How Katherine Ryan Helped Me Stop Trying to Fix My Child’s Sleep

We don’t always notice how much we’re trying to control things until we hear someone who has stopped fighting it.

I was listening to Catherine Ryan talk about her babies and sleep and she said, very simply, “I'm in a season where I get interrupted sleep and I have babies in my bed, and that's ok”

It wasn’t advice. It wasn’t a method. It was just acceptance. And something about that really stayed with me.

It wasn’t that anything about my son changed in that moment. He still wakes in the night. He’s nearly five. That part stayed the same. What shifted was hearing her say her child was the same age and still waking too. That was incredibly comforting for my sleep anxiety. It took away this quiet belief I’d been carrying that something was wrong or that we were the only ones still in this place.

What’s funny is once that part of my brain was activated, I started hearing it everywhere. Other mums talking about their kids climbing into their beds. Friends admitting they’re too tired to take them back. Parents quietly saying, “It’s just easier this way.” And suddenly it didn’t feel like a problem to solve. It felt like something so many of us are living, we just don’t always say out loud.

It made me realise something as a therapist I already know but even though I help people with this every days its so easy to forget. How isolating our thoughts can be, we assume everyone else has moved on, figured it out, cracked the code. But actually, a lot of us are just doing what works at 2am, choosing rest over another battle, and trusting that this phase will pass in its own time like they all do.

I Wasn’t Trying to Fix Sleep. I Was Trying to Fix Control.

Looking back, I can see that I wasn’t really trying to fix my child’s sleep. I was trying to fix my own sense of control. I was in constant problem-solving mode. Sleep plans, routines, research, ChatGPT schedules, always thinking that if I just found the right approach, everything would settle. It felt responsible. It felt proactive. But underneath it, there was anxiety and a quiet panic that I was getting something wrong.

When my husband said, “Maybe it’s just not working,” I got really angry. Not because he was being unkind, but because it touched the part of me that already felt out of control. Trying was how I was coping. It was how my nervous system was trying to feel safe. When things feel unpredictable, our brain looks for action. Plans and fixes give us a sense of control, even if they also exhaust us.

That’s such a normal response. It isn’t about being stubborn, it’s about wanting relief coping with sleep deprivation is one of the worst parts of parenting. If I can fix this, I can relax. If I can control this, I can feel calmer.

What’s interesting is that now I’ve let go, the roles have flipped. He’s the one who wants to try again. And I’ve said, calmly, “This is our season. If you want him out of our bed, that’s your job.”

Because I’m no longer carrying the responsibility alone, and that feels far more regulating than any sleep plan ever did.

The Thought Spiral Is What Makes Parenting Feel Heavier

Poor sleep is Horrendous- Sleep deprivation is used as a form of torture. It affects your body, your patience, your mood, and your ability to think clearly. But what often makes it unbearable is the story our mind builds around it.

The spiral usually sounds something like this:

• This shouldn’t still be happening. What if it never ends?

• What does this say about me?

• Why can other people cope better than I can?

• Why do other peoples kids sleep?

As a therapist, I see this all the time. It’s rarely just the situation that overwhelms us, it’s what our mind makes it mean. And even knowing that, I still got pulled into it myself.

And it made me realise this isn’t really about sleep at all. Sleep is just where it shows up. It’s about how hard it is to sit with uncertainty, discomfort, and feelings we can’t fix straight away. It’s about what happens when something feels out of our control and we don’t know how long it’s going to last.

There’s a big difference between understanding thought spirals in theory and being in the middle of one at 3am, when you’re tired, emotional, and just wanting things to feel easier.

I also want to say this because I think it really matters. For some kids, sleep training works really well. I’ve seen it work and I’ve lived it. I have one child who slept 7–7 from ten weeks old. So I know that version of parenting too.

And then I have my five-year-old, who only really slept through for the years he shared a room with his sister. Now she has her own room and it honestly feels like we’re back to square one. Same parents. Same home. Same routines. Totally different experience.

Which has been such a reminder that this isn’t about getting it right or wrong. Sometimes it’s not about the method at all. It’s just about the child, the stage they’re in, and how much we try to make sense of something that doesn’t always have a neat explanation.

Katherine didn’t give me advice. She wasn’t trying to. She was just talking about how she parents, in that honest, unapologetic way she does. But something in what she said really stayed with me. It wasn’t another strategy or a sleep philosophy. It wasn’t another sleep plan—which, honestly, I was drowning in. I couldn’t stick to them because I was too tired, and they were turning me into a shouty mum when I pride myself on being calm. What she gave me was permission. This is the season. This is how it looks right now. And that’s okay.

And that kind of calm is surprisingly regulating. It tells your body that nothing is broken and you don’t need to rush to fix everything. I felt like I could finally let go of that tight grip.

Around the same time, I heard someone on Paul C. Brunson’s podcast share their co-sleeping experience. What struck me was that once I’d changed my mindset, my brain was primed to notice the good. He said he never planned on co-sleeping, and then one day, it just happened. Later, he found himself missing it when it was over. That stayed with me, because we often put so much pressure on sticking to decisions we made before. But motherhood isn’t static. Our children change, and we change. Being responsive to what’s actually happening matters more than sticking rigidly to old plans.

My son still comes into my bed. The nights are still broken. But now I also notice the tenderness—his hand on my face, the safety he feels. Yes, it’s uncomfortable, but it’s also deeply human. Both can exist together.

And surprisingly, I started sleeping better—something I never thought possible with him still in my bed. Sometimes we swap and go to his bed, or I’ll top and tail. Letting go of the pressure gave me back my calm and some rest. My body wasn’t flooded with cortisol, anticipating another bad night or feeling resentful when I was the only one who could settle him. Now, I’m resting, too—and that has made all the difference.

When we’re in fight-or-flight mode, the decisions we make are rarely helpful. So, if you’re feeling that constant stress, it might be worth stepping back. I’m not saying give up on change if you really need it, but maybe allow yourself a break. When you’re calmer, your next step will be clearer and it’ll likely feel more doable for everyone involved.

If you’ve been stuck in that cycle of spiraling thoughts or feeling like you’re constantly in fight-or-flight, you don’t have to figure it all out alone. In my work with mums, we explore ways to manage those difficult feelings, find practical tools, and move through these seasons with more self-compassion. If you’re ready for support, I’d love to help.