MAMARAGING

Author: Marissa

  • Mom by Many Names

    I’m not just a biological mother. I’m a stepmother as well. Anyone with stepkids knows that’s a complicated title to hold. Especially when your stepkid’s other parent is in their life and not always easy to work with.

    Now, I have two stepsons. They have two different moms. I have three living biological children. One of my stepsons lives with us primarily, and the other lives in a different state but visits as often as possible. Both of my stepsons have stepfathers, and their mothers know each other. Those are a lot of complex relationships in one household.

    My stepsons are obviously the oldest of our bunch, which made things a little more complicated when we brought my bio babies into the picture. I’d had this whole idea of what my life would look like when I was an “adult.” Educated, married, career, kids, house. The whole dream. I have all of that; I’m lucky. But it’s not clean cut–my husband and I went through a wicked custody battle for one of my bonus babies, and that affected everything for my bio babies. My parenting style had to adjust because one kid was jumping from house to house with two completely different sets of rules and expectations. I couldn’t start from scratch with my kids because I inherited structures from someone else. That’s not to say I agree with those decisions or kept going with them–some of those parenting decisions were detrimental to my stepson, and I will not perpetuate them because they do not serve in his best interest.

    It’s insanely complicated. My oldest stepson moves pretty seamlessly between households–we have great communication with his mom. We uphold similar rules and standards between houses. That doesn’t mean that it’s always easy, though; co-parenting is hard for many reasons. But it’s not as smooth with my other stepson and his mom. His mom does not hold him accountable for anything. She does everything for him. It has been years of struggling to get my son to understand that his actions have consequences and he cannot blame other people for decisions he makes. It has been years of struggling to teach my son to be proactive and to learn to do things for himself (like brush his hair and pick up his messes, for example). There is so much more to that story, but that’s the short of it, and I won’t get into the messy details of the rest.

    Now, I’ve had to navigate those struggles while figuring out how to parent my bio kids effectively and mesh it all together. Because we don’t hold our kids to different standards. We expect them all to be good, caring human beings that put their best into things. All of our children are expected to do age-appropriate household chores. All of our children are urged to try new things and enjoy being children. But we expect them to be kind and empathetic and respectful. They will make mistakes. But we want them to learn from those mistakes.

    It’s hard to merge all of that together. It’s hard enough to parent your own biological children without throwing stepchildren into the mix and the trauma and challenges that come with split households.

    An example: My four-year-old knows how to do laundry (I do not let him do this on his own, but he has always enjoyed helping me with it, so I’ve been teaching him how to do it correctly). My ten-year-old can barely start the dryer without instruction. He’s an insanely smart kid. He just doesn’t apply himself. And that goes back to how he was raised by his mother in his early years. I don’t treat my kids like they are incapable of anything. They can do anything they put their minds to. And I will teach them how to do those things safely and correctly. Because one day, my babies won’t have me around to help them. I want them to be self-sufficient when they need it.

    And then there’s the relationships. I love all my kids equally. But I’d be lying if I said the relationships with my stepsons aren’t a bit harder than with my bio babies.

    Short story: There was a nasty custody battle involving one of the boys, and we were granted physical custody (meaning his lives with us). The whole situation caused lots of trauma and bitterness and confusion for my kid. I hate that it all happened the way it did, but I am not responsible for another adult’s actions. I am only responsible for my own, and I have done nothing but loved this boy and put my all into helping him grow into an amazing human. It takes a toll, though, because he does not always like me. I am his family, yes, but there is some invisible wall that I feel between us. It’s like he can’t quite let himself love me all the way. And I get it. I’m sure in his mind it feels like a betrayal to his mom. I love him regardless. But that doesn’t mean my job is easy. I have spent many nights crying because I feel like I’m failing him. Like no matter what I do or say, it’s the wrong thing.

    I think most parents feel that way at some point. Whether it’s with stepkids or bio kids or foster kids or adopted kids. Being a parent is a challenge with no right answer.

    My relationship is slightly different with each of my kids. I have to be a different version of mom for each of them because they all have different needs and different love languages. But at the end of the day, I’m always going to be a safe space for them to land. I’m always going to be mom. Even if that’s not the name they call me.

    I’m curious about other’s experiences being stepparents. It’s a very hard job, and this post doesn’t even scratch the surface of it. It’s just some of my thoughts about it lately. I’m sure I’ll have more to come in the future. But if you’re a stepparent, what does that look like for you? How do you handle the ups and downs?

