I Didn’t Know What I Was Doing Then – I Do Now

Back in 2002, when I was pregnant with my daughter, sleep deprivation wasn’t an option. I simply didn’t function on just a few hours of broken sleep—it made me physically sick. I needed to get a full night’s rest, or at least something close to it, most nights. But how?

Google was still new then, but it had content—even back then. I started searching for ways to avoid sleep deprivation while parenting a newborn. That’s when I found attachment parenting. Dr. Sears was talking about co-sleeping, and after a little reading, I realized this could be my way around the exhaustion. I knew co-sleeping was normal in many places around the world—North America was the exception, not the rule. So, I decided I was going to co-sleep. After more reading to figure out how to do it safely, I set off on my co-sleeping journey.

Attachment parenting introduced me to extended breastfeeding, too. Co-sleeping and breastfeeding meant I didn’t have to get up at night to make bottles or fuss with anything. I could sleep topless, just roll over, stick a boob in my daughter’s mouth, and go right back to sleep. Brilliant. Another problem solved.

I was still pregnant at this point, though, so the question was: would my plans actually work?

Sitting here today, my daughter now 22, I can say confidently that they did.

Co-sleeping wasn’t widely accepted back then. At the hospital, I got some pushback from the nurses because I wasn’t willing to just let my daughter cry in the bassinet, nor was I willing to stay up all night comforting her alone. I wanted to sleep with her—and I did, despite their judgment.

Fortunately, I was only in the hospital for a couple of days before bringing her home. I set up the bassinet as an extension of the bed, with one side pushed against the wall, and we both fell asleep nursing. I got a full night’s rest, and she was content. That was all that mattered.

My daughter, especially as a small child, was extremely clingy. She didn’t want a stroller—she wanted to be carried. Thank goodness baby-wearing and carriers were becoming popular. The crib I bought collected dust and became a very good laundry basket. The stroller sat empty. She wanted nothing to do with either.

I honored her clingy nature. I gave her all the attention she wanted. I didn’t worry about spoiling her. I didn’t worry that we’d still be sleeping together at 22 (we’re not). I just knew I needed to give her what she needed—and that meant allowing her to be clingy until she didn’t need to be anymore.

As it turned out, she slept with me until I became pregnant with my son in 2009. At that point, I explained— as much as a six-year-old can understand— that she was going to have a little brother or sister, and she needed to make room for the baby, because I planned to do the same with them that I had done with her. She understood, and we worked on moving her into her own bed. I started with a mattress on the floor in my room and slowly moved it through the house until she was sleeping in her own room.

With my son, I began the exact same process of nursing and co-sleeping. But he wasn’t clingy like my daughter. He quickly transitioned into a crib. To be honest, I wasn’t even going to buy a crib since my daughter’s had sat unused—but that’s what he wanted, so I gave it to him.

Unlike my daughter, he wanted the stroller. He wanted to face outward and see the world. He wanted nothing to do with a baby carrier—and actually wanted to be pushed in the stroller long after he’d outgrown it.

Two completely different children, with two completely different needs—both honored using the same strategies, adapted to each child.

The only thing that stayed the same between my two kids was that I nursed them both for 3.5 years each. Yes—they were almost four when I weaned them. They were eating regular meals and on solid food. My daughter never saw a bottle; she moved straight to sippy cups of milk. My son did see a bottle—I pumped a bit for him because I worked a little when he was around six months old. He solved that by reverse cycling, which meant most of his nursing happened at night—co-sleeping for the win. But by around a year old, he was drinking cow’s milk from sippy cups just like his sister.

Nursing a toddler isn’t the same as nursing an infant. They nurse when you come in the door. They nurse before bed. Maybe in the morning before you leave for work—but that’s it. That’s all the nursing there is.

What do they get from that? A nutrition boost during the toddler picky-eater phase. Immune support from my body. But mostly, it’s comfort. It’s a reconnection, a knowing that mom is there and the relationship is still solid. It helps when they don’t feel well, or when they’re overstimulated. It makes moving through those toddler years much easier than usual.

Would I do it again if I were to have another child?

In a heartbeat.

There’s so much noise out there about sleep-training, not spoiling, and self-soothing. While these things are sold as good ideas, what they often create is disconnection. What’s fascinating is how many parents spend those early years pushing for independence in a child who isn’t ready—only to panic when that independence shows up full force in the teenage years. They spend childhood laying the tracks, then try to derail the train when it starts to move. But when you build connection first—real, steady, nervous-system-deep connection—independence doesn’t need to be forced. It comes on its own. And when it does, it’s not rebellion. It’s maturity.

I haven’t had rules in years. My kids are 15 and 22 now. They don’t swear. They don’t drink. They’re not out late. My daughter only started dating in the last year. They don’t have attitude issues. They don’t do any of the things other parents seem to struggle with.

Why?

Because I didn’t force independence on them before they were ready. My belief is simple: when a child doesn’t have to defend their need for closeness, they eventually choose independence on their own. And when that choice is theirs, it comes from maturity—not rebellion.

Not all children are the same. Their needs won’t be the same. Some will cling, some will push away. Some will want the stroller. Some will want your arms. But there is one thing that’s the same across every child: they want to know that their parent will honor who they are—not try to shape them into something else.They want to know their needs will be met—not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually, relationally. And meeting those needs isn’t about feeding and clothing them or setting up rules to keep them in line. It’s about giving them the connection they want with you—not the connection you want to have with them.

If we allowed our kids to be clingy…
If we co-slept…
If we didn’t wean from breastfeeding at six months just because some parenting guru said it was time…
If we honored biology instead of fake psychology…

We’d have healthier, happier, more independent children.

It doesn’t mean I did everything right all the time. But I know what I didn’t do: I didn’t buy into the culture that says a one-year-old has to be independent.

They’re not mini adults. They’re children.
And they deserve to be children—while having their needs met by the people who love them.

I did all this before I understood radical freedom, existentialism, or spirituality.
I did all this before I began my own healing journey.
I did all this while I was still insecure and worried about what other people thought.

My rebellion was quiet.

But I live the proof every day—because I have kids who don’t need me to manage their behavior.
They learned how to do it themselves.

Because I honored them as children.
And now, they respect me in return.

Love to all,

Della