Three Tweaks Every Parent Should Make to Their Sleep Training Program
After four years of sleep deprivation, I have finally succeeded in getting all four of us to sleep through the night. It's unconventional and ill-advised, but it works.
Our pediatrician gave me the highest compliment this past week. He acknowledged that I have made a lot of sacrifices for my daughters. He said not all parents are willing to give up convenience, and that I will continue to see the beautiful payoff of my labor.
Then, he asked my about my daughters’ sleep habits, and I laughed.
If we’re lucky, the day will come when my daughters will be teenagers who sleep until noon. I’m not wishing away their childhood, but it’s been rough over here. The number of nights we’ve slept uninterrupted in the last four years and—up until last month—was zero.
I did what people do. I blamed external factors—the NICU, the all-night-long feedings GI prescribed until they were 12 months old, bad genes. And then I told my husband it was his job to solve this problem.
“I’m deciding what they are going to eat, and where they are going to go to the ophthalmologist, and how we will educate and socialize them.” I told Jerod.
“I have to regulate my impatience and frustration all day in order to help them regulate theirs.” I continued.
“I need you to do this one thing.”
To dramatically abridge what happened next, I’ll say my dear husband—despite his very best intentions—did not succeed. And I let him suffer and fail, which was maybe not my most compassionate look. (But I am so tired.)
After two weeks of mishaps and two little girls who were falling asleep every time I loaded them into the car, I started my second Make Bed Time Great Again campaign. (The first campaign was working, but then we took a five-week vacation, which upended any semblance of routine.)
For the most part, I followed the approach of a certain mid-western sleep expert who is best known for taking care of babies (IYKYK), with a few sacrilegious tweaks.
First: I made a mattress sleeve that my daughters have to slip into in order to cover themselves, thus ensuring they will not uncover themselves and beg me to come tuck them in again. It also serves as a way of making it very difficult to get out of bed in the middle of night. (Thinking about selling these. Worried it might be against the Uniquely American Academy of Sleeping Children and Families’ Handbook.)
Second: I promised them a reward for every night they slept through the night. Some people might also call this a bribe; those people would be correct.
Letting them choose their rewards has made for a weird and excessive collection of cups and water bottles from Five Below, but that feels like a small price to pay for a full night’s sleep.
Third: On day five of the seven day plan, my daughters started falling asleep in five minutes flat and sleeping through the night. The idea of this program is that you wean your children of the need for your presence at bedtime by slowly backing yourself further and further out of the room at bedtime every other night. On day five, I was siting in the hallway just outside their bedroom door at bedtime, and we had this glorious sleep experience. I am pretty sure a chorus of angels woke us up the next morning.
It’s now day 25, and I’m still sitting just outside their bedroom door at bedtime; the angels are still singing every morning.
The sleep-training purists are shaking their well-slept little heads at me right now. You need to equip them to be able to fall asleep and stay asleep on their own. It’s an important skill. Don’t give up! Don’t stay stuck!
OK, Cara. I would love to hear your thoughts after you spend four years living with two insomniacs who insist you stay awake with them.
I have sacrificed a lot to get my daughters to where they are—and I’m not about to stop at hard tile floor and a $200/month bribery allowance.
Hallelujah for sleep!!! What a gift.