  • Grieving as a Parent (or What It’s Like to Lose Part of You)

    Trigger warning: infant death, depression

    Okay. This is it. The story I both dread telling and want to scream to the world. I’m going to lay it all out for you. The good, the bad, the ugly. And trust me, there’s plenty of bad and ugly.

    This is the story of my sweet Sage, my first baby, my first daughter. The soul that was taken far too soon. This is the story of her life and death.

    It’s not an easy one to read or write, so please proceed with care–for yourself and my family. No matter how many years have passed, the grief, the sorrow still feel fresh. Losing a child is a wound that never heals. I don’t want it to heal.

    I was so excited when we found out I was pregnant with our first. I’ve always wanted children, a big family. We had recently celebrated our wedding and were adjusting to careers post grad school. It was an exciting time.

    Everything was great until our anatomy scan. I was so excited to find out what we were having (I had a feeling it was a girl). I remember this all so vividly. My ultrasound was scheduled for a day when we had snow and ice, which is unusual where I live. The ultrasound tech never made it in because of the ice. I sat in that waiting room forever. Eventually, they had one of the doctors do the ultrasound. That being my first baby, I didn’t think anything of it when they told me I’d need to come back later in the week because they couldn’t get a good look at baby girl’s head (yes–it was a girl!). I just went about my day, excited for my daughter. I already had two stepsons, so we were stoked to have a girl.

    I went back a day or two later, and I’ll never forget the midwife’s words: “I don’t have good news.”

    You know how in the movies when something earth shattering happens, time seems to slow or stop completely? Yeah, well, I felt that happen. Everything slowed down. It felt like I was in a tunnel. I was convinced it was a joke. A cruel joke. But it wasn’t.

    My daughter, my perfect, beautiful, oh-so-wanted daughter had a devastating birth defect called anencephaly. My baby girl’s brain and skull never formed properly. It’s a neural tube defect (kin to spina bifida), and it’s terminal. There is no surviving it.

    Rain poured down that day, like the universe knew.

    My daughter was going to die. No matter what I did. My body was her safe space. Where she could live. But as soon as she was born, we wouldn’t have much time with her, if any.

    To say we were devastated is an understatement. I cried for days. I worked from home because I couldn’t bear to go to the office and see my coworkers. I knew the pity and sadness I’d see on their faces would just make me burst into tears. So I isolated. Because what else could I do?

    The midwife told me there wasn’t anything they could legally do for me at that point–I was 20 weeks along, too far for an abortion in my state. She offered resources if I wanted them. I didn’t. I’m pro-choice, and my choice in this instance was to keep my baby and give her her best shot. She was alive and moving inside me, and I wasn’t ready to give her up. My husband agreed. He’s the most supportive man–he told me it was ultimately my choice because it’s my body, but that she was still our little girl, and we would do everything in our power to surround her with love and life.

    I love him infinitely for that.

    It was also the hardest thing I think I’ve ever done aside from holding her while she died.

    We didn’t tell anyone except our close family and a couple friends that are more family than anything. I couldn’t make those calls. He had to do it for me. I just couldn’t come to grips with losing my child.

    I grieved silently while we celebrated her outwardly. We wanted her to feel all the love and happiness the world had for her. But inside I was breaking. Depression slithered in and took root. But I smiled and laughed and went about life around everyone else while I carried this unbearable weight silently. Inside and in my quiet moments, I sobbed.

    I raged.

    Because I wanted this baby so much. And she was going to be taken from me. She’d never come home with us. She’d never know her siblings. I’d never see her smile or hear her laugh. I was losing everything I’d ever hoped for.

    Genetically, birth defects don’t run in my family or my husband’s. It was a freak occurrence. Or maybe not. We lived in a place that had water issues. They didn’t come to light until years after I moved there. There was a chemical being dumped in the water system called GenX. It’s related to teflon. It’s toxic. It causes all kinds of health issues, including cancer and birth defects.

    I can’t prove it, but I know this is what caused my daughter’s death sentence.

    I carried my baby to 36 weeks before we induced labor. It was terrifying. We had no idea if she’d survive birth, and if she did, how long we’d have with her.

    She was born alive. Her heart was beating. She never took a breath. She was only about 4 lbs. She was missing an essential part of her, but she was beautiful and perfect and didn’t deserve to die. Her heart beat for an hour.

    My baby lived for an hour. An hour where we cuddled her and took her in, learning our daughter. An hour I’ll never forget. An hour I’ll eternally miss. An hour of love and loss and grief and sorrow and amazement that we created a human. She was surrounded by love and loved ones.

