Sleep is a funny thing. When you’re little, you hate it because you may be missing out on something great. So you fight the naps, and need water, and have to go to the bathroom to avoid going to bed.
Then you get older and wiser and you realize you love sleep. You LOVE naps, and sleeping until noon or three o’clock is a great way to spend a Saturday.
And then you have a baby.
All of the sudden your time is not yours anymore and that little bundle of joy could care less if you usually go to bed at 11pm. My little bundle of joy doesn’t have a bedtime yet (last night she was WIDE awake until after midnight), so guess what? Neither do I. She still ends up sleeping on my chest at night (not for lack of trying – she hates being on her back and loves being on her tummy and I’m too afraid of SIDs to let her sleep like that) and you know what? I might not be sleeping great, because I’m totally paranoid that I’ll randomly toss her off the bed or roll over her, but a part of me totally loves it.
I love that she feels safe with me. I love that even though we’re technically asleep it’s a little bit of extra time with my baby girl. I love how she fits so perfectly like a little puzzle piece and I love how her little arms and legs wrap around me.
It may not be ideal as far as my sleep is concerned, but I know she’ll grow out of it soon enough and I’ve got plenty of time to catch up on sleep.