When Sleep Became More Than Sleep
(Sleep Routines – one song, one light, one long night at a time)
I used to think sleep was just… sleep.
You lay down, you rest, you wake up.
Then I had her.
And suddenly, sleep became something sacred — and strangely political.
“Don’t rock her to sleep, she’ll never learn.”
“Use white noise.”
“Don’t use white noise.”
“Put her down drowsy, not asleep.”
“Sleep when the baby sleeps.”
Right.
I tried.
But she only slept on me.
And I only slept in 11-minute intervals, sitting up, heart racing.
The first week, I kept Googling “how to get newborn to sleep.”
By week two, I just whispered:
“Please, just one stretch longer tonight.”
It wasn’t until one night — around 2:17am —
when I gave up on all the rules.
I dimmed the light, wrapped her in the softest sleep sack,
turned on a warm humming sound I found on YouTube,
and started humming along.
I didn’t check the clock.
I didn’t track how long it took.
I just let it be slow.
She fell asleep.
And so did I.
And something inside me healed a little.
Since then, our “routine” has been less about perfection,
more about repetition.
A warm bath.
A lotion she recognizes.
A lullaby I never remember finishing.
A soft crib light with stars that dance on the ceiling.
And yes — a little stuffed animal I swore she was too young to care about,
but now she grips it like it’s part of her.
Sleep isn’t about control anymore.
It’s about rhythm.
About giving both of us the same signal:
“You’re safe now. You can let go.”
Some nights, she still wakes up three times.
Some nights, just once.
But now, instead of resenting the interruption,
I rise like a tide — slow, half-dreaming —
and meet her where she is.
Gentle Sleep Sack : The fabric that helped me let go of the fear that she’d wake the second I set her down. Cozy, breathable, magic.
Soothing Crib Light Projector : Her sky before the sky. A bedtime ritual that gives both of us something quiet to look at when the world feels loud. Not just white noise — it’s the soundtrack to our new beginning.