tonight’s the night little love.
tomorrow you become six. months. old.
that means tonight is your very last night sleeping beside your mama and your daddy in your very own mini crib.
tomorrow we make the move to nights in your nursery.
six months in.
how did this happen? how did it become normal to be a mama? when did I stop waking up, shaking my head and saying, “i can’t believe it…”?
it’s just life we live now. each day waking up where we left off the one before. things haven’t changed much, we just conquer them together now.
it’s more natural to tetris all my groceries in the kid seat because your carseat takes up the entire basket. it’s more normal to make sure a tiny baby is fed, clean and dressed than myself. it’s become habit to balance the weight of a carseat in the crook of my left elbow. I’m accustom to life on a 4 hour cycle: sleep, play, eat, repeat. it’s become standard to sleep as deep as possible while still rocking your crib.
tonight’s the last night that I reach over half awake, drop my hand near yours and feel your sleepy fingers grasp one of mine. the last time I’m lulled to sleep by the trio of clockwork breathing. daddy, puppy, baby. seems I’m always the forth.
tonight’s the last time that, without waking, i successfully reinsert your pacifier and smoosh your precious blanky closer to your chin.
I know tonight won’t forever be the final night you sleep in my bed. snuggle near your papa. steal all my covers. there will be many a bad dream and thunder storm in years to come when I’ll wake to your nose pressed against mine, “mama, can I sleep with you?”
but tonight’s the last night that my room is yours. my bed is yours. after tonight, my mama head will lovingly coax you back to yours. your papa’s arms will preciously carry you back to yours.
because that is what’s best, for our family. that you learn over time to find peace and rest in the comfort of your own space.
but I can promise you, my love. my mama head and your papa’s arms might send you back to bed. but my mama heart will always crave just one more night like tonight. one more slumber party all together. me sleeping in crooked ways just so you are most comfortable. waking up with the perfect combination of exhaustion and contentment.
then again, who makes the rules anyway?
tomorrow may be the beginning of a new season of sleep. you belong in your bed and us in ours. but you can trust, sweet z. thunderstorms or not. tonight won’t be a last.