My journey into the perplexing realm of children and their sleep patterns began with my energetic 3-year-old stepson, who would wake up at dawn with a loud crowing that felt almost supernatural. I was determined that my own children would be different—more reasonable in their sleep habits.
When my first daughter was born, she was quickly placed in my arms, but I was whisked away for some necessary stitches and recovery. That night, as I attempted to nurse her, change her, and swaddle her before placing her in the transparent cot next to my hospital bed—a safe distance for sleep—she cried incessantly. No matter how many times I tried to soothe her, she continued to wail.
Then, a midwife entered, gently placing my daughter in the crook of my arm. To my surprise, she fell asleep. I was overwhelmed with fear, thinking, “This isn’t how I envisioned it.” Co-sleeping was not part of my plan. We swaddled and introduced a pacifier. When the time came, I weaned her off the pacifier, but at five months, she decided naps were no longer for her. I even let her cry it out. I was fixated on creating a good sleeper, often neglecting my happiness as a mother in the moment. Those early mornings filled with cries at 5:45 a.m. turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as they saved me money on alarm clocks.
Now I realize: sometimes, babies just want to be close to their mothers. It’s a natural instinct.
My second daughter arrived with calmness after an epidural and some laughing gas. This red-haired beauty, serene as can be, seemed to have a peaceful disposition. During our skin-to-skin time, I welcomed her to the world and assured her she was safe. Two hours later, she was peacefully asleep in her cot beside me. By three months, she was sleeping soundly from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., and even at 20 months, she enjoys a solid two-hour afternoon nap, snuggling under the covers with her thumb in her mouth. Had I finally cracked the code of motherhood and sleep?
Now I understand: some babies are simply more inclined to sleep than others.
My third daughter made her entrance with a determined fist raised above her head, ready for battle. As she latched onto me, I realized we had yet another baby with a tongue-tie. This little girl, who would fill her tummy with air while nursing, often screamed in her sleep.
I’ve come to learn that some babies have a strong need to suck. That’s just their way.
The stargazer, the pacifist, the warrior—these three girls have shown me that babies are individuals, each with their own quirks and preferences. We don’t get to choose their hair color, eye color, temperament, or sleep patterns.
What I’ve learned is that sleep is essential, but it’s also fluid. It can be guided but never fully controlled. I often reflect on my parenting journey, regretting how hard I was on myself for not trusting my instincts about what felt right. Ultimately, we can’t dictate their outcomes; we can only decide what kind of parents we want to be in each moment.
I’ve learned that parenting isn’t about control or creation; it’s about responding. While science can inform our choices, parenting is more of an art form. And like any artist, I’m still learning and growing.
If you’re interested in exploring more about parenting, you might want to check out this post on home insemination as a way to start your family journey. For couples on their fertility journey, Make a Mom provides invaluable resources. Additionally, the CDC offers excellent guidance on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, each child is unique, and their sleep patterns can be influenced but not controlled. As parents, we must learn to adapt and respond to our children’s individual needs, embracing the unpredictability of parenting.