As a pediatrician and a parent, I find myself frequently lying beside my 2-year-old son during his nap time. It’s not a strict requirement, but it has become a comforting routine for both of us. If I skip this ritual, he tends to wake up sooner and can be quite irritable. So, when he stirs, I’m there. I might check my email, jot down some thoughts, or simply close my eyes for a moment.
After eight years of parenting, I’ve stopped overanalyzing my choices as a mother. My approach leans towards attachment parenting, and I’ve settled into a rhythm that feels natural. There’s no need for constant self-assessment; it just works for us. However, I recognize that not all parents are able to spend their children’s nap times in such close proximity. Many are working, juggling multiple responsibilities, or simply have children who don’t need as much physical closeness as mine. I completely understand that every family finds their own way.
Recently, my older son had a Pajama Day at school, where he was to bring a favorite stuffed animal. He laughed and said, “I guess I’d have to take you with me, Mom.” Although he no longer shares a bed with us, we still enjoy those quiet moments together at night, with either his father or me by his side until he drifts off.
My younger son, however, still needs that closeness. He sleeps beside me at night and often during naps. I am aware that this level of dependence may seem unusual to some, but it has become second nature for me as a parent.
Why do I maintain this routine? Partly, it’s out of convenience; responding to my child’s needs feels easier than finding alternative methods to soothe him. But more than that, it’s an instinct. I’m not swayed by critics. I do what feels right.
Most importantly, I’m holding on. I cherish these fleeting moments of childhood. I know that independence will come inevitably, and time marches on, regardless of my wishes. My eight-year-old already resists those bedtime cuddles; I’m lucky to get a moment of his affection before he retreats to his room, shutting the door behind him.
My little one still lets me hold him, and he craves that connection. His small frame curled into mine fills my heart with warmth. His hair, still faintly smelling of baby, reminds me of how quickly these days will pass. The thought of it ending is almost painful. I know it will, and I want to savor every second.
So, despite the occasional frustration when my own time is interrupted, or when I feel overwhelmed, I make the choice to lie next to him in the dark. I take this time to absorb every bit of his childhood, pausing time for just a moment.
For those interested in exploring parenting topics further, this blog post on intracervical insemination provides insightful information about family planning. Additionally, for those on a fertility journey, Make a Mom is a reliable source for artificial insemination kits. You can also discover excellent resources on treating infertility at ACOG.
In summary, as I lie with my son, I embrace the precious connection we share, knowing that these moments are fleeting.