When my first child, Ben, was born, sleep quickly became a distant memory. He would only doze off if someone held him like a football, nestled in one arm. My partner, Sarah, and I divided our nights—she took the first half until about 3 a.m., and I took over after that. We spent countless hours staring at the TV, half-awake and desperately wishing for a miracle solution to help him sleep. Like many parents, we embarked on a quest for answers.
We began with the cry-it-out method, a widely recommended approach for sleepless babies, but it turned out to be one of the most challenging things I’ve faced as a parent. Sarah believed it was cruel, while I sat there with bloodshot eyes, trying to stay awake as a busy college student working full-time. I often found myself dozing off on public transport, waking up in unfamiliar places. “I can’t keep doing this,” I finally admitted.
After much debate, we decided to give it a shot. We placed Ben in his crib and let him cry. I comforted him occasionally, but I never picked him up. It took three long nights of listening to him wail, and at times, I felt like crying myself. It was heartbreaking to hear my little one sob while I did nothing. I’ll admit he started sleeping better—for about a week. Then he caught norovirus, and everything fell apart—both literally and figuratively.
Once he recovered, he was back in my arms at night, and surprisingly, I didn’t mind as much. Holding him through the night felt far less torturous than letting him cry it out, so I vowed never to do that again.
Fast forward nine years; I’ve never let any of my kids cry it out. Now, we have three children—two girls and a boy. With each of them, we’ve tried every trick in the book to help them sleep. We attempted strict schedules, but with work and school, that never really worked out. We experimented with essential oils, which were about as effective as snake oil. We even tried keeping our children from napping, which was more exhausting than you can imagine. It felt like running a sleepless marathon while wrangling a grumpy toddler.
We would rush to get dinner ready, only to abandon it when we noticed a child getting drowsy. The interruptions often meant leaving tasks unfinished. We tried rubbing various aromatherapy lotions on them, filled with lavender and chamomile, but instead of calming them, it often sent them into giggle fits, making me feel more tired than before.
What irked me the most about these ineffective sleep strategies was that so many parents swore by them. Every time I tried one that didn’t work, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with my child.
Our middle child, Lily, would only settle down if she was in her high chair, with soft music playing, and no one around. It wasn’t the worst situation, but Sarah worried that she would never sleep in a bed. I reassured her, “It’s not like she’ll be in college sleeping in a high chair.” And, as it turns out, I was right. My two oldest, Ben and Ava, now 9 and 6, both go to bed at a reasonable hour. Sure, they resist sleep, but by 8:30, they’re usually down, leaving our youngest, about to turn 2, still awake.
To get her to sleep, I play Baby Einstein: Lullaby Time on repeat, clear out the room, and hold her on the couch for what feels like an eternity. Sometimes it takes longer than expected. The movie has an endless loop of toys and soothing music, and I often find myself mesmerized, thinking, “The train moves in a circle. I get it now.”
During those long nights with my youngest, I remind myself that my older kids sleep through the night now. It took longer than I hoped. Sarah and I have exchanged some pretty wild remarks that only two sleep-deprived people who love each other can say. I think back to my reassuring words about Lily never sleeping in her high chair forever.
As much as I want my toddler to sleep, and as frustrating as it is to realize that my children took years to figure out sleep, they eventually did. Time proved to be the only real solution. I know that some parents or “sleep experts” may be eager to share their advice, but let me say this: This message is for the parents with the little fighters—the ones like mine. The long nights can be unbearable, but believe me—your children will eventually sleep. There is hope. There is a light at the end of this tunnel. The real key is unconditional love and time—and I’m sure you have plenty of both.
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In summary, the journey of sleepless nights can be overwhelming, but patience and love always shine through. Every child eventually learns to sleep on their own, and the trials you face now will be just a distant memory in time.