In the middle of the other night my 3 year old came to my bed. It’s not new. We’re down to about 2 or 3 nights a week. He climbs into bed next to me and goes right back to sleep. It does make my night more difficult – I don’t sleep nearly as well when he does because I still nurse and cosleep with my 10 month old for most of the night too. But I don’t turn him away. I don’t fuss at him. I don’t even have him sleep in the floor like I did my first 2 children when they were this needy age. I just roll over. And ask him gently the next night to try to stay in his bed until the sun shines through his window. Some weeks are better than others. It seems to come and go in phases.
So the morning after one such night this sweet boy said, “When I walked to your bed last night, my legs were wiggly.” I asked what he meant, if he meant he was sleepy wiggly or scared wiggly. “I was wiggly,” was all he responded. A couple of minutes later he followed up with “Know why my legs were wiggly in the night, Mama? I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up.” I asked him if I had ever not awakened before and reassured him I’d be there to take care of him in the night if he needed me. To not ever worry about that.
Boy, am I glad I parent gently this time around. And how I wish I had followed my instincts to parent gently the first couple times around, to not always put me first. To remember they need me. Even in the middle of the night.
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