There’s no sympathy quite like a newborn that won’t sleep.
But the expectation is that we suddenly gain control of the situation when their neck does.
Like, the fourth trimester is over so better get things in order. As if it’s that simple.
But I have toddlers now, and they still want me close, and it can be hard at night.
But despite it being hard, I can still say that while I have chosen the responsive approach, I get over the tiny elbows and knees that wake me in the night, but I love watching their little eyelids flutter closed as they drift off.
I can still crave my own space with absolutely no intention of ever buying a California king.
I can still tell you that I’m tired without it meaning I want to listen to them cry for me when they want comfort.
I can still tell you it can be chaos round here and dream about another.
When they were tiny babies I could remember sometimes hearing their cries before it happened, and now I can hear the little footsteps as they make their way to our room.
I think the feeling of being so attuned to them is exhausting in itself.
They did go through a short season of sleeping through, but it might as well have been a blip on our radar, but I believe that as mothers we come apart when sleep becomes the only answer.
And we do sleep, but in this season it’s still a little broken, despite it being together.
And the separation we once tried just caused our hearts to divide.
I don’t think I went wrong anywhere, because it’s never felt wrong to them, or me.
So if you’re in the same boat as me years later, I won’t give you sympathy, but understanding.
They won’t always call out for us in the night.
Or climb into bed with us.
Or want cuddles before sleep.
But I know some nights are still hard.
My nose is in a mug with you this morning. ☕️
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