the impacts of infant sleep

One of the chapters in Nuture Shock, about the importance of sleep, really struck me. It made me appreciate once again River’s solid 12-hour per night sleep plus 2-3 hour nap. It also made me realize that him getting sufficient sleep must remain a priority as he gets older, even if that means cutting out seemingly important activities. Looking back upon my high school and college days, I did not get enough sleep and the results were horrible. I don’t know how my parents could have forced me to bed though. I guess that’s a challenge for a future decade.

While the book covers primarily toddlers through high school aged kids, I had the feeling that babies with poor sleep patterns would likely experience the same effects. Why would their brains be any better at functioning without sufficient rest? Now an article appears saying that early sleep problems do have longer-term effects.

The authors theorize that early sleep problems stem from parental behaviors, but don’t specify what they are. I suspect that having a child in the bed or in the room would be one of them. For us, River’s waking was directly correlated to his proximity to me, especially when I was breastfeeding. He’s been out of our room since the age of three months and has been a pretty great nighttime sleeper since then. But every so often, when we are traveling, we go back to being in the same room. And suddenly, I again get awakened at odd hours of the night.

When I was pregnant, I found the literature about family closeness, body heat and security to be convincing. I decided to not make any decisions at that time, but was open to the idea of co-sleeping for a longer time if that was what worked for us. I soon saw that no one slept well as a result.

And that’s the big question. Are the benefits of the closeness greater than the costs of the lost sleep and its impacts on both parents and child? I’m tempted to say no. Because I don’t see any reduced parent/child closeness among the families I know who don’t co-sleep. But I do see the effects of sleep loss on those who do.

I think this will be an interesting field of research. I’d love more hard data on the effects of certain parental practices. But I’m already convinced by the importance of sleep. That is something we will continue to focus on.

Experiment in co-sleeping

When I was pregnant with River, I didn’t have strong feelings either way about co-sleeping. I thought the security and warmth sounded good for parent/baby bonding. I also thought that the parents having some bonding time alone could be a good thing.

I ended up not having to think very much about the issue. River demanded to be held while sleeping for at least the first two months. While we traveled during his third month of life, we were able to substitute a carseat for arms. When we returned home near his third-month birthday, he accepted his co-sleeper for the first time. We moved it from the side of the bed to the foot of the bed so we could all sleep a bit better. Less than two weeks later, with River waking due to the smell of milk, mom waking with River’s sounds and movements and dad waking with River’s cries, we moved his co-sleeper to his own room about eight inches from our own. I felt a twinge of sadness and nostalgia, but realized we’d all sleep better. River didn’t seem to notice any difference.

Each step seemed to come naturally, at its own time, without any fights or resistance. So for six and a half months now, we’ve been sleeping in our separate rooms and all is fine.

Last night however we returned from a long trip that was rough on River. He had a cold and didn’t sleep while traveling. So when we returned at midnight, he was sick and exhausted and suffering. Our house was also cold and River’s room was the coldest.

We put him down and he cried. I brought him back to our room to feed. I hated the thought of putting him back into a chilly room, where even the heater doesn’t reach easily. So Mark and I decided to let him sleep with us.

Both Mark and I put in earplugs. Mark has done this ever since River was born. I don’t usually wear them. But I hoped that putting them in would reduce my reactions to his little noises that used to keep me up.

At first it was great. I loved having him in the crook of my arm. I loved the sound of his soft breath, his high-pitched cough, the feeling of his limbs beside mine. I loved keeping him warm and protected, of the whole family being together, safe and comfortable. I could see how people enjoy co-sleeping. I did, at least until I took my earplugs out.

Don’t ask me why I did it. It was during the middle-of-the-night stupor. Perhaps I became too comfortable and didn’t think River was making much noise. Perhaps I feared I wouldn’t hear an important little sigh. Maybe it was just annoying me to have things in my ears. In any case, I took them off and threw them under the bed. Once I realized my mistake, it was too late.

I couldn’t move. River was lying peacefully, his two balled fists over his face. If I sat up and tried to retrieve my earplugs, I’d surely wake him. Same thing if I went to the bathroom. So I held in the pee, for hours and hours, did without the earplugs, and ended up listening to River’s heavy breaths through a stuffed nose and feeling his twitches throughout the rest of the night. When he woke at 7 a.m., I was exhausted and so was he. I put him in his crib with a bottle and he slept a few more hours.

Tonight I’m glad to know that he’s safe and comfortable asleep in his crib. I’m looking forward to heading toward a large bed where I can move freely.