    After she passed, we had her organs donated. That was an incredibly hard decision. But we wanted the world to feel the impact of her short life.

    She kept her eyes. I couldn’t bear to part with them. I can’t explain it, but losing her eyes felt like too much when so much was already being taken. Grief doesn’t always make sense.

    She was too small for them to use her organs for transplant, but they were used for research. They helped people. She helped people. Our daughter did more in her short life than many people do with decades.

    I miss my sweet Sage every single day. Grief doesn’t go away. It just changes.

    Her ife and death are surrounded by so many politicized events and issues. Abortion. Pollution. Women’s rights. Reproductive rights and issues. Access to good healthcare and clean water.

    Sage is not a political statement. But for me, she is a pillar of what is right and wrong with this country (US).

    More than that, she is my heart. She is the part of my soul I don’t get to watch grow. She is the angel watching over her siblings. She is my beautiful butterfly.

    And she is my grief and sorrow. My biggest heartbreak. But also one of my greatest joys. I will never regret her, but I will always miss her.

    My body remembers her, no matter how many years pass. She would have been finishing kindergarten this year. That hit hard. Six. She would be six. So many milestones missed. So many years without her in my arms.

    With Mother’s Day approaching, she’s been on my mind. Her birthday just passed. And now we’ll celebrate all the moms soon. I have to remember to be gentle with myself. Even before my other kids were born, I was a mom. Sage made me a mom.

    Be gentle with the moms out there. You never know what silent grief they may be battling. And just because you don’t see their children, that doesn’t make them any less of a mother.

    And to those mamas who have lost and are grieving: I see you. I’m here with you. Nothing ever makes it okay, but sit with that grief and remember the beautiful souls behind it. Wrap yourself in their memories.

    And please, please ask for help if you need it. There is no shame in needing help and taking care of yourself, however that looks. I’ve been on depression meds for the past five years, and I honestly don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t admitted that I wasn’t okay. A good therapist helps too. It takes tiny steps every day, but your soul will settle.

    It can be hard to talk about our absent babies, but I think it’s so important. They are a part of us, no matter how long they inhabited our bodies. They deserve to be remembered. And if it makes others uncomfortable, good. Our grief is not something to hide, and our babies are worth talking about. Make them feel uncomfortable because our babies deserve more.

    Rage for those tiny souls, mamas.

  • Full-Time Work, Full-Time Parent

    Let’s talk work and parenting.

    I have a full-time day job. I also stay home with my kids full time. We have three that are below school age currently, so I spend my days balancing my paid work with my mom work.

    Because let’s be real, being a mom is work. It’s work I love, but it’s still work. You have to be “on” 24/7 for your kids. There are needs to be met, meals to be fed, baths to be given, activities to be done. And that’s just the surface level.

    I’m lucky in that I have a flexible work from home job. They know I have kids. They encourage work/life balance. As long as my work is done on time and done well, there’s no issue. I can pop out for a kid’s doctor appointment or school pickup or whatever the case may be without an issue. I know that’s not the reality for everyone. Most parents have to physically go into an office every day and either leave their kids with a caregiver or daycare if they’re not old enough for school. And getting time off for appointments or sick days or really anything parenting related is often almost impossible for many people. At least in the U.S. (that’s a whole other issue).

    On the surface, it may seem like I have it easy. But the truth of it is that it’s incredibly hard to balance work and parenting. It’s possible. But it’s not easy. I am a great multitasker, but even I have limits. So something always gets pushed to the side–most often household chores. I think I’ve been doing the same load of laundry for about a week because I keep forgetting to put it in the dryer. My priorities are elsewhere.

    Stuffed animal dog toy sitting at a desk with a mouse and laptop in front as if working. Stuffed animal bunny and Legos in background.

    Juggling meetings and assignments with the needs of three young kids is not for the faint of heart. But as frustrating and exhausting as it may be sometimes, I wouldn’t trade it. I know how incredibly lucky I am to be able to parent my kids through all of their milestones and still hold down a salaried job. That doesn’t mean that every day is a cakewalk, though.

    I get mad. At my kids. At work. At little distractions and big time sucks. I have bad days. Some are incredibly bad days. I’m not always a good mom. I’m not always a good employee. I’m almost always tired. I get cranky and yell. But I also smile and laugh with my kids and my colleagues. I take time to play imaginatively with my babies. I set up quiet screen time so I can work in peace without distractions. I try to meet everyone’s needs, including my own. I take breaks for my sanity.

