My youngest, who is three-and-a-half, has used a pacifier since he was six months old. He is my only child who used a pacifier — I never offered them to my older kids for reasons that mostly boiled down to “my mom didn’t use them,” but I was taking a transatlantic flight with him when he was eight months old, and I worried about him crying the whole time. He has LOVED that binky, but I figured that when the time came to be done with it, I’d just use the gradual weaning process I’ve used for lots of things through my mothering years and it would all be fine.
In the last six months or so, it has been becoming more and more clear that my baby is no longer a baby and he is far too old to be using the binky, so I started the weaning process by not allowing him to have it outside the house, which was a really great first step. And he actually hasn’t needed it for sleeping in a long time — I would have understood that need and been more patient with it, but that wasn’t a factor here. So I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to continue a steady weaning process.
Well. Until last week, every attempt I’ve made at further separating my boy from his binky has absolutely failed.
He seemed to think it was necessary to have it in his mouth as he went about his day. He actively sucked on it while playing and watching TV, his little jaw going like a suckling baby. He held it between his teeth while he talked, which was the particular thing that drove me the most crazy and really made me feel like he was past the point of acceptable binky use. He and I started having a battle of wills over it. It was exhausting and upsetting for both of us. Added to all this is the fact that when he cries, he *cries*, and the only thing that has ever been guaranteed to calm him down is the binky.
Then, he lost the binky.
He actually lost the binky all the time — at least once a day, all members of our household were mobilized to find the binky. My husband and I have each made countless trips to the store to get more binkies when we couldn’t find any and our boy was screeching for it. “Binky!” he’d yell. “Binky!” But this time none of us could find it (or any of the others that have been swallowed by the house), and he wasn’t falling apart without it (though he was asking for it), and I knew he didn’t need it for bed, so I thought … maybe we’ll just go with it.
For the rest of that day, when he asked for the binky, I reminded him that it was lost. He went to bed without it, and asked for it first thing in the morning, but I reminded him that it was lost. He asked for it a lot that day (Day 2), but it wasn’t until Day 3 that it really seemed to sink in that he didn’t have his binky. Oof, Day 3 was a rough day. Watching him crying and crying on Day 3, and begging for his binky, was one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever seen. Despite my usual insistence on “firm and consistent” parenting, I was very close, several times, to breaking down and giving him a binky (I did have some in reserve, just in case).
He was twitchy and restless (when he wasn’t crying) for all of Day 3, and Day 4 as well (though a bit less crying). I watched him put his thumb in his mouth while he was napping, and he woke up a little, looked at his thumb, cried a bit, and went back to sleep. He started chewing on the tip of one of his fingers until it was raw and the top of the nail had ripped off. He asked me to go to the store to get more binkies. He told me he is still a baby, and babies need binkies. When I told him he’s a big boy, he countered that he’s actually a small boy, and small boys need binkies. I had come to hate that binky, but I was devastated for him that he was struggling so much with the first real suffering of his life.
A friend told me she thought she remembered it taking about a week before her little sister seemed to have recovered from the loss of her pacifier, and I clung hopefully to that timeframe. Indeed, at the week mark, he was really doing better! As I write this, it’s two-weeks-minus-one-day since he lost the binky, and the last time he asked for it was three days ago. Yesterday he had one of his meltdowns, but he allowed me to help him through it by snuggling with him on the couch, and he didn’t once ask for the binky.
I’m thrilled, but wow, I would not want to go through that process again. It feels silly to say, but I felt like I saw him go through all the stages of grief in a very intense way, as far as being a three-year-old goes. If I wasn’t convinced it was for the best, I would never have been able to stick with it.
Speaking of grief, I join the rest of the Saratoga TODAY community in mourning the passing of the paper’s general manager, Robin Mitchell. She and I had an email conversation almost every month for the last fourteen years regarding my submission of each month’s article. I used to see her almost every day at school pick-up when her granddaughter was in school with my older boys, and I saw her at the office sometimes as well. Every interaction I had with her was wonderful — she was warm and encouraging, and always had something nice to say about my boys. I know that her loss leaves an unfillable hole at the paper and of course with all those who love her. May she rest in peace.
Kate and her husband have seven sons ages 17, 15, 13, 12, 10, 7, and 3. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
