The Ferber Method all over again

When Braeden was a year old, I took him to a well baby visit at our doctor's office.  I loved our pediatrician and trusted her.  She asked me if Braeden was sleeping through the night.  I said, "No."  Was that even a thing?  I felt like I was destined to a lifetime of sleepless nights.

She handed me a book called, The Ferber Method.  As a student of this motherhood gig, I had read about the Ferber Method and I thought it was barbaric.  Let your baby cry himself to sleep?  Sounded awful.  It wasn't until I read the book that it resonated with me.  It made perfect sense.  In a small degree, it was introducing self reliance.  It turned out to really work for us.  (I, of course, pass no judgment on the way mothers get their babies to sleep.  It's all about survival, so whatever works.)

As a young mother, I was also a big believer in being prepared.  If I had a well stocked diaper bag, life went a lot better.  A little container of Cheerios and a sippy cup of water got me through many a dicey situation.

The reason I've been thinking about all this is because I'm working on an entirely different preparation.  I am sending my boy on a mission.  I get fixated on small things like a first aid kit.  I know he doesn't need anything elaborate.  Wal-Marts dot the country.  I am trying to think of eventualities though.  What if he slices his finger while cooking?  He will need a band aid right then, so I should send him some.  I keep thinking about the many circumstances that will more than likely happen.  A head-ache, a cold, an upset stomach.  I realized I'm thinking so much about a first aid kit because I want to be there to take care of him.  I won't be.  He will have to take care of himself in the case of any of those maladies.  What's more, he is capable of doing so and if he isn't, it is good for him to figure out how.

It feels a little like the Ferber Method.  Even though I didn't really like letting my babies figure out how to soothe themselves to sleep (I hadn't minded so much bouncing Braeden around in my arms until he fell asleep), I recognized it was good for them.

I don't like the thought of not being there to take care of my boy, but I also recognize that it is good for him.

I'll send him a few band-aids and a bottle of Advil and hope for the best.  And I'll pray.  Adam has said many times that Braeden gets by on his personality and my prayers.  Let's hope the combination keeps working.