18 month sleep regression

My youngest is now 18 months old, and the separation anxiety is really starting to set in. She’s officially in the 18-month sleep regression, and it’s taking a toll on my 40-year-old body.

Unlike her siblings, she has always been the baby I could put down in her crib and she’d fall asleep on her own. She never liked being rocked, so the glider chair that took up way too much space was basically useless. She wasn’t a “rock me to sleep” baby—she was a “stand and sway with me” baby or a “put me down and I’ll fall asleep on my own” baby.

But this past week, something changed. She has decided that she does not want to be set in her crib. If I lay her down, she stays calm for about 20 seconds…and then unleashes this ear-piercing wail that only she has. My other two cried, but nothing like this. Her screams feel like they could pop an eardrum.

She’s never been a snuggly, cuddly baby, even though she was a Velcro baby. I couldn’t put her down without that same wail unless she was asleep—until she could sit on her own. It wasn’t that she wanted to be held; she wanted to be upright, involved, watching the world. And once she could sit by herself, she wasn’t thrilled about being held much at all.

Fast forward to walking and climbing, and now she’ll ask to be picked up only to want to be put back down ten seconds later. Even when I can get her to sit with me, she rarely stays long enough to read even the shortest book.

So here we are: separation anxiety + poor sleep = a nightmare combination. She doesn’t want to be held to sleep, but she also doesn’t want to sleep alone. I’ve tried putting her in bed with her siblings long enough to fall asleep, but that turned into playtime. I’ve tried letting her lay next to me; also playtime. Sometimes she’ll lie on my chest, but more often than not it’s up-down-up-down on repeat.

The only thing that consistently works is my hand on her chest. But bending over the crib wrecks my back, and I can only stay like that for a minute or two—not long enough for her to fall fully asleep.

Last night she woke up crying again while I was in the middle of wrapping Christmas presents. I spent 40 minutes cuddling her, trying desperately to help her fall asleep, but all she wanted to do was stare at me and play. I finally put her down and let her cry for a few minutes while I went downstairs to clean up. Her scream woke both her brother and her father. When he came downstairs to check on us, I was so overwhelmed that I just snapped, yelling about how she refused to go to sleep and how she was just going to have to cry for a bit.

After I finished picking up, I went back upstairs, cuddled her, and eventually got her back to sleep. An hour and a half had passed. I refused to bring her to my bed—not because I don’t love her, but because neither of us actually sleeps when she’s in there. She wakes every 45 minutes kicking or whining, and we both end up exhausted. So back to her crib she went, where she truly does sleep better.

I’ve always been big on safe sleep. My biggest fear has always been SIDS. I didn’t co-sleep with any of my kids before 18 months, except with my youngest, she started occasionally sleeping in our bed at 6 months when she was sick and had a very difficult time sleeping. Even now, she only sleeps with us when she’s sick or needs the extra comfort. Most nights, she genuinely sleeps best in her own crib.

This 18-month sleep regression will pass—eventually. I just want it to pass without new habits like being held to sleep or relying on my bed. I rocked my oldest until he got too big. Same with my middle child. And now at 6.5 and 4.5, they still struggle to sleep alone. They no longer sleep in our bed, but they share a room because they’re too scared to sleep solo.

I know this is a phase. I know one day they won’t want me and their dad the way they do now. I soak it up—I really do—while still trying to build strong foundations for healthy sleep. They go to bed in their beds, and if they wake up, they know they can climb into ours. It’s our normal for now.

And I’m choosing to be grateful for the love, even in the exhaustion, because this season is painfully short and heartbreakingly sweet.