by Sara Zaske
These two polarized methods have made it to Germany too. The Sears books have been translated into German, and Ferber’s ideas were popularized by the German psychologist and behavioral therapist Annette Kast-Zahn in her 2008 best-selling book Jedes Kind Kann Schlafen Lernen (Every Child Can Learn to Sleep).
Still, I noticed something else also going on in Germany. I met parents who told me their babies went to bed at night without a problem. One German mother told me her eighteen-month-old put herself to sleep. She’d play a while in the crib, talk to herself, and then nod off. I remember not believing her completely, but she did look suspiciously well rested.
Another time, while having an afternoon coffee with a German friend at her home, she excused herself to put her baby down for a nap. She returned five minutes later. I waited for the screaming to start. There was none. “He’s asleep?” I asked, incredulous.
“Not yet,” she said. “But he should be in a little while. He’s tired.”
As we talked, I could hear him gurgling and babbling in the other room. She got up to visit him a couple of times, but eventually the playing sounds grew less frequent, and there was silence. He was asleep. What an unusual baby, I thought.
But it wasn’t that unusual. In fact, it’s part of a tradition in Germany of parents who actively encourage babies to be comfortable by themselves. In fact, one survey cited in the journal Pediatrics in 2005 found that only one in five German parents stay in the room with their babies as they fall asleep.
German Parents and Attachment Theory
I didn’t realize the significance of this German attitude toward sleep until I met Robert LeVine. A Harvard professor emeritus of education and human development, LeVine has studied parenting practices in cultures all over the world and continues to write on the topic. He contends that attachment theory doesn’t have the solid basis in scientific evidence that its proponents claim. Instead it arose out of a “moral campaign” to change the way children were cared for in the United States and Great Britain. LeVine said supporters have ignored evidence that casts doubt on attachment theory—including studies of German parents and their infants.
The whole idea that a baby’s attachment to her mother is critical to human development didn’t originate with the Searses’ books. Attachment theory was first conceived in the 1950s by British psychologist and reformer John Bowlby. After working with mentally ill, delinquent, and institutionalized children, Bowlby came up with a theory that babies needed to form a close attachment to their primary caregivers for normal emotional and cognitive development. Infants who did not develop this secure attachment were at high risk of mental illness later in life.
Bowlby’s theory gained traction after development psychologist Mary Ainsworth conducted a now-famous study called the “strange situation” in Baltimore in the 1970s. This study is so well-known that today descriptions of it can be found in many popular parenting books. Basically, what Ainsworth did was to have mothers leave their babies alone for a short time, then she observed how the babies reacted to this “strange situation.” The infants who cried when their mothers left and were comforted upon their return were deemed “securely attached.” Those who responded in different ways, such as ignoring their mother’s absence or not being comforted on her return, were regarded as “insecurely attached.” Ainsworth’s Baltimore studies revealed that the majority of infants, about two-thirds, were securely attached while the remaining third fell into one of the insecurely attached categories. Many subsequent studies in other countries revealed similar results.
Bowlby used Ainsworth’s experiment as proof that his theory was universal, but that’s a step too far for LeVine. Instead, he argues that the value of strong infant attachment is more a cultural ideology than a universal truth. LeVine said that Bowlby and other proponents tended to dismiss any contrary evidence: in particular, the results of a 1985 study by Karin and Klaus Grossman of mothers and infants from the north German town of Bielefeld. The Grossman study found that the majority of the German infants, a full 49 percent, fell into an insecurely attached category called “anxious avoidant,” which meant they avoided or ignored their mother when she was in the room and didn’t seem to be bothered when she left. Along with other categories, a full two-thirds of the German infants were deemed insecurely attached. With such a large majority falling into this supposedly abnormal category, it’s apparent that, at least in this culture, insecure attachment wasn’t the exception, it was the rule.
“Bowlby wants to argue that attachment is universal and that what Mary Ainsworth found in Baltimore is universal for all humans. But what was found in Bielefeld is grossly different, terribly different,” LeVine told me when I met him in Berlin. “So they just ignored it for many years.”
And it wasn’t only Bielefeld. Another study by Lieselotte Ahnert and Michael E. Lamb in 2000 of East Berlin parents found similar results. LeVine pointed out that if Bowlby’s theory that insecure attachment leads to mental illness were true, there would be a huge rash of mental illness in northern Germany, since those babies have now grown up. Likewise, a rather large minority, 35 percent, of American infants who were deemed insecurely attached in these studies would also be prone to mental disorders. Obviously, this is not the case in either culture, and it’s a serious flaw in Bowlby’s argument for the necessity of secure attachment as defined by his theory.
LeVine proposes that the difference is simply in cultural values. German parents are known for valuing selbständigkeit, self-reliance, in their children, and they start instilling this quality early. LeVine is not the first to criticize attachment theory, which has become so central in child development circles, as well as in popular parenting literature. In her 2005 book, A Perfect Madness: Motherhood in an Age of Anxiety, Judith Warner detailed how such a demanding parenting style puts women in an impossible position, and the sociologist Sharon Hays called it part of an “ideology of intensive mothering.” However, LeVine’s argument and other cultural criticisms of attachment theory are particularly pointed because they speak to the heart of what the theory claims: the supposed benefit, or harm, to the baby.
