During the months before a birth, the mother observed appropriate taboos; she did not, for example, stare long at any unusual person, animal or other object for fear that her unborn child would be marked at birth.  And she followed a practice with which a modern obstetrician might agree:  she got up each morning before sunrise and took a walk.  But she did this for an unscientific reason:  she believed that babies grew in the early dawn and that walking helped them grow.

The birth, which took place either in a small special tipi or, more usually, in the home lodge, was attended by older women - the female relatives of the mother and a wise old midwife or two.  The mother knelt on a hay-covered robe for delivery, firmly grasping a sturdy upright pole planted in front of her.  A medicine man was sometimes employed to sit nearby, singing prayers and shaking a rattle.

After the delivery, a midwife tickled the mother's throat with a finger or a feather to make her expel the placenta, which was then tied in a bag and taken out of camp to hang in a tree.  To bury it, the Cheyenne's believed, might cause the death of the child.  The women greased the newborn baby's skin and powdered it with finely ground dried buffalo manure, decayed cottonwood pulp or ripe, dry spores of the star puffball fungus.  The puffball was especially favored for the umbilical cord.  Later, when the cord had dried and dropped loose from the navel, the mother would sew it into a small buckskin bag shaped like a turtle or a lizard, to be worn around the child's neck or tied to its clothing as a charm to ensure long life.

During the days before the birth, the father-to-be acted in a manner that at any other time would have been unmanly for a Cheyenne.  He went about carrying firewood and water for his woman, and he spent much of his time worrying over the prospects for a successful birth.  Babies were cherished in the tribe, especially boys, for they represented potential warrior strength.  Because of the dangers of such masculine pursuits as war and hunting, the women of a tribe generally outnumbered the men.  But all children were welcome.  Frequently a father, when notified of his new offspring, would fire his gun.

An older relative of the father - a grandparent, uncle or aunt - usually gave the newborn baby a name.  A boy was often named after an animal or a physical attribute, with an added descriptive word or phrase:  Tall Bull, Spotted Wolf, Little Hawk, or Gray Tangle Hair.  A girl's name almost always included the word "woman" in it:  Owl Woman, Buffalo Calf Road Woman, Little Creek Woman.  But nicknames for both sexes were commonly used until the age of 5 or 6.  A little boy might be called "Moksois" as a term of endearment and a girl "Moksiis."  Both words meant potbelly.

Within a few weeks after birth, a mother would begin to lace her baby into a cradleboard; a wooden frame with a soft skin pouch, which could be carried on the woman's back.  The cradleboard was a versatile device.  It could be hooked onto a saddle or strapped to a travois; it could be hung up inside a tipi or, if the mother was working outdoors, leaned against the lodge covering.  In any of these positions, it had one advantage over the white man's crib or baby carriage:  long before it could sit up, a Native American baby was able to view the world about it and the comings and goings of other people in an upright posture.

A mother gave her baby much affection and cuddling and allowed it to nurse at will.  Cheyenne children might nurse at their mother's breasts for four or five years.  But the baby suffered one kind of traumatic experience:  crying was not tolerated by the Cheyenne's.  They considered it antisocial at any time; also, a crying baby might give away a camp position to enemy raiders.  If a baby persisted in crying after its needs were taken care of, the mother took it out alone in its cradleboard and hung it on a bush, there to cry itself out.  When the howling stopped, the mother brought it back to human company.  After a few such experiences, the baby learned that crying was useless.  Thus it took its first step toward the strict self-control of Indian life.

Young children soon became a part of the rigorous life of the tribe, and it was, of course, a life led largely on horseback.  By the age of 2 or 3, they were riding with their mothers or were tied in a saddle on a gentle horse.  By the age of 5 or 6, a boy might have his own horse - given to him by his father, and indulgent uncle or a grandfather - and be a good rider, able to help herd the horses.  Girls the same age began to help their mothers dig roots and carry water and wood.

Cheyenne children became tough, inured to the extremes of a life lived close to nature, traveling under the harsh sun in midsummer, working an playing out of doors in winter.  

Parents and older advisers rarely chastised their children, but they continuously exhorted them not only to be chaste and virtuous, but to be honest, grave, friendly, modest, industrious, and generous so that they would amount to something and would not be shamed and gossiped about in the tribe.  Once again, early training led directly to the ways of later life.  As an adult, a Cheyenne would measure his status by the approbation of his tribesmen, and literally dread the thought of falling under their criticism or contempt.

Most childhood play mimicked adult life.  Little girls played with toy tipis and deerskin dolls in miniature cradleboards, and little boys carried small bows and arrows.  When slightly older, girls and boys played camp with miniature lodge villages and make-believe families.  The boys pretended to go on hunts and raids, taking make-believe captives and counting coups like grown men.  They would sally forth on stick horses to hunt buffalo.  Sometimes the boys caught fish or killed birds or rabbits and brought them in for the girls to cook.  Boys and girls also enjoyed the comradeship of their elders.  Grandfathers spent many hours telling stories to their grandchildren, passing on tribal myths and lore.