Sunday, August 14, 2011
We took the crib down today.
After nine years and three babies, its job is done.
With the new ban on drop-side cribs, we probably can’t even give it away. As he was taking it apart, Brian noted, “I think we got our money’s worth.”
Nolan has been sleeping on a futon most nights for months now, but every so often he’ll ask to sleep in the crib again. His brothers were completely out of the crib when they were his age---because there was always a new baby using it by the time they were three.
I’m excited to have a three year old as our youngest. To mother these three boys without a baby in the mix. To start this next stage of our lives. And yet…
Almost every day for nine years I lifted a boy out of that crib and snuggled him in my arms. Or laid a sleepy one down in it while singing off-key. I still remember when Brian set it up, months early, in our home on Avery Street (see photo below---we didn't learn the gender during pregnancy #1, though the colors don't look like it). The sight of the crib made my pregnancy more real to me than the queasiness I felt at meals.
Maybe it will hold a grandbaby someday or maybe we’ll let it go. Letting go of the crib is the easy part. The sense, though, of all the change ahead each step of the way, of new rituals and daily sights that will eventually change too, of having to let each of them go eventually, that’s what makes it bittersweet.