I sold Lil Bro’s nursery furniture on Craigslist, and
looking at the empty room is making me sad. My sadness seems a little irrational,
seeing that he never really utilized that room. Sure, we called it his room,
and his clothes were even folded neatly in the dresser, but he never, not once,
slept overnight in that crib. He never played alone in there. He never made it
his own. Somehow he managed to wiggle his way into the bed between Hubby and I
every night. For 3 years.
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| Where exactly am I supposed to sleep? |
Admittedly, I wasn’t opposed to co-sleeping, at least not
initially. Actually, because I breastfed, it was easier in the beginning. There
was no getting up in the middle of the night to shush a crying baby, or to
nurse him, or to check to make sure he was breathing (as moms tend to do). He was right there in
the middle, so close that I could feel each breath. But after a while I began
to feel like I was never alone (I was also pro baby wearing so during the day
he was on me pretty much 24/7 as well). He and I were together so much that
when I finally did attempt to put him in his own crib he opposed it with a cry
so pitiful that Hubby intervened and decreed that we could wait a while longer.
A couple weeks turned into a couple months. I realized that transitioning Lil Bro from our bed would be a solo effort because he had won his father over. As it stood, both Lil Bro and Hubby were content with the sleeping arrangements.
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| The first night sharing a room and Lil Bro slept in a bed alone. |
I weaned
my son at 14 months because I wanted him out of our bed. I reasoned that if I didn't supply him milk all night he might be more inclined to sleep in his own space. It didn’t work. Instead
of nursing, my son would scoot as close as he could my body, pry his tiny fingers
under my arms and bore at my skin in an attempt to get even closer. He made
sure he was constantly scratching and wiggling closer and closer, just in case
I made an attempt to get an inch of space between us. As time went on he grew bigger, and there was less space in the bed. His intrusive behavior evolved into nighttime acrobatics. I was sure to wake up every morning with a foot in my face, regardless of how many time I readjusted him throughout the night. It was like his foot was drawn to my face like a magnet. Again, he didn’t leave
our bed until he was 3 years old.
So you see how irrational my sadness seems. But I can’t help it. I’m sad because I bought
a really expensive nursery set that pretty much sat on display in a room that
was never really used. I’m sad because there are no more babies in this house,
and although it’s been 4 long years since I had my last baby, it’s only been 4
years. My children are all 4 years apart, and I guess it’s just now hitting
me that there are no more babies to be had. I’ve never been at this stage before;
this is uncharted territory for me. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’ve
actually gotten used to having a baby every 4 years. So I guess I’m sad because
I’m finished with that chapter of my life-- pregnancy and giving birth are in the past for me. That's what I know. That's what I'm used to. I guess I'm a little uneasy about what comes next for us. Anyone else feel these conflicted feelings once their family size was set?
