Bed sharing

 Bed sharing is one of those things nobody can really prepare you for.

They talk about the bonding.
The closeness.
The magic of feeling your baby’s breath rise and fall against your chest.

What they don’t talk about
is the stiffness in your neck
the numb arm
the half-dreaming sleep
the way you wake up already tired.

They don’t talk about how you lie there in the dark, afraid to move an inch because a tiny hand is resting on your rib, or a warm cheek is pressed into your collarbone, and the thought of waking them feels heavier than your own exhaustion.

They don’t talk about the mental math.
Is this safe?
Is this okay?
Is this what my baby needs tonight?
Is this what I need to survive tomorrow?

Some nights, bed sharing feels like the only way anyone is getting rest.
Some nights, it feels like you haven’t truly slept in months.

You crave space.
Then you miss them when you get it.

You ache for your own pillow.
Then you melt when they curl closer.

It’s complicated.
And holy.
And hard.

Motherhood lives in that contradiction.

In the quiet moments between deep breaths and shallow sleep,
when your body is tired
but your heart is full
and your soul knows
this season is both beautiful and brutally human.

You are not doing it wrong.
You are doing what mothers have always done.

Finding your way
one long night at a time.