Sharing Sleep

I love sharing sleep with our children.

I more than love it. I believe in it, deeply. I am grateful for our decision to make our bed a family bed nearly every day*. I am absolutely certain that our children are happier and more secure for the time they've spent sleeping with us, and that I am a happier and more confident mother for having listened to my instincts in this regard (which is not to imply that children who don't sleep with their parents, or parents who don't sleep with their children, are necessarily any less happy or less secure/confident; I'm only referencing my own kids and my own experience). I would make the same choice again, if I had it to do over (and, notably: Lena would, too).

When I implied in my last post, somewhat facetiously, that having our kids in our bed might not have been the wisest choice, I knew that I would later have to write this post: about how even though choosing to have a family bed might seem like a sure-fire way to send one's marriage (and sex life) directly into the doldrums, that's not what happened for us.

It would be easy to assume that co-sleeping might result in reduced physical intimacy, romance, and connection in a marriage. But I think that doing so would be to "not see the forest for the trees." A truly strong physical, romantic and emotional connection would not suffer for the parents in a marriage choosing to share sleep with their kids. The reality for us is that as lesbians in a long-term relationship, as parents of small children, as lactating mothers, Lena and I have had to overcome a lot of obstacles, stacked against us in the bedroom. Did adding babies to our bed serve to compound those other potential issues? I suppose it could have, but I don't think it did. Co-sleeping has done so many positive things for us--as a family, as co-parents, as partners--that I think the benefits of our family bed have far outweighed any potentially negative side-effects.

First of all, we've gotten a lot more sleep as bed-sharers than we otherwise would have, and any marriage benefits from well-rested participants. Beyond that, we've gained self-esteem (for having trusted our instincts), we've suffered less anxiety (because I honestly cannot imagine how I ever would have not slept with our babies; I would have been in a state of panic), we've respected each other and each other's innate mothering skills, and we've gotten to appreciate each other as the nurturing people who we are (I still melt when I happen upon a scene of Lena snuggled around one--or more--of our kids). Waking up together as a family is intimate and cozy. It feels natural and genuine and invigorating. And it's some of the only snuggling time that we get with our bigger kids.

But, so, then, what is the solution? If we can't blame the family bed for our relationship struggles, what can we blame? What can we do differently as we begin the difficult work of trying to repair and rebuild our marriage? I think that the main reason why things began to deteriorate for us is because we failed to prioritize our marriage, forgetting that it wasn't something that would just automatically receive attention in our busy, busy lives. We were prioritizing a lot of things: the kids, our community and social life, laughter, our love of the natural world, our jobs, keeping the house in relatively good shape . . . and we somehow took for granted that our marital connection was intact and along for the ride. But, of course, this is a rather simplistic way of looking at it all, and in truth there were many different factors that all contributed to Lena and I losing each other in the way that we did.

We are not going to stop sharing sleep with our children. We hope to let them self-wean from the family bed, and we hope that they don't choose to do that all together for a long, long time. But we are changing some bad habits that we'd gotten into in relation to the ways that Lena and I had been choosing to spend our (limited) alone time together. And we are absolutely going to be prioritizing our need for intimacy--of all kinds--as we move forward.

This is a really hard time, still. We are struggling, daily, sometimes hourly, to see each other and to feel connected. But as I reflect over the choices that I've made, and that we've made as a couple, I find it helpful to point out not only the places where we tripped, or messed up, but also the things that we got right. And I think that the creation of our family bed extraordinaire falls into the latter category. Our bed has not failed us. If anything, our bed has been a kind of glue, keeping us together in the face of all so many challenges, reminding us every morning of what we want this life to be: soft, warm, colorful, welcoming, cozy, and with lots of room to spare.

*yes, definitely, there are days (or, more specifically: mornings, post restless nights) when I fantasize about sleeping 10 hours without anyone small touching me, breathing next to me, or tossing and turning beside me.