growinghumans


The Nursery
November 25, 2015, 10:31 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I found my lullaby cd the other day; the one with all of the songs we played when Tiny Human was an even tinier human. It was a gift from a cousin–a mixed tape of all songs she thought would help the baby sleep soundly.

I put the cd on and sat down. I made it halfway through the first song and started to cry.

I was transported back in time, back in space, to that room. I was suddenly sitting in my rocking chair, in the dark, in some unknown hour. I was rocking my crying child. The cd was playing. It was on repeat. It looped three times as I sat there, holding my half slumbering newborn.

The songs on this cd became the story of us; mother and child. These songs were sacred.

The nursery itself was a sanctuary. It was a battleground. It was a cocoon. Nesting is a very real thing for mothers. We aren’t just picking out colors and placing pictures just so they will look nice. Something hardwired into our brains is making us act like birds. We are constructing. We are designing a very small space where big, hard things are about to happen. It needs to be safe. It needs to be sheltered from the outside world. It needs to be filled with love and patience and hope.

I remember when we dismantled the crib, when the rocking chair was moved out, when we got rid of the changing table. I remember when her nursery went from a safe harbor to just a bedroom. It is now filled with her toys, her books. It has a pink twin bed that you can sometimes see under the mountain of stuffed animals. This is no longer my room. This is her room.

But I will always remember this very small room and what it meant to me. When we bought the house, when we were viewing the house, I stepped into the room and sat down in the middle and took a deep breath. Things could happen here. A life could be made here. This is the room that made us buy the house.

When you bring a baby home, the nursery immediately becomes a separate entity from the rest of the house. My living room might be a disaster. My carpets might need vacuuming. There might be 5 loads of laundry on my own bed. But, in the nursery, everything is clean, everything is soft and welcoming. It is inside of those four small walls that you discover what it is to be a mother. You go beyond sleepless nights, beyond failed breastfeeding, beyond colic. You and your baby sit in the dark of the room, rocking back and forth back forth and listen to the same songs over and over again. That, in that moment, is when you become a mother.

And I will always remember it.

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