"Catnapping Is Normal”… But Is It Sustainable?

If you’ve ever found yourself thinking, everyone says this is normal, but it doesn’t feel okay, this one is for you.

In a recent Baby Bitesize episode of the Thriving Parenting Podcast, I shared a conversation I had with one of my Sleep Godmother clients that landed deeply, because it speaks to a space so many parents quietly sit in. That messy, confusing middle where biologically normal advice doesn’t quite match the reality unfolding in your home.

This mum reached out after her five-month-old had been catnapping for around three weeks. Before this shift, her baby had been managing some really lovely, more consolidated chunks of sleep. Then suddenly, everything changed.

Short naps. Broken sleep. Constant attempts to resettle that almost always ended in tears. Her baby wasn’t waking content after 30 or 45 minutes. Instead, she was unsettled, dysregulated, and struggling to tolerate her awake time before crashing into another short nap. Rinse and repeat, all day long.

To get through the day, mum was adding more and more naps. Four catnaps a day, just to survive. She’d tried all the advice she’d been given. Waiting a little longer. Giving space. Stretching awake times. Supporting sleep through contact. Resettling. None of it was improving things. In fact, it felt like everything was becoming harder.

And of course, when you’re in this space, you Google. You read that catnapping is biologically normal. And here’s the thing. That statement isn’t wrong.

But it also isn’t the whole picture.

When “Normal” Doesn’t Feel Okay

Biological norms are a guide, not a rulebook. They don’t account for individuality. They don’t account for how your baby is coping. And they certainly don’t account for how you are coping.

Some babies are perfectly happy catnappers. They wake content. They tolerate awake time. They generally go down easily. My own second child was like this. She catnapped until around five months, and then things naturally began to lengthen and click into place.

But this baby wasn’t a happy catnapper.

She was crying on waking. She was dysregulated. She was fussy and cranky. She was barely tolerating her awake time. And that’s an important distinction. Because when babies are dysregulated, they don’t need less support. They need more.

They need to borrow our calm. They need to borrow our nervous system, because theirs is still so immature and cannot regulate itself yet.

The problem is, when you’re doing that all day, every day, and you’re not refilling your own cup, something has to give.

This mum was exhausted. Burnt out. Running on empty. And she also had another child to care for. At one point, she said to me, I just don’t know how much more I can do.

She was hesitant to reach out for support because she truly believed she’d already tried everything. Awake times. Contact naps. Resettling. Space. Nothing was working. She couldn’t see what else anyone could possibly suggest.

And this is such a common belief for parents who are stuck in survival mode.

Dysregulation Needs Support, Not Less

One of the biggest misunderstandings around infant sleep is the idea that less support builds more resilience. When a baby is already dysregulated, pulling back support often makes things worse, not better.

What we saw here was a baby who needed more regulation, not more independence. And a mum who needed support just as much as her baby did.

Because parenting was never meant to be a solo gig.

Western culture has taught us that we should be able to do this alone, quietly, efficiently, and without needing help. But that belief doesn’t align with biology, community, or nervous system health.

Small Tweaks, Big Shifts

When we worked together, nothing we did was rigid or extreme. There were no harsh rules or forcing sleep. Instead, we made gentle adjustments around rhythm, regulation, settling support, and expectations. Just as importantly, we supported mum.

And the shift was remarkable.

Within around 24 hours, sleep began consolidating again. Not because we forced it, but because the foundations were already there. This baby started settling more easily with mum’s reassurance. Sleep lengthened naturally. Regulation improved.

It was about working with biology, not against it, and tailoring support to what this baby and this family actually needed.

When she first reached out, she said, I can’t see what you’re going to tell me that I haven’t already tried. And I remember thinking, I can already see where this needs to shift.

Sometimes it’s not about doing more. It’s about doing things differently, with the right lens and the right support.

Just Because It’s Normal Doesn’t Mean It Has to Be Your Normal

This is the piece I want you to really take with you.

Just because something is biologically normal does not mean it has to be your normal.

Every baby is different. Every family is different. And if something feels heavy, relentless, or unsustainable in your home, that matters. That’s your cue to pause and take a closer look.

You are not failing. You are responding.

Sleep is only one part of the story. What matters most is that you and your baby feel safe, held, and supported through it all. There is room for balance. There is room for nuance. And often, the answer lives somewhere in the middle.

If you’re listening or reading this and thinking, this feels like us, please know you don’t have to white-knuckle your way through it just because you’ve been told it’s normal.

Support is allowed.

You are worthy of sleep that feels more easeful, optimised, and safe for everyone involved. And if nothing else lands today, let this one thing land.

You and your baby are allowed to take up space in the messy middle.

There is no rush. Only connection.

Go gently with yourself. Parenting is a lot, and you’re doing it with so much care.