The Sweet Side of Separation Anxiety

"Mama, Mamama... Mamaaa..." my little 10-month-old calls for me as she crawls around our new, bigger home, searching to see where I wandered off to this time. I come out to find her and see her on all fours, pattering around the kitchen (clearly where she thinks I usually am) looking for me. She sees me, her face lights up, she aims for me, and her crawling speed doubles as she heads towards me with everything she has. She gets to me, grabs my jeans, and pulls up to standing using my legs for support. Smiling up at me she continues to say, "Mamama! Mama!" until I pick her up. How adorable! Irresistible, right?

I do love it - the knowledge that my daughter finds my presence comforting and reassuring. She has always been such an independent and curious little girl that I have never thought of her as being clingy or a "Mama's girl." But her 10-month-birthday comes after almost a month of transitions: weeks spent packing our home into boxes and storing all our furniture, a two-day road trip, two weeks in our hometown visiting family and friends, and then moving into a new house that is much bigger than our old apartment. Our new home also means that she is in her own room for the first time ever (even though when she wakes up at night she is welcomed into our bed). It is a lot of change for her! And now I read that 10 months is the typical time for babies to experience separation anxiety.

So who can blame her for always needing to know where her parents are, or clinging to us hoping that we won't wander off again? It is only natural. Who can blame her for crying when we put her in her car seat? Sometimes the ride is short, but sometimes it is hours long, and how can she know the difference? Who can blame her for clinging to what is familiar, what she knows, or what she feels safe with? I understand - she needs me. She needs us. She needs familiarity, security, and comfort. And I feel blessed to be able to give her that.

Now if I am being honest, I do not always react positively to my daughter's clinginess. She grabs my legs as described above constantly, she would rather be held than anything else, she pulls at my lips and plays with my hair and digs her little baby nails into my skin as she tries to use me as a baby jungle gym. When my husband comes home for lunch or at the end of the day, sometimes I tell him that all I want is 20 minutes of time where nobody touches me. All I want is a few consecutive moments of personal space.

But then I think of my little girl, my precious baby, and I think of what she wants. All she wants is to feel secure. All she wants is to not be alone. All she wants is to know that her food source, companion, protector and playmate is not going to disappear or ignore her. And it becomes harder to put her down, harder to walk away. 

After all, I can relate. I worry about all those things daily as well. I don't want to be alone. I want to be provided for, cared for, loved, fed, etc. Grown-ups and babies have the same needs. The only difference is ability to communicate and ability to meet those needs independently.

Honestly, my daughter has no trouble communicating her needs these days. She may only know four words, but her gestures, cries, and actions tell me very clearly exactly what she needs or wants. (Isn't it amazing, the power of non-verbal communication?!)

After a night of very little sleep because Little Girl woke up to nurse more times than usual, after an afternoon where she cried every time I set her down and tried to walk away, or after a day where she fought naps and was moody and tired it can be hard to be patient and calm. It can be hard to put her needs above my own. Separation anxiety causes stress and anxiety for both the baby and the parents! But I have found that thinking about the world through her eyes helps so much. Taking time to contemplate how life might look to her makes it so much harder to respond with impatience.

I had been feeling slightly guilty for putting her down and rushing around trying to get things done the past several days. I could tell she just wanted attention and companionship, but I felt like didn't have time to sit on the floor and play with toys. Today I spent the morning holding her while she napped, playing with her, and reading a few books. And now as I write this she has crawled off on her own to explore the new house and entertain herself.

The time I invest now in my daughter, even if it feels like all I'm doing is holding her while she sleeps and talking to her while she plays, this time is not wasted. It is invested. It is invested in her, in our relationship, and in my family. It can be hard to make those choices, especially when all I want is 20 minutes of personal space. And sometimes it's important to just take those 20 minutes when my husband comes home, because babies aren't the only ones with needs. But what an honor and privilege it is to be able to be there for my little girl, even on the hard days!

Even when I'm tired, frustrated, and just at the end of my patience, the patter of my daughter crawling across the room calling, "Mama! Ma! Mamama!" just warms my heart and reminds me that even if this is hard sometimes, it is worth it. It is a blessing. It is a gift. I wouldn't trade this time for a lifetime of restful nights or "productive" days. Separation anxiety and all. Now if you'll excuse me, my daughter is waving at me and smiling, so I have to go.