Independent Infants
Promoting independence in babies can easily be found in German parenting literature, even as attachment is discussed. These two ideas are not seen to be in conflict but to work together. “Raising a self-reliant child is a process that begins at birth and continues throughout the child’s entire upbringing,” writes German pedagogical professor Dieter Spanhel in an article for the Familienhandbuch (“family handbook”) website. Spanhel goes on to say that a balance must always be found at every stage of development between watching over the child and letting the child become self-sufficient.
Remo Largo, a Swiss pediatrician, once called “Der Gott der Kindererziehung” (the god of parenting) by the German newspaper Frankfurter Allgemeine, also speaks a lot about this balance. His best-selling book Babyjahre (“Baby Years”) has been a mainstay for many German parents. Largo preaches a calm, nonjudgmental approach to parenting. He does evince some of the baby-wearing, co-sleeping ethos often found in American attachment parenting literature, but he also talks a lot about independence.
For instance, in his chapter on sleeping, Largo criticizes the overemphasis on attachment: “Many people think that having the closest, tightest possible physical relationship to their parents builds children’s psychological well-being and basic sense of trust,” he says. “To me, this seems like an overly one-sided idea of how children’s self-confidence develops: self-confidence is born not only of security, but of independence as well.”
In fact, in Largo’s view, helping a baby learn selbständigkeit by learning to sleep alone is essential and is actually a sign that they feel secure. “Once children can fall asleep on their own, they will be less dependent upon their surroundings and will suffer less from fears of abandonment when they wake up at night in a dark room.”
So in Largo’s view, the ability of the child to fall asleep by he
rself is evidence that the child feels secure. It really is a shame his books are not available in English. Instead of sentiments like this, I had absorbed passages that demanded I give my older baby more, not less, attention, like this one from The Baby Book by the Searses: “Don’t be afraid to listen to your baby. You are neither spoiling him or being manipulated … you can get right to the heart of the problem and provide nighttime company. Move a mattress or a roll-away bed into your baby’s room and lie down next to his crib when he goes to sleep …”
The Searses’ books do caution against letting yourself as the caregiver become worn out, and they have a whole section on how to set boundaries with all nighttime nursers, which I read many times. Still, this always comes with the admonition to “let the baby be the barometer” of any new nighttime parenting approach. And quite frankly, my second baby was a lousy barometer.
When I was in that tired fog of parenting, I was so caught up in being a sensitive mother that I didn’t realize my overresponsiveness might actually be holding Ozzie back from reaching the secure, independent feeling that Largo writes about. And at first, it didn’t appear my consultant could find a solution. Cathrin never advocated for letting Ozzie cry it out, though she often told me I should wait a short time before responding to his nighttime cries. She also assured me that one day he would learn to sleep through the night. It was a developmental milestone that all babies reached. I couldn’t force it to happen, but I could encourage it.
Cathrin spoke a lot about bonding and reading the baby’s cues, but she also talked about setting limits, about acting “clearly”—essentially I should be consistent. After I got Ozzie to accept a no from me during the day without having a major meltdown, Cathrin recommended we move on to saying no during the night: night weaning. I was to play with Ozzie for a long time in the evening and give him one long nursing session before bed—in other words plenty of “Mom time”—but from that point on, when he woke up in the night, I was supposed to tell him a gentle no. Yeah, that didn’t work.
He screamed and screamed. I sang so many lullabies my voice grew hoarse. Zac walked with him, rocking the baby in his arms until his muscles were sore. Sometimes, Ozzie would go back to sleep only to be up again forty-five minutes later. Sophia, who shared his room, appeared to sleep through it all, but the bags under her eyes told a different story. The entire family was exhausted.
After a couple of weeks without success, Cathrin suggested I stop nursing altogether. I remember how carefully she said it, as if afraid of offending me. “In my experience, extended breast-feeding can sometimes interfere with sleeping through the night.” She put two hands out in front of her. “That’s just what I’ve noticed.”
I didn’t take her advice right away, and when I did, it wasn’t an instant cure. He still got up multiple times a night for about two weeks. But then came the night when he slept a whole seven hours in a row for the first time in his young life. He did it the next night and the next. It took me a bit longer. I kept waking up and listening to the silence before going back to sleep. It was marvelous.
Years later, I contacted Cathrin to see if I could get her honest opinion about attachment books like Searses’. She was still cautious about expressing any blanket judgment. She pointed out that the advice she gives is individual for each family, taking into account a host of factors such as number of children, housing situation, support network, and any financial or health problems, as well as the parents’ “core beliefs” about parenting.
