The Justin Bieber Baby Sleep Hack That Would Have Saved My Sanity

It's 3:14 AM on a Tuesday in 2017. I'm wearing hospital-grade mesh underwear and an oversized, stained promotional t-shirt from a local 5K I walked, like, three years ago. I'm sitting on the very edge of our mattress, violently sobbing into my hands because my breast pump is making a rhythmic sound that resembles a dying goose, and my husband, Dave, is doing aggressive, deeply uncoordinated lunges across our bedroom carpet while whisper-singing justin bieber baby lyrics to our newborn.

Literally. He is bouncing and panting and singing "Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh," because he's fundamentally broken as a human being right now. We're both broken. Our four-day-old son, Leo, is screaming so hard his tiny face looks like a squished heirloom tomato, and I'm desperately scrolling through my phone in the dark, my face illuminated by the harsh blue glare of the screen, trying to figure out if you can return a baby to the hospital. You can't, by the way.

Anyway, the point is, I was scrolling Instagram the other day—avoiding folding a mountain of laundry that has been sitting on the armchair so long it's basically a piece of furniture now—and I saw the news. The bieber baby is finally here. I was sipping my third cup of coffee (which was actually yesterday's coffee that I just added ice to, don't judge me) when I saw the announcement about little justin bieber baby jack. And instantly, my brain just rocketed right back to that horrific 3 AM Tuesday.

Not just because Dave was butchering that iconic justin bieber baby song in our darkest hour, but because of a picture Justin posted of their nursery setup. Tucked in the corner of the room was a lamp giving off this deep, moody red glow. And I just stared at it and thought: Oh my god, they know.

Let's talk about the red light thing (and why my iPhone was the actual enemy)

So, back to the crying tomato phase of Leo's life. About a week after the lunge-and-sing incident, I was sitting in my doctor's office. Dr. Gupta is this incredibly patient woman who always looks at me like I'm a slightly feral rescue animal. I was complaining to her that Leo would wake up to eat at 2 AM, and then stay awake, wide-eyed and furious, until the sun came up.

She asked me what the lighting was like in our bedroom. I told her it was pitch black, except for my phone, which I used as a flashlight to find his mouth, and also to google things like "is my baby breathing too fast" and "can babies smell fear."

Dr. Gupta gently suggested that I was basically blasting my newborn with digital daylight. She explained something about melatonin—which is, like, the sleepy hormone in your brain, right?—and how blue light and white light completely destroy it. I got a C in high school biology, so my understanding is super blurry, but basically she said that blue light waves are short and aggressive and they trick your baby's walnut-sized brain into thinking it's time to wake up and party. Red light, on the other hand, has longer wavelengths? I think? Or lower energy? I don't know the exact physics, but she said red light doesn't suppress melatonin. It lets the brain stay in "sleep mode" even while you're doing a diaper change.

If I had just bought a cheap red light bulb instead of using my iPhone flashlight, Dave wouldn't have had to perform a 2010 pop concert in our bedroom. We were sabotaging our own sleep.

Speaking of sleep sabotage, the other thing that ruined our nights was temperature. Leo was a tiny furnace. We'd swaddle him in these heavy synthetic blankets we got at our shower, and he'd wake up sweaty and raging. Or he'd kick them off and wake up freezing and raging. There was a lot of rage. It wasn't until Maya came along three years later that I finally figured out the blanket situation. I'm absolutely obsessed with the Bamboo Baby Blanket in the Universe Pattern from Kianao. Seriously, this thing is my holy grail. Bamboo is naturally temperature-regulating, which means Maya didn't wake up drenched in sweat. Plus, it has these little yellow and orange planets on it that are so cute, and the fabric gets softer every time Maya projectile vomits on it and I've to throw it in the wash. I bought the giant 120x120cm one and she still drags it around the house like a cape.

That whole 'giving yourself grace' postpartum thing

The other thing about this whole Justin Bieber baby situation that actually got me emotional was Hailey talking about her birth experience. She apparently hid her pregnancy for six months just to protect her peace, and then she was super open about how traumatic the birth was. Her water broke early, she had a ridiculously long unmedicated labor, and it just sounded like hell.

My birth plan with Leo was a beautifully formatted, laminated spreadsheet. I had literally chosen a playlist. I had important oils. I wanted to labor in a tub while Dave fed me ice chips and whispered affirmations.

Instead, my water broke in the parking lot of a Target while I was trying to wrestle a pack of toilet paper into the trunk. I labored for 28 hours. The playlist was never turned on because I threatened to bite Dave if he played Bon Iver. I ended up with an emergency C-section, shaking violently from the anesthesia, bleeding through everything I owned. I spent the next six weeks feeling like a complete failure because my body didn't do what the internet told me it was "designed" to do.

