Then I got married and learned to share a full-sized mattress with Zac.
Now he and I end up clinging to our respective edges every night because there is a chunky monkey in the middle.
We never intended for Wyatt to sleep with us. We bought a sturdy crib, picked out cute bedding accessories with a transportation theme and turned our spare room into a nursery.
Before Wyatt’s birth, I convinced Zac to move the crib into our room.
I rested easier knowing that our son was sleeping at the foot of our bed instead of a wall away. Having Wyatt so close was also easier on me during late night feedings.
Like millions of mothers before me, I always seemed to be the one stumbling to the kitchen to make a bottle while my husband pretended to sleep through our newborn’s cries.
I usually picked up Wyatt on the way and put him next to his daddy.
I didn’t want the baby to feel alone until I returned. Plus, it would have been inconsiderate of me to let Zac miss the fun of being a first-time parent.
The boys started snuggling before I came back to bed, so I got in the habit of letting Wyatt take his bottle while lying between us.
For several months, I forced myself to put Wyatt back in his crib.
I know the experts say that sharing a bed with an infant is dangerous. Although I was fairly certain that Zac and I would not accidentally roll on top of our child in the middle of the night, I didn’t want to take any chances.
I became a little lax when I went back to work, though.
These days it is challenging for me to juggle my personal and professional life. At that point, it was simply exhausting.
Neither Wyatt nor I wanted to move once he was done eating every night.
I would sit Wyatt’s empty bottle on my night stand and tell myself, “Okay. Time to move him.” The next thing I knew it was 6 a.m. and the three of us were still in bed together.
I could have solved the problem by not feeding Wyatt in our bed anymore, but the truth is that I enjoyed having him next to me. Maybe it was my way of making up for all the hours that I was spending away from him.
Also, nothing relaxed me more at the end of a stressful day than to hear Wyatt snoring softly in my ear.
It was a beautiful experience until my sweet angel unleashed his inner Jackie Chan.
Zac was the first to complain that Wyatt was kicking him in the ribs. I thought he was just being a whiny baby until I started taking slaps upside the face.
The attacks come when we least expect it. We can just be drifting off to dreamland and then bam, thwack, KAPOW!
As if being beaten up isn’t bad enough, we have also been booted out of bed on more than one occasion.
Wyatt likes to stretch out his long limbs while he sleeps, which usually leaves Zac and I barely enough room to curl up in the fetal position.
We became unhappy with this sleeping arrangement fairly quickly and tried to make Wyatt sleep in his crib.
However, he knew a good thing when he had it. He would sob uncontrollably whenever he woke up alone.
Some babies learn to soothe themselves back to sleep. Not this kid. He would stand in his crib blubbering “Mama” through his tears until I couldn’t take it anymore.
As soon as I brought him back to our bed and his head hit one of our pillows, he was out like a light.
Wyatt eventually stopped crying when he woke up in his crib. Unfortunately, it was because he realized he could crawl out.
One night I woke up to the sickening thud of my baby hitting the floor. I was overcome with guilt as I thought of how he could have paralyzed himself trying to get to me.
After that, we replaced Wyatt’s crib with a toddler bed. Now when he wants to sleep in the big bed, he just gets up, wakes one of us with a solid slap on the shoulder and gives us a look that says, “Hey, scoot over. You’re in my spot.”
Zac and I won’t be having any more kids. That bed isn’t big enough for four of us.