Mika and I have had Lyla home for 8 weeks now—and what a whirlwind it’s been. The days are long, the nights are longer, but somehow we’re making it through. We’ve had to lean on each other in ways we never have before, figuring out how to navigate the growing pains of parenthood one hour at a time.

Firstly, we know we’re lucky. Lyla is a great baby. Truly. She doesn’t cry much, and when she does, she settles quickly. But even with a calm baby, the relentless 3-hour cycle of change, feed, play, sleep can grind you down like waves against the shore. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also exhausting.

I’ve been fortunate enough to be on paternity leave during these early weeks, and Mika hadn’t yet returned to work when we brought Lyla home. That alone has been a massive advantage—having both of us home meant we could tag-team the newborn phase, test out what worked for us, and support each other when one of us hit a wall. And believe me, the wall comes.

Routine #1: Sleep When You Can

This was our raw, survival-mode strategy. When we first got home, my priority was giving Mika as much downtime and recovery space as possible. I slept when the baby slept and took on the bulk of the heavy lifting—diapers, burping, rocking, midnight pacing. Mika had a remarkably speedy recovery, which helped, but those early days were still a blur.

The “sleep when you can” approach didn’t include much structure. One of us would crash on the couch when the other was on duty, and we swapped when needed. It worked… until it didn’t. The unpredictability took a toll on both of us. There were moments of deep fatigue and frayed nerves. Looking back, it only worked because I was home full-time. If I had to be back at work, Mika would’ve shouldered the night feedings and chaos alone—and that’s a daunting thought. We count our blessings every day.

Routine #2: The Alternating Night Shift

Once we had a bit of footing, we tried taking turns with a more traditional “you sleep, I don’t” setup. We alternated nights where one of us would do the full overnight shift while the other got a full night of rest. In theory, it sounded great. In reality, it was hit-or-miss.

The problem wasn’t taking the shift—it was recovering from it. You’d spend your night bleary-eyed, bouncing a baby in the dark, then try to nap during the day while the world kept turning. Groceries needed getting. Dishes piled up. And if your body didn’t feel like sleeping when it was “your turn,” you were out of luck. Plus, around this time, Mika started a new remote job, which meant she needed structure, mental clarity, and consistent sleep. Our system needed an upgrade.

Routine #3: The Night Owl Parent

So we tried something different. This is our current rhythm, and so far, it works the best. I’ve taken on the night shift.

Here’s how it goes: Mika wakes up early and starts her workday. I stay up through the night with Lyla, and when the baby’s down for her first nap of the morning, I head off to bed. Mika takes over during her breaks or while Lyla naps, and I get my sleep in during the late morning and early afternoon. Once Mika is done with work, I’m rested and we reconvene as a family.

This setup has its perks. Mika gets solid, uninterrupted sleep at night—crucial for her job and well-being. I get some quiet hours to myself in the middle of the night (which, surprisingly, I’ve come to appreciate). And Lyla is cared for around the clock by an alert and well-rested parent.

But it’s not all perfect. We barely see each other. Our time together is often limited to the in-between hours—early evening dinners, quick chats in the hallway, exchanging notes on diapers and bottles like coworkers at a shift change. Going to bed alone is hard. Waking up without the other next to you is harder. We’re parenting on staggered shifts, and while it’s functional, it can feel lonely.

Looking Ahead

We’re now trying to gradually shift back to a shared bedtime routine in preparation for my return to work (unless I hit the lottery between now and then—which, trust me, would solve a lot). But Lyla has grown attached to her nighttime routine, and breaking that may prove more difficult than expected.

Still, this phase won’t last forever. Every baby grows. Every routine eventually breaks. And every parent learns to adapt. We’re learning as we go, and while we’re far from experts, we’re finding what works for us. It’s messy. It’s exhausting. It’s beautiful.

The newborn trenches are deep, but we’re climbing out—together.