Let’s face it: when my second child arrived, co-sleeping became our norm. I had mixed feelings about it—on one hand, I cherished those moments of closeness with my newborn, while on the other, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me at the thought of judgment from others. I relished the warmth of his tiny body next to mine, the gentle rhythm of his breath, and the way he would drift off while nursing. Those sleepy mornings, waking up to his little frame nestled under my arm, were pure bliss. And let’s be honest—I appreciated the extra sleep too.
But I dreaded sharing this secret with friends or family. The concerned expressions and unsolicited advice were always lurking. I often found myself justifying our choice, explaining the high blood pressure I had post-birth and my midwife’s encouragement to get as much rest as possible. “We’re being safe,” I would assure them. “This isn’t a permanent arrangement; it just works for us right now.”
With a toddler already in the mix, I needed sleep to function. Newborn life is exhausting, and co-sleeping became our solution. For weeks, we shared our queen bed, with me carefully keeping the blankets away from him, nursing and resting together. The experience was nothing short of magical.
Reflecting on my first child’s infancy, I remembered the fatigue that consumed me then. This time, however, I was able to rest. My baby was feeding well, my milk supply thrived, and we were both managing to catch some much-needed Zs.
During the day, I would research co-sleeping, but I often encountered warnings and safety concerns. Seeking reassurance, I reached out to friends who had successfully co-slept with their children—on the whole, they were thriving. I also recalled my time in West Africa, where co-sleeping was simply part of the culture. There, mothers and their children slept together without hesitation. It made me feel connected to a wider community of women who shared this experience, long before the age of the Internet.
Now, at six months old, my son sleeps in his crib and my blood pressure is back to normal. We’ve both benefitted from our co-sleeping phase, which I look back on fondly. Those early weeks were fleeting yet precious, and I have no regrets about our time together.
As I lay there with my son curled up under my arm, I realized that these moments were temporary—a brief season in his life. And what a beautiful season it was.
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Summary:
Co-sleeping with my second child was both a cherished and anxiety-inducing experience. It offered precious bonding moments and sleep, yet I often found myself justifying our decision. High blood pressure and the need for rest made co-sleeping a practical choice. Reflecting on our journey, I appreciate those early weeks spent together, which were fleeting yet filled with connection. Now, as my son sleeps in his crib, I look back on our co-sleeping days with fondness and no regrets.
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