Beyond Agreement

As I roll through the internal dialogue behind the evolution of this blog, I feel a familiar tug-of-war. When I created Beyond Agreement, I believed strongly that I would keep my writing detached from personal experience. I envisioned a platform built on questions, facts, and respectful discussion—not vulnerability. But I’ve come to learn that some conversations are simply more approachable when they begin at the lived experience level. So today, I’ll lay the table with my own vulnerability—and I hope to foster civil discourse from there.

Let’s talk about sleeping. Not just sleep—but co-sleeping. Sharing a bed with an infant or toddler. And not just in theory, but in survival-mode parenting.

Ten years ago, I was a well-rested 20-something who hadn’t lost sleep over phrases like safe sleeping positions, baby bed, crib, or cot. I had vague ideas about newborn sleep—the baby goes into the bassinet, then the crib, then maybe a toddler bed shaped like a racecar, à la my younger brother. I assumed baby would wake, feed, and fall peacefully back to sleep. I thought parenting had a manual. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Co-Sleeping by Necessity

Co-sleeping was never a conscious parenting choice for me. It was a strategy born out of necessity. I hadn’t researched whether co-sleeping was good or bad. I didn’t Google what age is appropriate for co-sleeping. I was simply figuring out, hour by hour, how to keep both myself and my baby alive and functioning.

Fast-forward to baby number two. By then, I had heard rumblings of debate. I had read about sleeping safely with babe and about co-sleeping positions that minimized risk. I had even heard arguments about why co-sleeping is considered dangerous. And yet, in the moment, I leaned into what felt right for us. I still carried an internal compass—guided by my own experience and supported by data—but I also adapted to this unique child. Because parenting isn’t a formula.

Then came baby number three—unexpected, but deeply loved. And this time, the co-sleeping debate felt different. In 2025, as an “older” parent, post-C-section with a catheter and compression socks, I faced a level of judgment I hadn’t seen before. Night nurses gently (or not-so-gently) reminded me of the risks of sharing a bed with a newborn. But no one asked why I was choosing it. No one asked about the barriers I faced: recovering from surgery, managing pain, and trying not to wake my sleeping infant while navigating an air-compressed mattress.

That first night, I did the loop: nurse, burp, swaddle, rock, stealthy cot placement—baby alarm triggered! (ugh)—start again. From 1 AM to 4 AM. Then finally, two glorious hours of sleep together. It wasn’t perfect. But it was what survival looked like.

Interestingly, this third baby offered a pivot point. He took to the crib so naturally. After a week of co-sleeping, we found our groove with a hybrid arrangement—crib sleep with occasional cuddles. And I have to admit, my concerns had shifted. This time, I Googled things like how to co-sleep with baby and safe sleep positions with infant not just for my child’s safety, but for my own aging joints and cautious instincts.

The Other Side of the Blanket

But co-sleeping isn’t everyone’s experience—or preference. Many parents choose to sleep separately from their children from day one. Some swear by crib sleeping with a newborn, some prefer bassinets placed safely beside the bed, and others set their child up in a full nursery from the start. These decisions aren’t made lightly—they’re grounded in love, safety, and individual needs.

There are families who never sleep with babe, and feel that separate sleep fosters better rest, emotional boundaries, and safer habits. Some parents feel more confident putting babe down in a firm, safe cot or baby bed, and know their child will stay secure throughout the night. Others worry about sleep dependency or transitioning later from shared sleeping arrangements to solo sleep—especially as questions arise like Is it normal to co-sleep with a 10-year-old? or Should a 12-year-old still sleep with parents?

And then there are the more nuanced realities: some children sleep better solo. Some parents sleep better solo. And some caregivers—especially those navigating mental health recovery, traumatic births, or chronic conditions—need sleep environments that minimize risk or optimize independence. Choosing not to co-sleep isn’t a rejection of closeness—it can be an embrace of well-being.

Sleep Is Not One-Size-Fits-All

Now I wonder—what changed from 2014 to 2025? Is it less socially acceptable to co-sleep with your toddler now than it was then? Is there really one answer to when co-sleeping is appropriate?

For me, co-sleeping looked different with each child. Not better. Not worse. Just ours. But I also respect that what’s safe and sustainable for one family—crib, cot, bassinet, or bed—is completely different for another.

So I invite you to weigh in—whether your experience involves sleeping with baby, placing your infant in a separate sleep space, or navigating the emotions and logistics of toddler and older child sleep. Were you met with support, or judgment? Did you feel peace in solo sleep, or comfort in shared rest?

And hey, if sleep debates aren’t where your head’s at tonight, there’s always the diaper showdown: Pampers, Huggies, or the sleeper hit brand I haven’t discovered yet? Leave your thoughts in the comments.