In a humorous twist of fate, my children have returned to share our bedroom, 15 and 12 years after their births. This scenario is amusing considering that during our first child’s infancy, my partner and I would lay around reading the Attachment Parenting book by the Searses aloud to each other, often chuckling at their recommendations. We were exhausted but still found moments of levity.
A particularly memorable moment was when we read the part assuring parents that children rarely co-sleep past their sixth birthday. We laughed heartily, imagining our son, Max, still nestled beside us at that age. The concept of his future seemed abstract; time felt so peculiar that it was as if we were only a day away from his adulthood. Furthermore, the Searses’ parenting style struck us as peculiar, characterized by a vivid illustration of all eight of their children crammed into their master bedroom.
Despite our initial skepticism, I found co-sleeping to be a deeply rewarding experience. It wasn’t about adhering to any prescribed norm; rather, I cherished the intimate moments—the soft gropes during nursing, the glow of moonlight illuminating my children’s faces, and the cuddles of sleepy toddlers. Our bedtime rituals became elaborate events, filled with stories, music, and countless moments where my children would drift off to sleep while holding onto my hair—a mix of joy, exhaustion, and gratitude enveloped me in those years.
Yet, I also faced moments of despair reading parenting books that suggested I was destined to have children who could never sleep independently, leaving me a frail figure beneath them as they transitioned into adulthood. I remember once babysitting my brother’s infant; when I inquired about his sleep routine, he casually mentioned putting the child in the crib and turning off the light. I was bewildered. How could a child simply close his eyes and drift off?
I bring this up now as I notice, through social media and various platforms, that new parents are still navigating the complexities of sleep and attachment. They are grappling with decisions and searching for reassurance amidst their fatigue, which is entirely valid. It’s comforting to realize that even my once notoriously poor sleepers are now capable of self-soothing and independent slumber.
Interestingly, both Max and my daughter, Lily, have returned home for the summer, and it has been one of the most delightful seasons of my life. We have embraced a lifestyle reminiscent of the Searses, with our small futon—affectionately dubbed “The Crouton”—and an additional mattress creating a cozy campsite atmosphere in our bedroom. Blankets and pillows are strewn everywhere, and our evenings are spent laughing over shows like Mystery Science Theater 3000, often stretching late into the night.
As I drift off to the sounds of my partner’s laughter and my children’s soft snores, I reflect on how we could have chosen a different path, one dictated by external expectations. Instead, we opted for what brought us joy. Soon, the season will change, and we will return to our separate rooms, but I cherish the beauty of those moonlit moments, watching my children breathe peacefully, feeling profoundly grateful for these fleeting years.
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Summary
Co-sleeping has been a cherished aspect of my parenting journey, filled with intimate moments and shared laughter. As my children return home, I reflect on the joy of these experiences while recognizing the inevitable changes that lie ahead. The deep sense of gratitude I feel for these moments underscores the importance of choosing what brings happiness to our family.