Peer Pressure or “Sure, My Baby Sleeps through the Night–How Exactly Do You Define Night?”

“But they, measuring themselves by theselves and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise” (II Cor. 10:12). How often I heard that verse quoted when I was a teenager–when “everybody else” was wearing a certain fashion that I either could not afford or was not allowed to wear, or when “everybody else” was allowed to participate in a certain activity while I was not. To teenagers, peer pressure–the pull to look and act like those around–is a very real struggle–a struggle I thought was fading away as I reached adulthood. Then I gave birth to my first child.

When I was pregnant, I started watching families in my church with young children and reading every child-rearing and baby-training book I could find. One book in particular is very popular among the families at my church. I thought I noticed a correlation between following the method suggested in this book and general good disposition in babies. Quickly I decided that method was for me. Clearly it was the only right way to handle a baby. Then Jonah was born.

For the first two weeks, all went fabulously. Jonah ate and slept on the schedule purported in the book. I was a happy mother. He was a happy baby–for the few minutes a day that he was actually awake. Then he developed colic. According to the book, colic was not supposed to interfere significantly with Jonah’s schedule. It did. Persuaded by stories my friends told of their children’s crying episodes ending quickly when they followed the book consistently, I kept trying to follow the book. But Jonah’s crying episodes only escalated. He began sleeping even less. His overall disposition grew more and more irratable. He struggled even more during feedings. And I found myself feeling frustrated with and distant from him. Still I clung stubbornly to the book, yet every day both my child and I (not to mention my husband) grew more and more stressed. When I recalled the verse about being a joyful mother of children, I felt guilt in addition to the stress.  Finally, with the encouragement of my husband and my mother, I abandoned the book. Jonah and I have begun to settle into a routine that works for us. He has begun eating and sleeping better, and is, in general, a much happier baby.

You would think I would be excited to tell all of my friends that I had lighted upon a method that works for Jonah. Not so. There are a few friends with whom I willingly share my struggles to get Jonah to eat and sleep well. But I hardly say anything more than what is absolutely necessary to politely answer the questions of my friends who follow the book ardently. I catch myself trying hard to still be truthful while answering their questions in a way that will make them think me a good mother by their standards.

Why? Why do I not simply say, “I tried that method, but it didn’t work for Jonah. I asked the Lord for wisdom, and He led me to try a new method which seems to be working very well”? I don’t say that because I’m afraid of what they will think. I don’t want them to think that I am a bad mother–that I just didn’t try hard enough or consistently enough to follow the book–or that Jonah is destined to grow up devoid of character because he doesn’t self-soothe at bedtime or naptime, sleeps best in his carseat, and still wakes up at 4:00 a.m. for a feeding. Will they really think so poorly of me? Probably not. Yet still I find myself afraid to take that chance. In the words of a close friend, “Having a baby has made me realize how much of a people-pleaser I really am.”

And so I find myself still struggling with peer pressure–still worried about what other people will think of me–even though I am almost thirty. I like to think that perhaps I am not the only one–that there are other women who don’t like to answer too many questions about their children. The easy solution (the one which appeals most to my old nature) for those of us who struggle in this area is deeming too judgmental those women whose children seem perfect. The real solution begins when we recognize that our fear of man stems from pride, a sin that will always haunt us as long as our old natures are with us. It is the new nature that cares about pleasing only God. As long as those two natures are warring within us, we will struggle with the fear of man. Only by God’s grace can we conquer our pride, admit that we do still grapple with peer pressure, and find the strength to die to the old nature, thereby overcoming our fear of man. Praise God that He “is able to make all grace abound toward [us], that [we] always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work” (II Cor. 9:8). Let us avail ourselves of that grace to keep our focus on being women who please God without regard to what others may think.