Fatherhood Without Sleep: The Truth No One Talks About
Section 1: The Shock of Sleep Deprivation
When you become a father of twins, nobody really prepares you for the kind of sleep deprivation that you face. I had read it before, heard jokes about it, even mentally tried to brace myself for it — but when it started, it shook me in a way I can’t endure.
There were nights when both babies would wake up crying in turns. Just when one would sleep, the other would start crying. It felt like sleep was being rationed in minutes, not hours. My eyes would burn, my head would ache, and still I had to function — as a husband, as a son, as a man trying to fix his life
Some mornings, I couldn’t even recall when or how I had fallen asleep. I would be sitting in my OPD, and when there were fewer patients, I’d unknowingly doze off — sitting upright, with pen in my hand. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion only; it was like my body was quietly protesting, grabbing rest wherever it could. My eyelids felt heavy, and my brain would often lag even in simple conversations. Sometimes, the staff would gently wake me up when a patient arrived, and we’d exchange awkward smiles — no one said anything, but I knew they understood. I had never imagined that fatherhood could shake me to this extent — not with emotion, but with brutal fatigue.
There were nights when my wife and I barely exchanged words, not out of anger but out of sheer fatigue. Communication turned into quick glances. We whispered instructions in the dark. Our love was not in romantic gestures anymore—it was in who picked up the crying baby and who changed the fourth diaper in a row.
Sleep literally became currency, and every ten-minute nap felt like gold. But even in the middle of this madness, I started discovering a strange kind of strength I never knew existed. Not dramatic or heroic—but quiet, stubborn, and born from love.
Section 2: Why I Decided to Manage My Sleep
The breaking point came quietly, just a blur of exhaustion and a moment of helplessness.
One day, I had to postpone an important eye procedure because I just couldn’t see clearly through the microscope. My eyes were aching, my focus was gone, and no amount of effort could force clarity into my vision. It wasn’t just any procedure — it was a retinal surgery, delicate and demanding. But I knew in that moment that pushing through would risk the patient’s safety. So, I made the hard call to reschedule. That was the day it really hit me — this wasn’t just about being tired anymore. Sleep deprivation had started affecting the very hands I rely on to heal.
Another night, I was bottle-feeding my baby boy. I was half-asleep, sitting upright on the bed, cradling him in my arms. The next thing I remember, I had dozed off with him still in my lap. I woke up to his crying—he had vomited. I can’t explain the guilt and fear that ran through me. What if it had been worse? That night shook me. I realised: if I don’t manage my sleep, I’m not only risking my career—I’m risking the safety of my children.
This wasn’t just about being tired. This was about being dangerously unprepared for the two most important roles in my life—a surgeon and a father.
That’s when I decided: Sleep is not optional. It’s non-negotiable.
It’s not a luxury to catch up on when the kids nap—it’s a responsibility. A discipline.
In the next section, I’ll share the practical hacks that helped me—things that didn’t need a miracle, just a bit of structure, a few honest decisions, and a willingness to accept that I’m human too.
Section 3: What Actually Helped Me Sleep Better
Let’s be real — no “hack” can magically give a twin parent 8 hours of deep, undisturbed sleep. That phase literally doesn’t exist. But I did find a few powerful adjustments that helped me survive the storm… and slowly start to recover.
1. Fixing My Food Timing
One big shift was food. I made a rule: No eating after 6 PM. Initially, it was hard. I used to binge late at night, thinking it helped me relax. But actually, it would mess with my digestion and keep my sleep restless.
When I stopped eating early, my sleep became deeper. My body wasn’t working overtime to digest food — it was finally resting. This one change gave me better quality sleep even if the quantity was still short. Managing my plate was the central crux in my sleep management
2. No Phone in Bed
Scrolling Instagram or YouTube at night used to feel like “Me time.” But it was killing my ability to fall asleep quickly.
Now, I park my phone away before bedtime. I still fail some nights — I’m human — but most of the days I stick to this. This would calm down my mind faster, and I would sleep better.
3. Night Duties Became a Team Game
Initially, we were trying to do everything. Every cry, every bottle, every diaper we both would wake up. One would do all the stuff and the another would give instructions or just started scrolling the phone again. But that was literally turning us into a zombie.
Now, my wife and I have divided the work. She would take care of a baby at night and me the other one. Even a 2-hour block of continuous sleep feels like heaven when you’re used to broken naps.
4. Keeping Bottles and Essentials Ready
We began preparing everything at night — bottles, water, diapers, wipes. When a baby cries at 2 AM, you don’t want to run around. Everything should be within arms distance. Having things ready cut the chaos, and I could go back to sleep faster.
Small step, big impact.
5. Lying Down Whenever Possible
Earlier, I used to push through the day like a machine — thinking rest was a luxury I couldn’t afford. But that mindset broke me. Now, if I get even a 10-minute gap, I just lie down. No guilt. No phone. Just flat on my back, eyes closed.
Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I don’t — but even that short stillness resets my body. It’s not laziness. It’s survival.
Section 4: My Current Relationship with Sleep
Sleep and I may not be the best friends, but we are no longer strangers
We’ve reached a quiet understanding — like two people who fought bitterly for months but now nod respectfully at each other in the hallway.
I don’t sleep like before. Not in duration, not in peace. But the desperation has faded. The resentment is gone. Now, I sleep when I can — and I make it count.
There are still nights when both babies cry one after the other, when the bottles leak, when my legs ache from rocking one baby for too long. On those nights, sleep is like a guest who rings the bell but never enters.
But there are other nights — short, broken, but calm. Nights when the bottles are ready, the phone is silent, and I eat my dinner by 6. On those nights, I get 4-5 hours of real, healing sleep (though not continuous). And I wake up with a little more strength to be a better father, a better man.
I’ve stopped chasing “perfect sleep.” That’s a fantasy.
Instead, I’ve started respecting sleep — creating space for it, preparing for it like it’s sacred.
Because now I know — if I don’t rest, I can’t show up fully for my children. And showing up for them is non-negotiable.
Here’s a raw, honest, and emotionally powerful Closing / Call to Action that stays true to the tone and theme of your blog:
Closing: An Invitation to All Sleep-Deprived Fathers
If you’re a new dad — especially of twins — I know what your nights feel like.
The helplessness. The fog. The guilt of losing your temper. The quiet fear of messing up.
I’ve lived those nights. Some still show up, uninvited.
But here’s what I’ve learned: you can reclaim a bit of control. Not over the babies’ erratic routines, not over the chaos — but over your own response to it.
Managing your sleep isn’t just a health goal. It’s about safety. Sanity. And being present — truly present — for the tiny humans who look up to you.
If this post resonated with you, share it with another exhausted dad. Or drop a comment — tell me what your nights look like. Let’s talk about it. You’re not alone.
You don’t have to pretend to be a superhero.
Just be awake. Aware. And willing to try again — even after the worst nights.
In my next blog, I’ll break down each of these sleep-saving hacks — in a way that’s real, practical, and grounded in experience.
No fluff. Just what worked. Until then, let’s keep showing up — even if it’s with sleepy eyes and shaky hands. Because we rise. And we rise together.