Yeah, we don’t cosleep anymore.
Except, again, when we do.
We didn’t at first either and then we did. And then, well, she was bigger and we needed to sleep and so we transitioned her back into her own bed.
And every night I watch her through the glow of a monitor and about a dozen times a night I want to go back in to her room and bring her into bed with us so I can hear her breathing next to me and smell her sweet smell and feel her little toes curl against my leg as she sleeps.
And then I doze off again.
Some nights she stays in her bed all night.
Some nights I hear the little pitter patter of her feet down the hallway to our room three hours after she has gone to bed; other times it’s a whole six to eight hours.
We don’t turn her away.
We bring her pillow and stuffed animal and water bottle into our room.
We help her climb sleepily onto our bed and nuzzle in next to us.
Of course this is where she wants to be – where it’s warm and she can reach out and pat our arms, and she can nuzzle and nudge her way into the curves of our bodies, tucked warmly beneath the covers.
This is where she knows she is safe.
This is where she knows she is loved.
This is where she knows.
And I know, in my heart, for as long as she needs me, there’s no other place I’d rather she be.
PUBLISHING NOTE: originally posted this on my Facebook page and in a few groups. I had over a thousand likes/hearts in the groups and over a hundred messages from mothers and fathers with whom this resonated. It’s a short post, but I’m putting it on my blog here just because it seems to have made an impact on so many readers.
You can follow me on my journey on Facebook at: Colleen Warwick Green