I used to love co-sleeping with my son, we do it very safely and not often.
As a result I barely EVER sleep when it happens.
- I’m scared I’ll suffocate him.
- My partner has a history of sleep elbowing me in the face – so I have to protect the child from the sleep elbow.
- The child is 7 months old now and he kicks like a fucking mule. I might have known; he was kicking very early in the womb. Hard.
- My place in the bed is on the verge, the edge and I’m always scared I’ll fall off into the abyss i.e. the floor.
These reasons alone ensure I more often than not, want some ‘me’ sleep time and push for the bear to be in his cot.
When this feeling is strong, my partner seems to hone in on it and becomes the most neediest father that ever lived.
“I need to cuddle my son.”
“I barely spend time with him.”
And co-sleeping happens.
For an hour. And then the bear kicks like a mule/the partner wants to move/is too hot/is too cold/has baby sweat on him/I’m taking up too much room/wants to go to sleep, a deep sleep and then I’m left with the responsibility of the baby.
Thank you. You fucker.
I put him back in his cot, he cries blue murder as he’s already been disturbed three times, he loves sleeping with us or he takes after his dad and is just a douche. Not really he’s awesome. Fact.
So my partner gets the lovely falling asleep, look at his face, oh he’s snoring moment and I get the rest. This is my life, well, my nightimes.
I feel if you want to co-sleep then you have the responsibility ALL night long because I need my fucking sleep because I’m fucking knackered from all this co-sleeping, hacking cough and feeling ill shit while you’re also pestering me for a blowjob in the middle of the night! So let me sleep, goddamn it!!!
Sooooo… we had a chat. And last night I only had responsibility for the bear from about 5am. And that dear people is a win, in my life anyway.