After a whole bunch of feet dragging on my part, […]
After a whole bunch of feet dragging on my part, Bea has officially moved into her nursery.
Before she came along, I bought a bassinet for practical purposes. I planned on keeping her in our room until she was down to two feedings a night to minimize my late-night treks upstairs. Then we got lucky and hit the sleepy baby jackpot, and after a couple of short weeks my self-imposed deadline for moving Bea to the nursery came and went.
Andy was ready. Georgia (our considerate yet sleep-loving pup) was ready. Bea was probably ready, too. I just couldn’t stomach the idea of her being so far away.
At six weeks Andy was quick to remind me that “so far away” is actually just up a flight of stairs in a room directly above ours—a room we’d spent months prepping for Bea’s arrival. He was right, of course, but the thought of it made me all anxious and teary-eyed. When I suggested we meet in the middle and install a fireman’s pole between our rooms, he reluctantly agreed to let her stay bedside a little longer.
I can see why everyone was ready to go their separate ways at bedtime. Honestly, Bea isn’t the best roommate … in fact, she’s kind-of like an old drunk: She grunts and cries, has long bouts of loud, squeaky hiccups, and frequently spits up all over the place. But she’s also snuggly and adorable and, technically speaking, we’ve been sleeping together for months (those hiccups kept me awake for what felt like my entire last trimester!). I’ve gotten used to—even fond of—her nighttime quirks. Plus, I love being able to reach into her bassinet to check on her or quickly pull her into my bed for a cuddle. And not to get all mushy and weird, but waking up to her happy little coos is like sunshine and Christmas and puppy kisses and homemade bread all rolled up into one tiny blue-eyed bundle. Who would want to give up that?
But eight weeks came along and it was clear that it was time. The logistics of having a newborn in our room became challenging. Our evening conversations were reduced to sign language and whispers, and turning on the lights was completely out of the question. Once we all blindly stumbled into bed, the four sleeping things in our room then took turns waking up the others. I’m fairly certain no one was ever asleep at the same time.
Still, putting her in the crib that first night was hard. I thought Bea may be equally distraught about the separation…she wasn’t. She slept six hours straight. I would have been upset about it, but I slept for six hours too. I guess a good night’s rest can fix anything—even my crazy case of cribaphobia.