A Double Bed Made Me Sad

4 Dec

Yes, a double bed has made me oh, so very sad.

It unexpectedly tore at my heartstrings this weekend and put me in a contemplative mood. A reflective mood. A sad mood.

Why? Because, for the first time in 11 1/2 years, there is no baby crib in our house.

I remember shopping for this crib back in early 2001. I was in my third trimester with #1 and I was over the moon. We had been trying to get pregnant for several years, and I had suffered a miscarriage a couple of years earlier. I wanted nothing more than to be a mother.

I planned a trip to Albuquerque (90 minutes away) for some serious baby shopping. I found this crib in the third store I visited that day. It was a simple, honey-colored convertible crib. I had visions of transitioning baby(ies) from crib to little kid bed to double bed. But I didn’t dwell too long on those thoughts, because I still had to squeeze this little fella out and get on with the new adventure of parenthood.

We had to pick the crib up later. I don’t remember why – either I didn’t have a big enough vehicle or they had to get one for me. Anyway, in early 2001 Hubs and I were our church’s youth group leaders. We planned a trip to Albuquerque for a day of fun at a local go-kart/arcade/bumper boat/laser tag place, and I made sure to build in enough time to swing by the baby store to pick up the crib because we had the church’s van. I remember Hubs and a couple of the teenage boys sliding the box along the side of the van by the door. I don’t know for sure, but I think the kids were as excited for this baby as we were.

Anyway, the bed sat in the box for a few weeks before Hubs and his father assembled it. I didn’t get to help because they did it while I was napping. I was a little irked because I wanted to help, but when I saw the crib in the room, my irritation disappeared. This was real. This was happening. We were going to have a baby.

It held my little man for two years until his sister came along, then she occupied it for a couple of years until another sister arrived. Kid #3 actually got to use it as a toddler bed for quite a while – until she was 4 – but then Baby K needed the crib. She finished out her time in the bed also using it as a toddler bed, but then we decided it was time for her to move out of her single room and into a shared room with #3, thereby allowing #2 to move into the single room.

Baby K and Gray Cat, who wins the award for "Most Years Sleeping in a Crib."

Baby K and Gray Cat, who wins the award for “Most Years Sleeping in a Crib.”

Saturday evening, as we were disassembling the crib and carrying pieces unnecessary to the double bed out to the garage, I had a moment of true sadness. I’ve known since I was 3 months preggers with Baby K that she was going to be our last. I’m ok with that. I mean, I’m almost 40 – I don’t have any desire to be pregnant again. But occasionally I’ll get that little pang of nostalgia when I’m around much-younger friends and their teeny tiny ones. Thankfully, though, the nostalgia is short-lived and I’m able to get on with my day.

But Saturday was different. This was something I hadn’t expected. Why was taking down this crib so hard for me? I guess it’s one thing to say, “We’re done having babies,” while my youngest is still a baby, but quite another thing to remove from my home a fixture that represents infancy. We’re done. For real.

I’ll still call #4 “Baby K” because she’s the youngest, but she’s in a big-girl bed now. She’s on the bottom bunk in the big-girl room she shares with one of her sisters. The nursery is about to undergo a transformation into the room of a tween. Things might not be easier from here on out, but I know they’ll at least be different. Lord, help me!


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