In a world where we so readily judge others for their parenting styles, I have to speak up.
It may seem weird to some, especially to those without kids.
Anyway, here goes.
Two boys sleep in my bed. That's right, two.
Boy #1 has been there for almost 3 years, and he's, well, a man. His name is Josh.
Boy #2 has been there since the day he was born. (From day one there was never hope of him sleeping anywhere else.) His name is John.
Yep. You guessed it. This is a blog about co-sleeping. Don't worry, I will not share any science or statistics. I will only share my heart.
Before my son was born, I never nested. You know, that sudden burst of energy every pregnant girl is supposed to get ... scrubbing the base boards with a toothbrush, never happened ... organizing my kid's room, never happened. I even accidentally GAVE AWAY most of his newborn clothes. That's how tired and disoriented I was.
However, Josh and I were certain to get his crib put together. After all, he would definitely be sleeping there. I had decided in my head that my children would be trained to sleep in their own beds, in their own rooms. After watching my sister sleep Mase with her (and everybody and their mother telling her how impossible it would be to break him of that habit), I decided that I would protect myself from all the unwanted commentary. I vowed not to co-sleep.
Then he got here.
Sleepless nights in the hospital. And they wanted me to swaddle my baby and stick him in this boxy little cart. Screaming baby. Most of you probably know my story about the difficulties of my breastfeeding journey. (If not, read about it here.) Screaming, hungry, non-latching baby. It didn't sit well with me to abandon him and let him cry. Ever. Even in my exhaustion and pain, I was aching to get him, to soothe him every single time he cried. I mean he had to be crying for a reason, right?
You know how most babies come out sleepy? And they stay that way for the first couple of weeks. Sleeping on and off all day. Dozing easily on the breast. In the arms of visitors. In the arms of anyone. Not. My. Baby.
My child was born just before 10:30 p.m., and he was born awake. I've heard from those who saw him (I mean really saw him ... I was busy in C-section land) that he was amazingly alert from his opening moments. I can vouch that an hour after his birth when he came to his Mama that he was up and at 'em. From then on, he has been up most of the time. Because he is my "wakey Boo," it became even more imperative to co-sleep. OMGee, it is difficult to get that boy to sleep.
When we got John Ashley home, he and I slept in a recliner together. We slept in the bed together. We slept on the couch together. At first, I thought that this was just going to be our way in the beginning (because Mama was recovering and needed to be lazy for awhile), but I soon realized that my son would not be laid down anywhere. Not in his swing. Not in his bouncy chair. Not in his cradle. And certainly not in his crib. After a few months of feeling guilty, I decided to embrace co-sleeping. I decided that co-sleeping was our way.
Sleeping with our Boo has looked differently as his little life has progressed. At first, it was easy. He would fall asleep on the ninny when Mama was ready to slumber. As he's grown, his interest in the world has too. He is increasingly hard to get to sleep. So much so that I almost never put him to sleep. (He smells me, so he won't go to sleep until he gets Mama milk if I try to rock him.) Now Joshua simply puts him in his infant car seat, turns on his baby noise maker and rocks him until he's out. John joins us in our bed whenever he wakes. (No, my 14-month-old does not sleep through the night. Yes, I am perfectly okay with waking up and tending to his needs. Most of the time.:)
People like to say that it will be very difficult to get my child to sleep anywhere other than my bed. That's okay. I want to err on the side of my baby feeling secure in my love (never, never, never being left to cry it out). Oh, and I don't know any 16-year-old boys who sleep with their mamas.
People also like to say that my baby is spoiled; he'll be tough to handle one day. Ditto. I want him to know that he's loved, to point him to the love of his Heavenly Father. Additionally, he'll be my spoiled one to deal with when it's all said and done.
I also know that co-sleeping has increased our bond. Yes, the bond between baby and breast (which is so, so, so important to me), but also the bond of our family. My husband has to work. In a perfect world, Josh would stay home all day and hang out with me and John, and we'd all live happily ever after. But God cursed the ground, and menfolk bear the burden of that curse. John sleeping with us, however, has cultivated tons of opportunities for Josh to parent (and bond with) our babe in the wee hours. Those hours have been pretty precious to us.
I am not writing this blog to hate on those of you who don't co-sleep, those of you who ferberize, those of you who use the CIO method. I am merely writing to express my heart and our way. I write about parenting with tons of humility and grace because, the truth is, I only parent John (which is a stinkin' hard task), and I know every kid has different needs and personalities. In fact, though I'd love to co-sleep Sarah, Benjamin, Cannady (the future Beams ... oh, how I love thinking of baby names in advance:), I know that these kiddos may not want to sleep with us. Deal is, this post is not meant to spark debate. I only want to give a big shout-out to those co-sleepers out there who have been in my shoes, ashamed to admit your little nighttime arrangement.
So, there you have it: my confession. I love sleeping with my baby.
Oh, and my #1 motivation for co-sleeping ... If I didn't, I'd never get any rest. :)
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