Ferberizing Your Young Adult

Monday, July 20th, 2009

Emma slept through the night at seven-and-a-half weeks, and was a marathon napper through toddlerhood. I never had to contend with letting non-sleeping babies cry. I never needed to know about “Ferberizing.”

Ferberizing, named after its inventor, Dr. Richard Ferber, is a method of encouraging independent sleep by allowing a baby to cry for progressively longer intervals without excessive soothing. The real trick is to increase the parents’ ability to wait out their infants’ crying without rushing in to pick them up. Staunch adherents of the attachment parenting style promoted by renowned pediatrician Dr. William Sears view Ferberizing as verging on child abuse. Many exhausted parents swear by it, but warn that it is not for the faint-hearted: You have to be able to tolerate your baby crying, sometimes for long periods.

If Emma had been a poor sleeper, I would have been a faint-hearted mother who failed miserably at Ferberizing, unable to bear the torture of my baby’s distress.dreamstime_34611321
Now I can’t sleep because my 21-year-old baby is distressed. Emma was not a colicky infant, but she has been a dyspeptic college student, on an erratic trajectory of fits and starts for three years now. Just as she is starting to straighten out her course, we puncture her dreams by telling her we will not pay for yet another super-expensive school that would mean tens of thousands of dollars in debt. I do not know if this is a limit we need to set, or if we are knocking her off the ladder she is using to climb out of the hole she’s been in. Now she’s calling in a state of collapse, raging, paralyzed, sobbing, unable to imagine a future or even get out of bed. Is this a tantrum to be ignored, or a tailspin requiring intervention? Everyone says I must resist the urge to pick her up, she must learn to make it through this crisis, this is what she must do in order to grow up.

But I can hardly bear it. My blouse is no longer milk-soaked in response to her cries, but the instinct to board the next plane so I can rock her in my arms is powerfully activated.
My head is with the Ferberizers, but my heart is with Dr. Sears.

The good doctor maintains that “crying it out” methods encourage parents to become desensitized to an infant’s needs. Babies need responsive parents more than they need to learn self-soothing.
How do I know what Emma needs now? Is it better to let her figure out how to soothe herself, or to swoop in and hold her? What is the difference between helpful support and disastrous enabling of regression? Should I be a desensitized parent, or a responsive one? Perhaps what looks like responsiveness is actually the last thing she needs. Then again, perhaps what looks like desensitivity is just that—insensitive and harmful. What’s a mother to do?

I remind myself that the original Ferberizing debate is about what infants need to be able to sleep securely through the night. My baby is no longer an infant, but an emerging adult. She sleeps fine, but needs help in learning she can make it on her own. Even the attachment zealots would try to dissuade me from rushing to pick her up.
Everyone I know—from my husband to my therapist to my best friends to my mother-in-law—employs a full body block to keep me from boarding that plane to go rescue Emma. Since they have impeccable attachment credentials themselves, I go against my better judgment and decide to listen. So I stay away from airports, phones, and e-mail. Emma stays away from us—an Iron Curtain of silence descends. I imagine her frozen exactly as she was during our last call–sobbing, paralyzed, and even more incapacitated because her mother has abandoned her.

Somehow, I white-knuckle it through her distress—and mine.

A month later, Emma ends the silent treatment. She’s fine—making new plans, recovering from disappointment, figuring things out on her own. Not only is she sleeping through the night, she is growing up.
Now I, too, can sleep through the night—a happily Ferberized mother.

tagged under: ......

ABOUT THIS AUTHOR

Lorrie Goldin is a psychotherapist who practices in San Rafael and Berkeley (www.lorriegoldin.com). Her essays have appeared on NPR and in various publications. She is married and the mother of two teenagers, and is beginning to see the light through the disintegrating twigs of the empty nest.

  1. Svetlana
    July 20, 2009 at 7:39 pm
  2. July 30, 2009 at 5:52 pm
  3. July 30, 2009 at 5:58 pm
  4. July 30, 2009 at 6:07 pm
  5. Chris
    December 2, 2009 at 10:20 am
  6. December 19, 2009 at 12:33 pm
  7. January 30, 2010 at 3:09 pm