I was recently reading a Dr. Sears book on
discipline when I came across the definition of a "high needs baby" once again. Dr. Sears has 8 children. This is an excerpt from his book:
"Our first three children were relatively "easy" infants. They slept well and had a predictable feeding routine. Their needs were easy to identify—and satisfy. In fact, I began to suspect that parents in my pediatric practice who complained about their fussy babies were exaggerating. "What's all the fuss about difficult babies?" I wondered.
Then came Hayden, our fourth, whose birth changed our lives. Our first clue that she was going to be different came within a day or two. "I can't put her down," became Martha's recurrent theme. Breastfeeding for Hayden was not only a source of food, but a source of comfort. Martha became a human pacifier. Hayden would not accept substitutes. She was constantly in arms and at her mother's breast -- and after a while those arms and breasts would get tired. Hayden's cries were not mere requests, they were all-out demands. Well-meaning friends suggested, "Just put her down and let her cry it out." That didn't work at all. Her extraordinary persistence kept her crying. Her cries did not fade away. They intensified if we didn't respond.
Hayden was very good at teaching us what she needed. "As long as we hold her, she's content" became our baby-care slogan. If we tried letting her fuss, she only fussed harder. We played "pass the baby." When Martha's arms gave out, into mine she came.
Hayden became an in arms, at breast and in-our-bed baby. If we tried to leave her for a much-needed baby break, she'd protest against any baby sitter. The neighborhood slogan became: Everywhere Bill and Martha went Hayden was sure to go. We tagged her "The Velcro Baby." Hayden opened us up as persons. The turning point came when we closed the baby books and opened our hearts to our child. Instead of defensively getting caught up in the spoiling fear, we started listening to what Hayden had been trying to tell us from the moment she exited the womb: "Hi, mom and dad! You've been blessed with a different kind of baby, and I need a different kind of parenting. If you give it to me, we're going to get along fine. If you don't, we're in for a long struggle." As soon as we discarded our preconceived ideas of how babies are supposed to be and accepted the reality of how Hayden was, we all got along much better. Hayden taught us that tiny babies don't manipulate, they communicate.
Hayden didn't fit any of the usual labels. She really wasn't a "fussy" baby, as long as we held her and attended to her needs. "Spirited" was misleading; everyone wants a spirited baby. She wasn't "colicky," since she didn't seem to be in pain. Nor did the tag "difficult" ring true; some may beg to differ, but we were finding that holding and being near a baby to whom we were becoming so attached was not all that difficult. Besides, these labels were too negative for this little person who seemed to know so positively what she needed and how to get it. It wasn't until years later, after talking with dozens of parents of babies who also needed to nurse so often, needed to be held a lot, needed human contact at night, that the term "high need child" came to us. It best describes the kind of baby Hayden was and the level of parenting she needed.
In my pediatric practice, I discovered that the term "high need child" was P.C. -- psychologically correct. By the time drained parents came to me for counseling about their demanding baby, they had already been on the receiving end of a barrage of negatives: "You hold her too much," "It must be your milk," "She's controlling you." All relayed an underlying message of "bad baby and bad parenting." They felt it was somehow their fault their baby acted this way. As soon as I would pronounce the diagnosis "high need child," I could see a look of relief on the faces of the parents. Finally, someone had something nice to say about their baby. "High need" sounds special, intelligent, unique, and it shifts the focus to the baby's personality, relieving parents from the guilt of believing that their baby acts this way because of their parenting. Further, "high need" suggests that there is something parents can do to help this baby. It underscores the idea that these babies simply need more: more touch, more understanding, more sensitivity, more attachment parenting.
Dr. Sears lists 12 characteristics of a "high needs baby" in his book... they describe baby Lucas perfectly: intense, hyperactive, draining, feeds frequently, demanding, awakens frequently, unsatisfied, unpredictable, has to be held, super-sensitive, not a self soother and separation sensitive.
Jeff and I still crack up at how accurately this list describes Lucas when he was a baby (and even some still today). The point of this post, however, is that he also has a list of adjectives to describe the "high needs toddler". At the top of his list is "daredevil".
Yep, that's our Lucas alright! This is what I saw when I turned my back for 1 second at the park yesterday...