Dr. Gupta had to basically stage an intervention at my six-week checkup. I was crying about how my scar hurt and I was still bleeding, and she told me that the "fourth trimester" is a massive physical trauma. She said healing takes months, sometimes a year, and that society expects us to just snap back and wear jeans at week three, which is medically insane. Every day I just had to look in the mirror, look at my leaking boobs and my swollen ankles, and aggressively forgive myself for being a mess.

Forget the perineal foam sprays, honestly just sit on a frozen diaper, it's cheaper and it actually numbs the pain.

Also, during that messy postpartum phase, you go through SO many clothes. If you're looking for basics, the Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit is pretty good. I mean, it's a onesie. It's not going to change your life or do your taxes, but it's really soft organic cotton, which is great because Leo had these weird stress-eczema patches behind his knees. The snaps hold up well to aggressive 4 AM diaper changes when you're legally blind with exhaustion. It catches the blowout crap. It does the job.

If you're also just trying to survive the fourth trimester and want clothes that won't make your baby's skin break out in weird hives, you can browse Kianao's organic clothing collection here. It's one less thing to stress about.

Protecting your peace (and dodging unsolicited advice)

I read somewhere that Justin and Hailey wrote down a list of "family values" before the baby was born. Things like prioritizing rest, keeping their circle small, protecting their mental health.

I laughed so hard when I read that, mostly because Dave and I did absolutely zero preparation for our family dynamic. We just sort of brought Leo home and let the chaos wash over us. My mother-in-law essentially moved into our guest room for two weeks, and while I love her, she had an opinion on EVERYTHING. "Are you sure he's getting enough milk?" "Why is he wearing a hat indoors?" "In my day, we just put a little whiskey on their gums."

I was too tired to set boundaries. I just absorbed all the unsolicited advice and let it fuel my postpartum anxiety. It took me until my second kid, Maya, to realize that you really CAN just tell people to back off. You can just say, "We aren't taking visitors today," and then lock the door and sit on the couch in silence.

Speaking of silence, teething is the enemy of a peaceful house. When Maya started cutting her first teeth, she turned into a rabid little raccoon. She chewed on the coffee table. She chewed on the dog's tail. I bought the Panda Teether Silicone Baby Toy because I was desperate, and honestly, it seriously helped. It's made of food-grade silicone and has these little textured bumps that she would aggressively gnaw on for twenty minutes at a time. The flat shape was easy for her chubby little hands to hold. I just wish I had bought three of them, because I was constantly losing it under the couch cushions and she would scream until I fished it out with a spatula.

Anyway, the whole internet is obsessing over a celebrity baby, but it's weirdly comforting to know that even with millions of dollars and a literal staff of people, they're still up in the middle of the night, staring at a red light bulb, trying to figure out how to keep a tiny, screaming human alive. Motherhood is the great equalizer. You just kind of have to survive the nights, drink your day-old iced coffee, and give yourself a ridiculous amount of grace.

If you're in the thick of it right now, trying to figure out which products are seriously worth your money and which ones are just Instagram hype, go take a look at Kianao's essentials. They genuinely care about the materials touching your kid's skin.

Shop Kianao's Sustainable Baby Essentials Here and save yourself a 3 AM Google spiral.

My Messy FAQ About Surviving the Newborn Chaos

Is the red light thing honestly real or just an internet trend?
Okay, so from what my doctor explained (and what I furiously googled at 4 AM), it's real. Blue light from phones and normal lamps suppresses melatonin, which wakes your baby up fully during night feeds. Red light doesn't mess with their circadian rhythm. So yeah, swap your nursery bulb for a red one. It makes your room look like a weird submarine, but it works.

How do you genuinely enforce boundaries with family after giving birth?
You have to be the villain for a minute. Seriously. Blame your doctor if you've to. I used to say, "My doctor said Leo's immune system needs total isolation this week," which was a total lie, but it kept people out of my living room while I was bleeding and crying. Protect your peace. Let them be mad.

What's the one thing you genuinely need for a newborn's sleep?
Besides the red light, you need a blanket or swaddle that breathes. That bamboo blanket I mentioned saved us. Babies run hot, and when they get sweaty, they wake up angry. Bamboo wicks the moisture away. Ditch the heavy polyester stuff your aunt bought you.

How long does the postpartum healing genuinely take?
Whatever the internet tells you, triple it. They say six weeks for a checkup, but Dr. Gupta told me the "fourth trimester" is real, and my body didn't feel like mine again for almost a year. Your hormones are crashing, your organs are literally shifting back into place. Give yourself a year before you even think about judging your body.

Is organic cotton really worth it for baby clothes?
Honestly, yes, but mostly for the base layers. You don't need organic cotton winter coats, but for the bodysuits that sit directly against their skin 24/7? Yes. Newborn skin is absurdly sensitive, and normal cotton is heavily sprayed with pesticides and chemicals. When Leo had eczema, switching his onesies to organic cotton was the only thing that stopped the redness.