When my son was 4 years old in March 2020, we started lying with him to help him get to sleep. Life as we knew it had changed, and the pandemic gripped the world.
My husband and I tried not to talk about what was going on in the news in front of our son, but in some ways, I think he could sense our fear about what was happening. It could also have just been a normal preschool-age sleep regression, as kids often start to fear the dark around this time, but for whatever reason, our son wanted us to stay in the room with him until he fell asleep.
And so, my husband and I began cuddling him until he drifted off. During those many months of lockdowns in Melbourne where we live, I secretly loved that special time of the day with my son. We’d curl up together in his crimson-red fire truck bed and talk about anything and everything.
Our conversations varied, but I treasured them all
Sometimes, we would chat about the day’s adventures. We’d talk about finding bugs in the park or constellations in the sky or about discovering a new pop-up street library on one of our neighborhood walks.
Other times, he would share sweet observations or compliments with me. “Mommy, when you’re an old granny, I’ll tell my kids you were a wonderful mommy,” he whispered to me one night. I felt like my heart was going to explode with happiness.
On occasion, there would be big questions from my little boy, leaving me lost for answers. “Mommy, when I die, can I be put in the middle of you and Dad,” he asked me out of the blue one night. I remember burying my head in his soft little neck and trying to control the swell of emotion, unsure how to reply.
But our conversations weren’t always so heavy. Often, my son and I would lie in bed laughing until our stomachs ached. Once, I was holding one of his toys when he jumped in. “Careful, mommy, that’s delicate, just like daddy’s toe,” he said. My husband has enormous feet and is always stubbing his big toe, and my son must have heard me call him “delicate” at some point. We laughed and laughed that night.
We had two more kids, and we cuddle them to sleep, too
When my daughter arrived, my husband and I started cuddling her to sleep, too, once she was out of her cot. Our conversations were less about bugs and space and more about fairies and unicorns, but magical nonetheless. “Momma, you’re boo-tiful,” she’d say. “I love you more than 10 bananas.”
Now that we have three children, getting them all into bed can be time-consuming, and if I’m honest, I have felt frustrated at times, especially when it’s been a long day with work and life admin. I remember when Alicia Silverstone was in the news in 2022 for co-sleeping with her then-11-year-old son, and thinking that it was time that we broke our own nightly cuddling-to-sleep habit. We tried a few techniques half-heartedly, like having a consistent bedtime routine and weaning our support, but it never really worked.
My son is now 9 and our conversations have changed a lot. We sometimes talk about tiffs he’s had at school or worries he’s been harboring. Thankfully, our night-time cuddle routine hasn’t impacted his ability to go to school camps or have sleepovers, so I think it’s still working out. He’s also starting to show signs that puberty is on the way and can be moody and uncommunicative at times, which makes me cherish our nightly chats even more.
I know there will come a time when my children don’t want me to lie with them any longer, and that’s completely normal and natural. But for the time being, I will savor these precious moments listening to my babies drift off, their breathing slowly changing, their hands warm in mine. It’s a golden time of the day when the rest of the world’s noise fades away, and it’s just us.
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