Cathrin didn’t feel there was any one “dream book” that can address all children’s sleep problems. She did say that books like Searses’ often suggest to mothers that “ ‘if my child doesn’t sleep well or cries a lot, I have not done enough, not given enough, not understood enough.’ Then the helplessness they feel just continues to grow until they are in complete despair.”
Looking back, I see I fit that picture quite well, and I wonder how many mothers are doing this now, given the rise of the “natural parenting” movement, which puts its claim to universality front and center in its name: being “natural” implies that other parenting approaches are “unnatural” or wrong. The nonprofit organization that promotes this movement, Attachment Parenting International, recently put up an appeal with the headline “Attachment Is Everything.” Really, everything? That’s certainly a big claim and one that doesn’t hold up against cultural critiques like LeVine’s. The problem with this high-stakes philosophy is not just the pressure it puts on parents, and on mothers in particular, but also what it can do to the child.
As I experienced, attachment practices can backfire, creating a reinforcing loop. As Cathrin put it, “Every day, the baby learns that if X happens, Y happens. Over time, the cognitive pattern etches itself into the baby’s brain like a highway.”
While Cathrin wouldn’t advocate for any single sleep prescription that fits everyone, I think there are a few things American parents can learn from the German approach to promote their baby’s independence and good sleep habits.
First, we can relax a little on the attachment issue. If we can accept that the attachment theory is a cultural value and not a universal truth, it takes a lot of the heat off: you can put your baby down to play by himself, without fearing he will develop into a psychopath. If you don’t breast-feed on demand you are not a terrible mother. We all want a loving bond with our children, but in all the hype around attachment parenting, it’s good to remember that detachment is also important—that our job as mothers is to give our babies not only unconditional love but also the space to develop into their individual selves.
Second, set loving boundaries for your baby as he gets older; as I was learning to tell my one-year-old son no without him having a fit, Cathrin emphasized that I was not to comfort him during his tantrum, but only afterward when he had calmed down. Then I could hug him and even praise him for getting his emotions under control, but the no still stood.
Third, set a good pattern for sleep. This is also about establishing boundaries. If you can create a routine for sleeping that involves putting the baby down awake by himself and he learns to fall asleep happily on his own from the start, you can avoid a lot of the bad experiences many parents have. Babies will go through phases, but setting this pattern will make it easier to reestablish. While I still can’t advocate for crying it out, there’s nothing wrong with waiting a little. When a baby cries, our first impulse is to rush and soothe him, but sometimes waiting a few minutes gives them a chance to figure out how to soothe themselves.
Last but not least, just as you don’t wake a sleeping baby, I recommend not interrupting a playing baby. We’re told that parental interaction with children is key to their well-being and future success. German parents have heard this, too. Bettina Lamm, a cultural psychologist, told me that German middle-class parents will often engage their babies in dialogue as if they can talk back, even though they can’t possibly answer. She also told me that American mothers in one study took this even further and read books to three-month-old babies, who cannot possibly follow along, in a belief that it will help them learn later. (I blushed when she told me this because I’ve also read books to both my tiny infants.)
Interacting with our babies is fun and good for our relationships, but we could relax a little. Our babies also need time to explore on their own and get involved in their own play without our interference. This space will give them a chance to develop their concentration skills and independence. And for the parents’ benefit, a baby who can entertain himself is a much easier baby to care for, and one who is more likely to be able to soothe himself to sleep at night.
I once had a boss who, in another context, advised that it is important to ask yourself not only what you should do, but what you should stop doing. I think this is common advice in the business world, but many mothers could benefit from asking themselves this question too, at different stages of their child’s development. Perhaps it’s stopping breast-feeding or co-sleeping when it’s no longer nec
essary. Maybe it’s giving up the effort to entertain babies constantly or not dropping everything to answer their demands for comfort immediately. Not doing something for your children is perhaps the hardest when children are so small and seem to need so much—and our culture demands that we mothers be the ones to provide it all. That’s where the Germans have a few more approaches that might help.
Mother Knows Best?
Germany is not immune from the “mother myth” that has gripped most of Western culture. Traditionally, the domain of German women was relegated to kinder, küche, kirche (“children, kitchen, church”), and in West Germany, as more women started to work, they faced being called a rabenmutter (“raven mother”), after a bird that is notorious for neglecting its young.
These sentiments should sound familiar because American culture still considers that a mother who is at home full-time is the best situation for children, in spite of the fact that today the majority of mothers work at least part-time, and more than half hold down full-time jobs. In the United States, there’s a lot of talk about women “choosing” to stay home or going to work after having children when most often it comes down to a simple matter of economics.
The traditional male breadwinner–female homemaker model doesn’t work financially for most American middle-class families. It didn’t for us. When my daughter was first born, Zac was earning only a graduate student stipend, so I worked up until the moment I felt contractions, took three months off, and when that was up, I packed my briefcase full of guilt and went back to the office. Many American women have similar situations. Even as more women work, the old expectation for mothers to be constantly available for their children not only persists but has been given new life by the supposed universal benefit of attachment or “natural” parenting.