Sue Sue with her), and she could nap anywhere. I would gush to my husband, “I can’t believe our dream baby.” At this time we were putting her down in her pack and play and then pulling her into bed with us a few hours later at her first feed. It was good times. Then husband left to work when Alba was 5 months old for 2.5 months and that made for a LOT of cuddle time with just me and Alba. It was a beautiful thing too. At the time it was glorious as well. During his time away, I stopped using the pack and play, Alba also started rolling so we stopped swaddling. Alba’s dad came home and of course we wanted our evenings back to binge on Grey’s Anatomy and enjoy each other’s company. I was a fool to think she’d go back to her old ways because she was not having any of the pack n play anymore. So it was the three of us, all the time. I started thinking to myself “is this how it’s going to be until she goes to kindergarten?!” “What about baby number 2?!” On top of that, Alba had started to “comfort nurse” and it’s become a sleep association for her.

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Insert the crib. I figured she’d like it a little better than her pack n play, and I do want to transition to sleeping in there full time eventually. Also, since she started rolling I just can’t handle leaving her on the bed unsupervised. The livingroom/kitchen is so far from our room that even if she did fall I wouldn’t hear her cry. She also rolls fast. I also invested in a decent baby monitor.

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My first goal was to get her to nap in the crib and now at nearly 8 months, all her naps are in there. I’ll admit its a delicate dance to get her to sleep in there (timing her naps properly, making sure she’s well fed and drowsy enough, not overtired) but its working out well for us. Night time, she is still with us.

As she moves more and more, I do feel like the time of bed-sharing is coming to an end for us. I think sleep is so important and I do believe that once we figure it out, she will sleep better and longer at night in her crib (she doesn’t wake up at night but we do what feels like a bazillion dream feeding sessions which is disrupting her sleep and my sleep). Not only that, I was a terrible sleeper my whole life and I needed my mom to sleep. I can’t sleep alone. I spent all of 8th grade in her room on the floor, and maybe a part of me wants to prevent that with Alba. Now as we transition her out. I am faced with questions like introducing a lovey, taking away her pacifier (so I don’t have to wake up to put it back in), what is the best consistent bed time routine for her, will I ever fall asleep again if she’s not next to me? All of which I will have to make decisions about soon.

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For some people bedsharing/cosleeping is the best choice ever and it works well for some families well into toddlerhood (or later). It can be a great choice for a family when done safely. Personally, for us, and for Alba, I think it’s a good idea to give her the tools to sleep better on her own. Also, its not selfish for mama’s and papa’s to take care of themselves and Alba just seems to be needing more dream feeds the more time passes and this mama needs a good nights sleep. So mama friends, give me your tips, advice, experiences on how you got baby out of your bed? Maybe something that worked for you will work for us. I am currently reading Precious Little Sleep by Alexis Dubief and it has been an amazing resource so far. Highly recommend.

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*These sleeping pictures are just that, pictures. Some are styled and some are how she fell asleep (with her bunny) and ALL are supervised. When baby is sleeping unsupervised, there should be nothing that creates an entrapment hazards. No blankets, pillows, stuffies. No dangling cords or anything within reach of the crib. No bonnets, headbands, hats. Proper sleep clothes. When I leave Alba in her crib, she only gets her soother in there with her.

 – claudine bull