It’s amusing to reflect on how my children have found their way back into our bedroom after 15 and 12 years. When our first child was born, my partner and I would lay on the couch, reading parenting books like the Searses’ Attachment Parenting guide, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. We were exhausted, but it was a shared experience that kept us connected.
In one section about sleep, the Searses assured readers that children usually stop co-sleeping by age 6. “What if Noah is still in our bed at 6?” we joked. Back then, the future felt abstract; time was a strange construct. The Searses even depicted their eight children sprawled across various beds, which seemed ridiculous to us.
I found joy in co-sleeping—not because it was some idealistic approach, but simply because I adored it, even with its challenges. There were those tender moments of nursing at night, gazing at my little ones’ faces illuminated by moonlight. I remember pulling the crib close to our bed and eventually adding a raised mattress to accommodate our growing family. It was a chaotic yet loving scene, filled with soft pajamas and sweet baby scents. However, I was also perpetually tired.
Without realizing it, we morphed into a version of the Searses. Our babies nursed endlessly, and bedtime routines turned into marathons of stories, songs, and soothing rituals. I often felt like a human playground, with children clinging to me as they drifted into slumber. Those evenings blurred into a haze of overwhelming love, fatigue, and gratitude that defined our lives for years.
Sometimes, I would read parenting books with a headlamp, feeling a sense of despair. It seemed like my children would never learn to sleep on their own, and I envisioned a future where I was a frail old woman, forever trapped beneath them. I remember watching my brother put his baby to bed without a routine—just placing him in the crib and turning off the light. It felt like a foreign language. I stood in the doorway, envious as I watched that tiny child simply close his eyes and fall asleep. How was that possible?
I bring this up now because I see on platforms like Facebook and news outlets that new parents are still navigating the challenges of sleep. They are wrestling with choices about parenting styles and looking for reassurance. It’s comforting to know that even my two notoriously poor sleepers have evolved into capable and independent ones.
Now, they have returned to our room, and this summer has been nothing short of magical. While some might say they’re only here for the free air-conditioning, it’s evident that no one leaves, even on cooler nights. Our bedroom has transformed into a cozy tent, with “The Crouton,” our futon for guests or restless souls, now accompanied by an extra mattress. Blankets and pillows are scattered everywhere, and the atmosphere is reminiscent of an endless sleepover. We binge-watch shows like Mystery Science Theater 3000, laughing late into the night.
Falling asleep to the sounds of my husband and son enjoying Parks and Recreation, while my daughter softly snores, fills me with contentment. I realize we could have followed the conventional path, doing what others thought was right, but we chose a lifestyle that brought us joy. Soon enough, autumn will arrive, and the children will return to their own rooms, leaving us to share our bed again. While that has its own charm, I’ll miss the closeness that comes with these shared nights—the sight of my growing children peacefully sleeping, their chests rising and falling. I’m truly the luckiest person in the world.
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In summary, co-sleeping has brought my family closer and filled our lives with joy, laughter, and the occasional chaos. As we navigate the transition back to separate sleeping spaces, I cherish the memories we’ve created together.