When a mum calls me late at night, it always sounds the same.
Her voice is quiet, because the child next door has finally, finally fallen asleep.
There's a small tremor in it. And then she says the sentence I've heard, almost word for word, over a hundred times:
"Charlotte, I've tried everything. And nothing works."
She means it. By the time a mum calls me, she has usually tried blackout blinds, a Tonie box, magnesium spray, a weighted blanket, a star projector, three different bedtime routines from three different books, a sleep training course, and in the last six months, quietly and guiltily, a melatonin gummy from the cabinet.
She is not making it up. She has done the work. And it hasn't worked.
For the first nine years of my career, I would have answered her with more of the same. A tighter routine. An earlier bedtime.
Strategies I'd been taught in my own training. Some of it helped a bit. Most of it didn't help much.
A year later, the same mum would be back on the phone with the same problem in a slightly different shape.
Then about two years ago, something changed in what I was seeing. And I had to admit I'd been giving the wrong advice.