    My situation is not traditional by any means. But we live in a time and place where one income is not realistic. The economy is so chaotic right now that even with two incomes, it’s complicated. I’ve had to become a nontraditional parent and a nontraditional employee all in one.

    It’s hard–I say that a lot about parenting in general. Because it is. That’s the reality. Social media, movies, shows, other people often want to make it seem so easy and like “my kid is an angel and it’s not work to be a parent,” but that’s a lie. Parenting is messy. We do our best, but we don’t always do it right. And that’s okay. It’s okay to admit that being a parent isn’t always what we expected it to be.

    Add work on top of that. It could very easily become a recipe for disaster. But I’ve found a few things that help me balance my two selves a little better. Maybe they’ll help someone else too.

    The first thing we did when we realized I’d be working from home permanently was create a dedicated office space. With a door. We tried the whole open office thing, and it did. Not. Work. So we pivoted and created an office space in a place where there is a door that can shut and lock. Now, I don’t shut myself in when I’m home with the kids. They’re not old enough to care for themselves yet. But when my husband is home and I really need to focus, I can shut myself in. This has helped tremendously. I used to work on my laptop in bed. But I’m much more productive at my office desk. Because even though I don’t go into an office outside of the home, I still need that dedicated space where I can turn my brain to work mode .

    I also started getting dressed every day. Sounds silly, I know. But it’s o easy to fall into working in your pajamas when your job is out of your house and you’re not seeing people all the time. I’ve found that when I get up ad get ready in the mornings, it helps me to ground myself and focus. It makes me more productive. Some days, I even get fancy and do my makeup. Just for fun.

    I take breaks. I used to do this pre-kids when I did go into an office. I would sit in my office at my desk and do a bunch of work, then I would get up, walk around, get a cup of coffee, maybe pop outside for some air or have a quick chat with a coworker before going back to my desk and doing more work. We are not robots. I work better when I can do it in chunks. My brain needs breaks. My body needs breaks. So I take that same process and implement it to my home office. I work for a few hours before taking a short break to get some coffee or lunch or play with the kids for a bit. It helps both them and me.

    Some people will argue that you can possibly give your kids what they need if you’re also working. I think that’s a load of crap. Daycare workers aren’t solely watching you kid. They’re watching a bunch of others too. Schools have many kids per teacher. And I take the time throughout the day to give my kids the time and attention they need. It takes intention.

    I set a schedule. For me and the kids. I wake up at the same-ish time every morning and have a set breakfast routine with the kids. Then I go to work and the kids go to play or watch something. They come into the office to ask me things or tell me they need something. I help them. I go back to work. I stop for lunch. More work. Then once my husband and the big kids get home for the day, my workday is over. Dinnertime follows and then our nighttime routine. I firmly shut work off when I am done. Let me say that again: I shut work off when I am done.

    My home may also be my office, but that doesn’t mean that work gets to take over my life. I am a person with needs too.

    Setting that boundary has made a HUGE difference in my mental health as well as my ability to show up for my family and my job. It’s essential. I didn’t always hold that boundary so well, though. It took time and learning how to say no.

    And with that, weekends are my own. That is my uninterrupted family and me time. It’s rare that I’ll work on weekends, and when I do, it’s because it’s necessary. Weekends are when we do family things–go places and do things together. No school, no work, no other obligations. Just family and down time.

    It’s so easy to get caught up in the drag of work all the time. Especially if you work from home. But I remind myself that I work to give my kids he best. They are my why. And if I forget about my why or push them aside in favor of work, I’ve lost my way. I don’t want to miss a single precious second I’m given with these children. So boundaries and balance have become mandatory for me. Nothing is more important than my why and my mental health. And like a lot of people, I learned this the hard way through failing and falling before finding my way forward.

    I think about it a lot, and I don’t know how I would handle a job outside the house these days. That sounds crazy, I know, but I’ve been doing this for so long that I don’t know what I’d do. Adapt of course. But I think I’d be so anxious and worried about my kids all the time.

    Why did we choose this route? Partly because this is where the job market took us. But also because daycare is a whole school tuition, and I don’t trust many others with my children. They are too precious, and I have heard too many horror stories. Some way too close to home. The simple answer is that we got lucky and all the pieces fell into place to allow for this arrangement. And I’m grateful. Tired. But grateful. And trying to remember not to take a second of it for granted.

    Have any tips or tricks for balancing work and parenting? I’d love to hear them! Leave me some comments or email me at [email protected].

