No bottle feeders, no spankers

Attachment parents stick to their guns.

By Amy Brill

Mar 31, 2000 | The women in the room don't look particularly subversive, tattooed biceps and shoulder blades notwithstanding. Their children -- all 9 to 18 months old -- waddle, stumble, drool and tumble like other babies. "So if I eat M&Ms all day," one mom with childlike pigtails asks guiltily, "will my milk be, like, all sugar?" Faces turn to the front of the room where a lactation consultant fields questions over the din.

All these mothers are breast-feeding. None of them works outside the home. Most of the babies were delivered on the premises -- the Elizabeth Seton Childbearing Center in New York -- by a midwife. When the little ones are in transit, they nestle in slings or other close-to-mom's-heart contraptions.

"If you were a bottle-feeder or a spanker you probably wouldn't be interested in this," comments Beth, the cherubic 29-year-old mother of 16-month-old Santiago, summing up this representative sample of millennial moms.

These are attachment parents. No bottle-feeders in these parts. These women have discarded most of the parenting strategies that dictated their own upbringing, and turned instead toward those that are considered "instinctive" by their proponents. Are these moms pioneers, bravely defending the designs of nature against the onslaught of science? Or are they people unduly obsessed with their kids? Are they fighting for the mental and physical health of a new generation? Or are they just riding a guilt-fueled parenting trend?

A number of mothers say they didn't know there was a name for what they were doing until after they started doing it. They say that what is currently known as "attachment parenting" -- staying home with the kids, sharing a bed, long-term breast-feeding -- is what felt natural to them. But now that their private choices have become fodder for public debate, they're taking flak from all manner of authorities -- federally anointed and self-appointed.

Suddenly, it seems, everyone has something to say about bed-sharing and breast-feeding -- much of it dismissive or even hostile. Attachment parents, though, have their own expert troops at the ready. Not to mention a claim on "instinct," a fairly impressive weapon in any debate.

At the heart of the attachment parenting philosophy are five core practices. The "Baby Bs," as they are called, are birth-bonding, breast-feeding, bed-sharing, baby-wearing (in a sling or a harness like a Baby Bjorn) and "Belief in the signal value of an infant's cry." Coined by Dr. William Sears, a San Clemente, Calif., pediatrician and father of eight, the Bs seem simple enough, and the underlying premise both logical and comforting. As Sears explains to new parents: "You want to feel connected to your baby. My goal for you folks is to help you become an expert in your baby."

And these days, anywhere an attachment-minded mom looks, a validating force stands ready to assist her. There are zillions of attachment parenting Web pages, associations and support groups. There are books by Sears and by Katie Allison Granju that cover all five of the Baby Bs, each of which has its own attendant court of experts.

There are midwives and labor support doulas (who offer emotional encouragement and comfort during delivery) for the birth part; lactation consultants for the breast-feeding part. There are the trainers who train such people. There are support groups (La Leche League and Attachment Parenting International are big ones) and "Natural Attachment Parenting Products," which include organic hemp diapers in addition to the assortment of slings and pouches for the baby-wearing part.

Best of all there is Sears himself, author of "The Baby Book" and two dozen other volumes that espouse intuitive, contact-driven child-rearing. "If you and your partner and your baby were on an island and had nothing to follow but your basic instinct, attachment parenting is what you would do," he explains.

Sears sounds, at least on the telephone, disarmingly like Mr. Rogers: a kindly, vaguely creepy, almost spiritual figure. Sears says that women can get the basics of attachment parenting from, say, one class (never mind that he's sold around a million books on the topic to date). His next book, he says, will be titled "Kids Who Turn Out Well: What Their Parents Did." Which implies, of course, that if you don't do what Sears suggests you do, your kids may not turn out well at all.

Sears, in fact, practically guarantees results. Attachment kids, he says, will grow up having advanced from the Baby Bs to the "Four Cs:" confidence, competence, caring and communication.

"These kids," he intones, "will never shoot up a school."

Next Page: A note from Sears means extended maternity leave

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