DREAM OF LOVE AND THIS
It’s like that Julie Andrews song, “I could have danced all night”. That’s how it felt, I could have rocked you all night. You were particularly squirmy and spit up green peas all over my shoulder... maybe you knew it too. I always sing you La La Lu and depending on how determined you are to fight your sleep, I will usually loop around and sing it twice. Occasionally I have to sing it three times, and on a select few long nights I’ve had to sing it five times. This night was a five loop special, but it’s okay... I really didn’t mind.
I started to get a stomach ache somewhere around the time of your bath. I couldn’t pinpoint what brought it on, but subconsciously I must have known. My body was feeling the pull. The whole time your Daddy washed your hands in the tub, carefully cleaning in between each of your tiny fingers, I just watched you. A part of me ached while he gave you your bottle and I read you a story. I tried to breathe in every second, and then I looked at you... swaddled up with your paci, ready to be sung to sleep and tucked into bed in our room, for the last night. I savoured that walk from your nursery, through the dark hallway to our room. And then I sung, through tears, I sung to you. As I sung I thought back to all the nights I’ve done this, proud to have never taken a single one for granted but still collapsing at the realization of how time has brought us here so quickly. Each loop of La La Lu had you squirming a little less and by five you’d fallen sound asleep in my arms. I couldn’t bear to put you down, so I gave you an encore... a sixth loop.
Whenever I lay you down I always kiss your head and tell you “Good night my sweet Lou Lou, I love you so much baby girl. Dream of beautiful things, like love and _______”. I always fill that last part in with something different. It could be “love and Daddy” or “love and bubbles”, anything that made you smile that day. Tonight I kissed your head and told you to dream of “love and… this” I know this time, this experience together, will be one of the many memories you’ve given me to fall asleep dreaming of.
I came out of the room crying and completely broke down. Bless your Dad, he’s a light sleeper and it hasn’t always been easy for him to share the room. But still, he sees me crying and tells me that “It’s okay, you can keep her with us if you want.” He knows how much I love you and he never challenges it. After all, it hasn’t just been the seven months of slumber parties, there were the ten months before when it was just us. Since the moment you became real we’ve ended our days snuggled together, and I don’t think I was ever going to happily welcome the end of that era.
But I know it’s time, for you mostly. You deserve a quiet, undisturbed room. You deserve to dream your beautiful thoughts in the nursery we put so much love into. (The one I’m sitting in crying while I write this). You deserve the world Lou, because you are mine.
So tonight, we took a drive. I have so truly revelled in every part of motherhood that I’ve found it hard to put an end to things on my own terms. When Lou outgrows a sleeper, I get sad but it’s easier to move on from something that physically no longer fits her. Deciding when to end our room sharing journey has been tough, so I wanted to make it special. We decided to take a drive, Lou’s first trip to the beach.
We couldn’t walk on the beach because of the current restrictions in place, but we could show it to her. She could feel the wind on her face and watch the waves roll in, leaving her with the most beautiful images to fall asleep dreaming of. It’s my favourite place in the world to be and sharing it with her for the first time was the perfect way to turn the page to a new chapter in her sleep story. It comforted me to know that she had that pretty image in her mind as I slowly snuck out of her room, leaving her there to dream of the water.
It still wasn’t easy, I still cried, and at about 4:30 in the morning I couldn’t sleep so I snuck back into your room to sleep in your rocking chair… but it helped. For those milestone goodbyes that tend to seem a little more bitter than sweet, find a way to sweeten them up. Make them a happy memory, for you and your family, so you can always look back on it and feel that sense of warmth that love brings.
