When my first child, Liam, was a baby, I felt like I spent countless hours trying to coax him to sleep. I tried everything: nursing, rocking, storytelling, and even letting him cry it out occasionally. My husband and I formed a tag team; he would bounce Liam on a yoga ball while I nursed him, then he’d take him for a walk in the baby carrier before I cuddled him to sleep. It often turned into a lengthy ordeal.
Despite our best efforts—exercising him during the day, sticking to strict nap and bedtime schedules, and limiting sugary snacks—Liam resisted sleep with all his might. His eyes seemed permanently wide open, and his mind was always racing. Although it was challenging, it wasn’t a nightly nightmare. Once he finally fell asleep, he usually slept well, but the winding down process was a struggle.
Initially, I blamed myself for his sleep issues. I thought perhaps I was inadvertently causing his distress or not providing enough structure. Even though he was a cheerful and healthy child, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something, a common plight for mothers grappling with sleep troubles.
Fast forward five years, and I welcomed my second son, Noah. Honestly, one reason I waited so long between children was due to the exhausting experience with Liam’s sleep habits. I assumed Noah would mirror his brother’s challenges, as I believed sleep patterns were largely influenced by parental methods.
To my astonishment, Noah had almost no trouble drifting off. While he enjoyed some cuddling or nursing to relax, once we hit that sweet spot, he would fall asleep quickly and peacefully.
We followed similar routines for both kids, leaning toward a more natural approach. I nursed them both for several years, allowed them to co-sleep for as long as they desired, and stayed with them until they dozed off. Yet, Liam still struggled to settle down, while Noah would fall asleep the moment his head met the pillow.
I’m not a sleep expert, but I’ve decided to let go of the guilt regarding Liam’s sleep difficulties. I’m beginning to think that children come with their own “sleep temperaments,” just like they arrive with distinct personalities and traits.
I’ve seen this in other families, too; friends who enforce similar sleep routines have children who fall into various categories of sleepiness. Some kids seem destined to be night owls while others are natural early risers. Recognizing this reality can lift the weight of self-blame off parents’ shoulders.
When you understand that your child’s sleep challenges may be part of their inherent nature, it becomes easier to shift focus from blame to support. For Liam, who still finds it hard to wind down at times, my goal has been to help him accept this about himself. We’ve explored various techniques—like meditation, calming music, and white noise—while I’m open to other solutions, including melatonin if needed.
I empathize with those dealing with difficult sleepers. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by unsolicited advice from others who assume a consistent bedtime or a spritz of lavender oil is the answer. While you can certainly explore countless sleep strategies, acknowledging that your child might simply have a more challenging sleep temperament can be liberating. This realization has been a game-changer for me and could be for you too.
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In summary, while every child has their own unique sleep patterns, accepting these differences can ease the burden of parental guilt. It’s essential to recognize that some kids simply don’t sleep well, and this isn’t a reflection of your parenting. Embrace the journey and seek out the best ways to support your child’s individual needs.