Wait, did that just happen? Part 2

For the past three nights, as Anonybabe has elected to sleep straight through from bedtime to dawn in her own bed, I have regressed to the sleeping pattern I had when she was born. She slumbers peacefully while I keep waking up in a panic, to see what's happening, check her breathing, make sure she hasn't tangled a blanket over her head or caught an extremity in the bars of the crib.

I slept in a crib from day one, and when I was a kid, I didn't want to sleep in my parents' queen size. I liked being in my own bed, where I could whisper to my dolls, make a tent out of my covers, and toss and turn freely. My parents' bed was too crowded, too warm. Their bodies were loud, two adults breathing through their mouths and lightly snoring and smacking their lips and occasionally rolling over. Plus the bed smelled of them times ten. My dad's spicy sweat-tinged scent and my mom's sweet & sour aura hung in a heavy cloud over their bed. I would only go to them after a rare nightmare, needing their comfort, but not really comfortable until I could calm down enough to climb over them and back to my own twin bed, with its cool sheets and only the warm pocket I made with my body.

I kind of surprised myself by even considering "co-sleep" with Anonybabe. We live in a one-bedroom, and I figured we would all need as much private space as we could muster. But when the time came, my question to myself about it wasn't "did I want to sleep in my parent's bed", but would I want to know I was welcome there. And the answer - to my surprise - was a strong unhesitating yes!

Aside from being hella convenient, laying Anonybabe between Anonyhub and I was a personal heartfelt gesture of welcome. A symbol of openheartedness that I could hang all of my new conflicting emotions about parenting on. I may not have known what to do about anything else, but of this much I was inexplicably sure: welcoming Anonybabe into our bed had allied itself in my mind with welcoming her wholeheartedly into our lives. I decided to use co-sleeping to syphon this powerful sense of acceptance and love into my daughters life until it didn't work for us anymore.

The tide has turned, but not abruptly. We decided to give Anonybabe her little bud-bed attached to our own and as we all get more comfortable with it, it will break off into its own full-bloom bed, and then eventually it and she will branch off into their own room.

Can I celebrate this here? Doing something that feels right and having it work out? Because I try to do the right thing lots of times and can never quite feel comfortable with my methods or the outcome. Maybe I'll live to regret our sleeping arrangement, but so far I've enjoyed every moment.