I had every intention of my baby sleeping in a bassinet, and then eventually in his own crib; throughout my pregnancy, that was the plan. We bought and set up a bassinet in our bedroom, taking into account that I would be getting up to breastfeed, and would also be recovering from the c-section we’d already planned for. We set up a nursery, with a crib, fully anticipating his transition from said bassinet to said crib; baby monitors were purchased to make that transition manageable.
And then he was born, and every plan went flying out the window.
First, while recovering from my surgery, I wasn’t able to climb into our bed; I’d spend my first two weeks home, sleeping on the couch.
We didn’t move the bassinet to the living room, nor did I have a partner who left me on the couch to go to bed; instead, he created us a cocoon of pillows on the couch, and all three of us (four, if you count the cat) slept as a family while I healed. He would pile the pillows and set up blankets, and help me settle in for the night.
(He's the best.)
I also quit my feeble attempt at breastfeeding around the time that two weeks was up, so by the time we were back to sleeping in our room, I wasn’t nursing, and my amazing baby was sleeping in long, all-night stretches. (Because he’s also the best.)
We are what I like to call, accidental cosleepers. We put Grant to bed in his bassinet, swaddled tightly, every night. When he woke up to eat, we snuggled into bed with a bottle, and then in bed we stayed.
As time passed, he spent fewer hours at a time in the bassinet; I just wanted to snuggle him constantly. I could not set him down and walk the five feet to my own bed. I found myself actively missing him as I walked away from him in the bassinet; I would just lay in bed fighting the need to check on him. Not because I was particularly worried or paranoid, but more because I just simply couldn’t snuggle him enough.
Fast forward two years (minus a week), ans Grant still sleeps in our bed. We long gave up on moving him to a crib and got rid of it, and instead focused our attention on teaching him how to climb out of our king bed safely. He has a twin bed in his room, and he naps in it by himself without any problems...which probably means he would sleep overnight in it just fine too.
I just don’t want to move him yet.
I love sleeping next to him. I love laying in bed after everyone else has fallen asleep, watching him chew on his bottom lip (we just took his binky away a few weeks ago and he still roots around for it at night), listening to his little breath. I love waking up in the morning to the sound of his feet plopping to the floor, then hearing them run out of the room, down the hall to find his dad. I love watching him roll the corner of the bed sheet around between his fingers as he fades to sleep. I love to lean over and give his sleeping face one more smooch before I fall asleep, and I love to feel him scoot closer to me as the night goes on. It's my favorite.
Mom shame over cosleeping doesn't come from our generation; our generation cosleeps. We got it right in the sleep department. Where mom shame comes with regard to cosleeping, is from our parents' generation and their parents' generation. Grandparents are really annoyed by cosleeping. A friend of my MIL suggested Grant would be sleeping with us until he's 15 if I don't knock that shit off.
I really doubt it lady, but okay.
It's the middle aged white ladies who like to clutch their pearls over a cosleeping family.
(To be fair, it's also the women my age who don't have sex with their husbands but pretend they're humping like monkeys who ask aloud at parties "but how do you ever have sex?!")
But it's mostly the middle aged white ladies. Because in other cultures, as in my generation of white moms, cosleeping is how it's done.
"He'll be too attached to you."
Umm, that isn't a thing.
"He'll never be able to sleep alone."
He'll be just fine.
"He'll suffocate."
You tried to slam his tiny face into my huge boobs to make him nurse, and you weren't scared of him suffocating then...why are you on this soap box?
"He'll be in your bed til he's 30."
I mean, really though, fuck off.
In my reality, sleep is sleep - whether I got it because my baby snuggled me all night, or because he could lay in bed next to me and drink a bottle, or because we cuddled up for an hour and watched a movie every night, it's all still what lets me sleep. Sleep training a baby is not easy, no matter how you do it. For us, sleeping with him in our bed gets us all the best night sleep, which allows us all to be productive, happy, thriving humans.
And in 25 years, if Grant still sleeps in my bed, you can shame me about it; it'll be June of 2025. Until then, get bent.
#endmomshaming
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