jenn_unplugged | What she said.

"Having older children has afforded me the perspective I lacked the first time around. My children have taught me how quickly babyhood passes. I am proud now that I didn't cave in to the pressures of others around us; instead following my heart as I gently nurtured all of my babies.

"I look upon my older children now and I like what I see. They are kind, sensitive, and caring young people, and I've tried very hard to instill solid values. Yet they are still young enough to react without thought, on an instinctual level, to certain situations. [...] When their baby brother cries, all three of them run to his aid. When one of the three is hurt, the others offer an ice pack, a soothing word, or a hug. From the depths of their unjaded souls, they cringe when they see a parent ignore a wailing baby. [...] It's not all instinct, however; I believe that my commitment to handling all my babies gently -- my refusal to let them cry it out -- has contributed to the sensitive people they are today.

"My three older children all play baseball, so Coleton and I spend much of our springtime at the ballpark. His first baseball season he was five months old. Since I was a coach on my daughter's team, Coleton spent his time in the dugout and on the field nestled in his sling, watching the action and listening to the cheers, chants, and noise of play. Between swings at bat the girls would often pass him around from one to the other, entertaining him and trying to make him giggle.

"That same season I met another mother with a baby boy the same age as Coleton. She always arrived with her little son belted into his car seat-stroller travel system. There he would remain, parked at the edge of the bleachers. His reclining position in the seat gave him a view of the sky and trees. When he fussed, his mother would prop a bottle in the seat, and he would drink until he fell asleep.

"As I chatted with this other mother, as baseball moms do, I discovered the difference extended beyond the field. While Colton's nights were spent sleeping with his Mommy by his side, nursing whenever he felt the need for comfort, the other mother was practicing sleep training -- putting her baby in his crib at bedtime and ignoring his cries until the apporopriate morning hour, 'teaching' him to 'self-soothe' himself to sleep.

"Both Coleton and this other baby were quiet babies. Rarely would you hear either one of them cry. But, as I contemplated the lives of these children, I wondered how their early experiences would color their futures. Coleton's early life was filled with people -- their warm arms, happy faces, cuddles and touches, He was always in the middle of life, not only enjoying his own experiences, but also observing the experiences of others. His night were no different than his days: someone was always there to heed his call. This other baby's early months were spent strapped in his stroller, hearing people but from an uninvolved distance except for the occasional visitor who leaned over his seat. His nights were vast hours of loneliness, his cries ignored.

"Coleton's early life was filled with the golden communication of humanity, where he will most likely search to be as he grows. The other baby was shown independence and aloneness during the first part of his life. Yes, they both may have been content babies, but content with entirely different worlds -- one that was people-centered and one revolving around separateness from people. I find myself wondering: how will these early experiences color the men these babies will become?

"As you move through these early months with your baby, tale time to consider how today's actions will affect your child in the long run. This process will help you toss off unwanted advice as you work through your own sleep solutions."

-- Elizabeth Pantley, The No Cry Sleep Solution, pp. 243-245.

Yes to that. A WORLD of YES.