  • Holidays with Multiple Kids

    Background of multicolored candy eggs with Happy Easter and a blue bow on top

    Holidays are hard. I know social media and TV make them seem so dreamy and carefree but let’s be real. That mess is HARD.

    Especially when you have more than one kid. I don’t know about you, but I always feel this intense pressure to create the holiday magic. And with Easter here, I’m back at it again.

    I loved holidays as a kid. No matter what else was going on around me, I always felt this kind of magic during the holidays. And I loved it. I knew when I got older that I wanted to create that for my kids. I wanted them to have beautiful memories to look back on one day and say, “my parents made every holiday special.”

    But it is exhausting! And with five different kids on different schedules and with different wake windows, making the magic happen is hard work. I have to fit things in around their sleep and around their playtime and school. I have to stay up late and sneak away when I know none of them will miss me or come looking for me because otherwise I’d never get things done or they would lose that holiday magic wonder.

    It definitely feels harder as the kids get older too. None of my kids have grown out of the Santa, Easter Bunny, and Tooth Fairy phase, d as hard as it can be, I’m glad for it. I want them to be kids for as long as possible and hold onto that magic.

    As they get older, though, it’s harder to make it all happen without them realizing it’s me. I’ve had to learn to be extra sneaky. Take this Easter, for example. I needed to get Easter baskets and fillers, but I had to take three of the kids with me while I went shopping. A friend tagged along, and we tag teamed keeping the Easter gifts hidden. She took the stuff home for me and brought it over another day. It worked out well. But it wasn’t easy.

    I love making the magic happen for my babies. t’s one of my big parenting joys. I do wish, though, that there wasn’t this pressure to do it perfectly. Social media has made it so hard to be a real parent because it creates pressure to be the perfect parent. But perfect doesn’t exist. Kids don’t need perfect parents–they need present parents who try. And that’s what I do. I try my best. Despite budgets and economic issues. Despite logistical craziness. I always try, and I always make something beautiful happen for my kids. It’s never perfect. There’s often lots of swearing and exhaustion leading up to it. But in the end, all that matters are the smiles on my babies’ faces and the memories they’re making.

    I’m curious what traditions other people have. For Easter, we do baskets and an egg hunt with the plastic candy-filled eggs. Then we do a ham lunch/dinner and relax. Some years, we color boiled eggs (not this year with $8 eggs!). Some years we go to local egg hunts at one of the family farms. I’d love to hear what some other traditions are! Leave me some comments. I’m always looking for new ideas! What do you do to make the magic happen?

  • How To Cope When Your Toddler Doesn’t Sleep Well

    We’ve all been there. Late nights that seem to go on forever. A toddler that won’t sleep for one reason or another. And if you’re like me–with a toddler that screams all the time–overwhelmed and overstimulated. As well as overtired.

    Your little one is probably feeling the same way you are, but they don’t know how to regulate those emotions yet. So, what do you do?

    My husband and I have been at a loss with this for months. It’s been progressively getting worse–or likely just feeling like it’s getting worse because we’re consistently getting less and less sleep. And so is our toddler. We’re at our wits end.

    We both work full-time day jobs, and we have other kids to take care of as well (mom of five here!). We’re exhausted. We’re irritable. We’re not functioning at our best.

    And neither is our son.

    He’s an amazing kid. Smart, funny, curious. He’s always trying to make someone laugh and is quick to ask for a snuggle. But because he’s sleeping so poorly, he’s been more irritable and cranky and almost everything sets him off. He screams. And I mean SCREAMS at everything.

    That’s part of the problem. He doesn’t have night terrors, but you’d think he does with the way he wakes in the middle of the night and yells and screams. He’s awake. He’s yelling for us. We always come. But that doesn’t stop his screaming. It’s like once he’s set off, he can’t stop. And even once we bring him into our bed to calm him down, he still yells. He’ll fall back to sleep and then wake again not long after, yelling and crying.

    This boy relives his whole day in his sleep. He sleep talks and moves a ton, hitting and kicking in the process. To put it mildly, he’s a menace at night.

    But it’s not his fault. He’s two. His brain is developing. He doesn’t know how to cope with big emotions. And he certainly doesn’t know how to regulate his sleep.

    His dad and I are struggling, though. No amount of caffeine can help with the amount of sleep debt we’re in (did I mention we have a three month old as well?). So, what do we do?

    There’s no easy answer here, and I definitely don’t have a full-on solution. But I do have an idea of where to start.

