My daughter was scared. It was nighttime. “I’m so lonely, Mama,” she sobbed, coming into my room for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“You have to sleep, sweetheart,” I coaxed, guiding her back up the steps once more. But still, she wilted in my arms, a little flower bowing over.

I let her sleep in my bed that night.

Another night, she was unable to sleep. I tried everything — a story, a song, one more kiss, one more hug, just one more, please please please please please?

Finally, I let her sleep in my bed that night.

I think about these times when my daughter is so small in this world, at that tender age when climbing into bed with mama really can heal the little hurts and woes. When the world is scary or frightening, sometimes there’s not a lot we can do to make things better. At least not in the adult world. But on a human level, there is so much. Every small thing counts when things are hard. 

But I have a confession: I do not like sharing my bed. I will do so many good, kind things to help my children and other humans in this world carry on through tough times, but co-sleeping has never worked for me. I wish it did! The idea of snuggling up close like a little family of bunnies, all warm and cozy. Alas! The flailing limbs of my child who cannot stay still, ever, not even in her sleep, like a puppy running after dream squirrels, did me in early on the co-sleeping front.

So when I say I let my daughter sleep in my bed when she was scared, it’s a big deal for me. It meant opening myself up as a person, as a mother, to be more than I thought I could be. It meant pushing aside the discomfort or lack of sleep on my part to give her that thing I think we forget we have the power to gift our children: a safe place to be scared, and a safe place to find the comfort that lets us pick up and keep going. When you’re little, that usually comes from your family. Being a mom is something special, and this might be the most special small thing: being able to set aside one’s own fears, or at least push them down a little, to make room for the child’s fears, which loom just as large to them. 

The world is a scary place. Whether it’s under the bed at night, or the larger news of the day, little ones feel our anxiety too. That’s part of life and reality, but whether or not that’s the case, when they’re scared, they’re scared. When my daughter couldn’t sleep, it was less (I think) about the concerns that keep *me* up at night, and more about things I might write off as less important.

But I let her sleep in my bed just the same. Stinky little kid foot in my face? Sometimes. Sweaty little kid body rolling into mine? Often, yes. But it didn’t matter, really. What mattered was that I was a safe haven for her fears, however big or small.

Comfort for the small things signals comfort that’s available for the big things, too. The sound of her snuffly breathing, again like a puppy, might have kept me awake, but a small smile played on my lips as I stared up at the ceiling in the dark, listening to her drift off, finally content, finally comforted, feeling safe. 

There’s only so long we can offer that gift of safety and comfort. Even though co-sleeping long-term isn’t for me, when I do it, I never, ever regret it.