“Don’t let this easy baby fool you. Most babies don’t sleep 8 hours through the night at 10 weeks old.”

Ah, those famous last words. I replayed them at 2 a.m. many months later—baby C and I both crying in the rocker, wondering how things had gone so sideways. We’d tried everything:

• Self-soothing
• Cry it out
• Rock ’n Play (before it got banned, thanks for that)
• Lavender oil massages
• Quiet nighttime routines
• Reflux meds
• Every swaddle on Amazon
• Mattress inclines that would make a chiropractor sweat

You name it—I was desperate enough to try it. I read every blog post and book by every so-called “baby whisperer” who insisted that any baby could sleep through the night if you just did all the right things. Spoiler alert: they were full of it.

My mom was right. I didn’t appreciate how good I had it early on, and karma had me rocking back and forth—emotionally and literally.

Cries, Formula, and a Milk Mystery

C struggled. I struggled. Sleep was something other people got.

Looking back (hindsight being 20/20 and powered by caffeine), I realize she was telling me what was wrong—I just couldn’t decode it through the fog of exhaustion. What she was trying to say was:

“Mom, my tummy hates dairy.”

We had run through the entire formula aisle. Nothing helped. At 9 months old, I started to suspect that dairy might be the culprit. She’d begun eating solids and—lo and behold—her soul-crushing, red-faced wails started to fade.

At her 9-month checkup, I suggested switching to soy or almond milk. The pediatrician looked at me like I had asked if she could live on fruit snacks and hope. “That’s not nutritionally sound,” they said. “She needs formula.” So we trudged on… for two more miserable months.

Finally, I ignored the advice, trusted my gut, and gave it a shot.

Game. Changer.

We switched to almond milk. The constant spit-up (which the doctor had cheerfully dismissed as a “laundry problem”) disappeared almost overnight. She was comfortable. I was doing fewer loads of laundry. Everyone won.

The Sleep That Still Didn’t Come

C was about 15 months old before she occasionally slept through the night. I remember standing at the office coffee machine one morning, listening to a coworker casually state, “Humans really need 8 hours of sleep to function,” and seriously contemplating pouring my coffee on his smug, well-rested head.

We’d solved the reflux. But the 2 a.m. parties? Still happening. So back we went to the parenting sleep playbook:

• Let them cry (but not too long)
• Pat them, but don’t pick them up
• Sit in the chair and inch your way out like a ninja
• Rock them to sleep and then attempt the lay-them-down-without-waking-them maneuver (aka the parental Olympics)

No matter the method, the night usually ended in the same place: me, C, and that damn rocker.

Nightmares, Talking, and Very Important Questions

As she got older, the nightmares started. Screams in the night would jolt me awake, only to discover that this terror was brought to us by… a bad dream about mismatched hair bows. Another time, it was a Scooby-Doo episode. Classic.

At five years old, she still crawled into our bed four to five nights a week. Getting her to fall asleep? Slightly easier, but no less eventful. The bedtime routine required:

• Two stories
• Five return trips to fix the blankets
• Three kisses
• One very important question about the color of the sky
• A sip of water
• Light on, then off, then maybe dimmed?
• And a final plea: “Mommy, don’t go downstairs. Just be upstairs, okay?”

An hour later, she’d be asleep. If she woke up in the night, she’d come whisper in my face like a tiny ghost to let me know she was awake and needed help going back down.

At 10 Years Old… Still Not a Sleep Prodigy

She still struggles. Bedtime now includes one or two callbacks, and if she wakes up at night, she’ll come find me for a tuck-in and a hug.

And you know what? That’s okay.

What Sleep (and Perspective) Taught Me

After a decade of midnight snuggles, spit-up stains, and sleep regressions, here’s what I’ve learned:

• Your gut isn’t always right—but it’s not always wrong either. Sometimes, it’s okay to try the weird thing if nothing else is working. (Looking at you, almond milk.)
• Being alone is scary when you’re little. No essential oil can replace your presence. You are their safe space.
• They don’t go to college still sleeping in your bed. Those extra snuggles won’t last forever—take them while you can.
• Every kid is different. Anyone who acts like they’ve got this parenting thing 100% figured out is either lying or hasn’t been tested yet.
• You do you. Ignore the noise, trust your instincts, and do what works for your family.

Final Ramblings….

So if your baby doesn’t sleep through the night at 10 weeks—or 10 months—or even 10 years—you’re not alone. Sometimes sleep is a journey, not a milestone. And sometimes the only thing that gets you through it is a rocker, a little rebellion, and a lot of coffee.

Hang in there, tired parent. You’re doing just fine.