    First, his hearing. We’re concerned that there might be something going on with his hearing. He’s always yelling. Even during the day when it’s quiet and he’s just trying to talk to someone. His voice level is LOUD. Now, he’s the fourth of five kids, and our house is usually quite rambunctious, but he even yells when there is no chance that he won’t be heard. So, we’re starting with getting his ears checked.

    We’ve already been to the pediatrician about it. They didn’t find any fluid or any obstructions. But they did take my concerns seriously (I absolutely LOVE our pediatrician). He’s been referred to an ear, nose, and throat (ENT) doctor to have a full hearing test done. In the words of our pediatrician, a lot can happen between birth and five (when most kids get their hearing checked again for school). Now, nothing has happened that makes us think he’d develop a hearing issue (no trauma to his ears or anything), but we can’t figure out why he’s always so loud. So this was the logical first step. We’re hoping the ENT is able to help. Because if something is going on with his ears, it could very well be affecting is sleep as well. Bodies are crazy and everything is connected in ways we don’t always realize.

    If nothing comes from the ENT visit, our next step will be looking into a sleep study. I did one of these as a small child. Turns out, I have sleep apnea, which is where you stop breathing in your sleep. Scary, I know.

    There are so many sleep disorders. And two-year-olds are hard as it is, so if there is a sleep disorder playing a role, learning about it is half the battle. Now, I hope none of these things are the case. I want my little boy to be healthy and happy. But I’m going to do everything I can do to make sure we’re supporting him in whatever he needs.

    And right now, he needs sleep.

    We all need sleep.

    It’s a hard thing to get as a parent. Especially when you have more than one little one. We currently have three below school age. But we’re finding that small lifestyle changes are helping some. So here’s what we’ve personally been doing to try to help lessen that sleep debt for everyone.

    Sleep when the kids sleep. I know, they always say, “sleep when the baby sleeps,” and that almost always feels impossible. But seriously, going to bed around the same time as the kids has been a game changer for me. My kids’ bedtime is seven. Do they go to sleep then every night? No. Let’s be realistic. They’re kids. They don’t want to go to bed. But we aim for seven every day. We keep a pretty consistent routine of dinner then change for bed and brush teeth–add in bath time when needed–and then they lay down and watch a movie in the family room (we don’t do TVs in the bedrooms). I’m putting the baby down in the meantime and dad is making sure the others are actually settling down, cuddling with them most of the time.

    That usually gets them calm, and nine times out of ten, the movie puts them to sleep. I realize screens before bed aren’t the best. But when you’re running on as little sleep as we are, you do what you have to.

    Bath nights are a big help too. I was always told that the best way to reset a kid is to put them in water (bath) or take them outside for fresh air. I’ve found both of these things to be overwhelmingly true. The bath helps him reset and calm down and signals to him that it’s time for his body to rest.

    Now this one is tricky because we have a big family. But we try to have the time between dinner and laying down for bed be calm time. This doesn’t always work because our older kids are getting home from school and doing homework before dinner so they want to play after if they didn’t get to before. Understandable. So this doesn’t always happen, though we try.

    That’s what parenting is all about, isn’t it? Trying.

    We try our best daily.

    Now, when our son ultimately wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, we try our best to console him and meet whatever his needs are–a snuggle, a cup of water. We want him to know he’s safe and we’re here. Always.

    Most nights this ends up with two to three kids in our bed. And while that’s not ideal, it’s okay. They’re only little once and my babies need to feel loved and cared for. Sometimes that’s hard to remember in the midst of the frustration of having a child that just does not sleep well. But I am working on being more present and grounded in those moments because I know my kids need me to be there for them. In that sense, I’m reparenting myself.

    None of these methods have been full proof, but we’re trying. We’re still exhausted and working through what’s causing the wakings and inconsolable outbursts. But what’s important is that we’re looking at this situation and seeing that there is something our son needs that we can’t pinpoint, and we are following the avenues to get it figured out to help him.

    The kicker here is that I was the same way as a small child. I have always been a bad sleeper. My parents said I was colicky. I have had insomnia for as long as I can remember. I was diagnosed with sleep apnea before I was old enough to start school. I’ve never slept through the night. And I still struggle with getting enough restful sleep.

    So I’m not surprised at least one of my kids has a hard time with sleep. It was bound to happen, right?

    But this no-sleep-cycle has got to change because it’s taking a toll. Bodies and brains are weird and all we can do is do our best.

    And now, I’m going to take my own advice and sleep while the kids sleep.