When my daughter was born, I was bounded and determined not to become a co-sleeper. I’d been traumatized by tales from a friend whose two children invaded her bed every night. I set my foot down and said, “My bed is my bed and I’m not giving it up.”
Besides, I liked sleeping next to my husband. I liked snuggling with him. I liked the ability to roll around if I wanted.
Please note the use of past-tense verbs.
When we moved from our last home to our new home, everything changed. My daughter, who had been sleeping in her own crib since the day we brought her home, decided that the crib had become the devil.
Roo flat out refused to sleep in her own crib. As soon as I’d lay her down in it, she would leap up, crying and begging to be let out. She pulled out all the tricks for us, she rattled the bars, she squealed, she pouted.
Once again, I was determined to be strong. She had her own bed, I had mine. I fought to get her to sleep in her crib. I tried bribes of my own and trickery that would make anyone proud. I tried to sneak her in there while she was distracted. I filled her crib with toys, mirrors, flashlights.
I even held her while she slept and attempted to transport her to the crib when she was deep asleep.
The little stinker woke up every time I laid her down. If I managed to get her in the crib and asleep, she would wake up five, six times a night.
One night, delirious with lack of sleep, I laid her down in our bed and the rest was history. She slept like a rock.
I slept like a rock.
We had found our bliss.
I’ll admit it, it took time adjusting to the fact that there was a little rolling baby in the bed. My husband and I had to rearrange our sleeping habits to accommodate her. There would be no more late night kisses, no more jumping on the bed in the middle of the night. All of that had to go.
When we were all finally in sync with one another, it dawned on me that I loved co-sleeping. I loved the fact that I could snuggle with her whenever I wanted. I loved that she was the first thing I saw in the morning.
I was hooked.
And rightfully, still am.
Of course, I still think about what life was like when Roo wasn’t in our bed. I think about the horrors that will come when we attempt to get her into a big girl bed. I know it will be a fight and we’ll experience many more sleepless nights, but it’s not that time yet and as I watch her sleep next to me as I type this, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let her go. I don’t know if she’ll ever be ready to let us go.
But I know I’ll get my bed back one day, maybe the day she heads off to college?
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