Well, we did it. We have reclaimed our bedroom.
No bassinets, no pack and plays, no bouncy chairs, no basket of diapers and wipes for middle of the night diaper changes. The only thing 'baby' that remains in our room is a toy or two left over from weekend play time, the flock of rubber duckies in our bathroom tub, a very small sock smuggled in by a very small dog, and a baby monitor keeping my girl tied to me while she sleeps…
...In her own bed. That's right. It only took 7 months.
I thought it would be one of those moments where I cry hysterically all night clutching the baby monitor, running to her room every half hour to make sure she is still breathing, and making any excuse to bring her back into our room. But it wasen't… no exactly, at least.
I still lay in bed and listen to her breathe over the monitor and if I can't hear the steady rhythm, I push Matt out of bed to go watch her chest rise and fall. I still make Matt promise me that she'll be okay every night before we go to bed. It's only natural. For peace of mind.
I have not made any excuses to bring her back to our room when I can't handle it. Mainly because I've handled it well. That, and in an effort to have my bedroom back in one piece I broke down the pack and play and moved it out into the living room, so, there is no where for her to sleep anyways since Matt has put his foot down about co-sleeping. For now.
It's strange, the de-clutter of the bedroom. We moved the furniture around before she was born to accommodate the massive amounts of baby equipment you think you need in your bedroom for a 7lb newborn who does nothing but sleep, eat, and poop and now it's an empty hole. We need to re-rearrange and fill the gaps.
But I like it. I like walking into her bedroom on Saturday morning and watching her sleep heavy on pink and white gingham sheets in the crib that her daddy and Paw Paw built months before she was born. I like hearing her giggle, coo, and talk to herself over the monitor as she stirs awake in the rays of sunlight streaming in through the window. I like watching her gaze at the mobile I made for her with flowers, butterflies, and ribbon hanging over her and swaying in the breeze of the paddle fan.
To be honest, I wish I had done this earlier. I wish I knew that this step in my daughter growing up wouldn't result in some catastrophe but rather less creeping around in the mornings while I get ready for fear of waking her up, less stubbed toes and bruised legs from running into her pack and play in the middle of the night, and the pleasure of using the room we so lovingly prepared for her last spring that up until now, was pretty much just a baby stuff storage unit.
Oh but now, now it's the place were we tuck her in, give her kisses, and say prayers. A place for early morning play, getting ready, and snuggling while we rock in her glider. It's her bedroom.