Tonight is the last night.
Tomorrow we move to a lovely home, where you will have the biggest yard
to play in and woods to frolic and explore with the dog. Where you will have a huge
room to play, and live in, conspire with your friends in. And while I cannot wait until we’re finally
there, I find myself a teeny bit sad about leaving this place—your first home.
When I put you to bed tonight, we sat together in the
rocker, and sang our silly songs. I
remembered a baby just two years ago that I nursed every few hours in those
early days, sitting in the same rocker, trying not to fall asleep and counting
the minutes until I could go back to bed, all the while marveling at your
perfect little face, your perfect little self.I remembered rocking you, listening to our favorite lullaby
cd, and me, in those early postpartum days, crying every time because I couldn't believe you were here, with me, after waiting for you for so long.
It was in this room that you took your first naps, learned
to sleep so well from month 1 in your crib, and where we read our stories. It was in this room, this tiny closet of a
room, that we cuddled and were silly, or where I comforted you when you were
upset and you just wanted to be held. It
was in this room that I watched you sleep, serene and cherubic, in your sweet little
zipper gowns, arms flat back on either side. It was in this room that I watched
you pull yourself up in your crib for the first time; where you talk to your
stuffies, and make all sorts of plans for the days ahead. It was in this room
that I’ve changed no less than a zillion diapers.
Yet I know you’ll love our new home. You’ve been there so much already—you’ve
staked out your space. But, no matter
how much we can’t wait to leave this place, it will always be your first
home. Where you learned to crawl and
took your first steps. Where you danced
to music and went running down the hall, playing peekaboo around the corner.
Where you took your first bath.
Where you went for your first walk with Gabby. Where you had your first
play dates.
My goal tomorrow is to have yours be the room that is the
last one we move and the first one we set up.
I want you to go to bed tomorrow night with the same sense of security
and safety that you’ve always had, knowing that I’ll be just right down the
hall. You’re growing up, and I know you’ll do just fine. But you're still just little. And change is hard.
I know your long term
memory has yet to even develop, so you may never even remember this place. But I’ll remember. And I’ll show you pictures. Because, we’re movin’ on.
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| Exploring the new place. Good for somersaults. |
