For nearly five years, the room has been a home to our boys. It’s been their room, their nursery. It’s been the place where they rolled over for the first time, learned to sit on their own, and the bane of my existence on many a sleepless night as my little ones cried out in their first few months in this world.
Five years ago, my husband and I began the process of turning one of our guest rooms into a nursery. When we set out to create the room, neither one of us were looking for the high end glamour found between the glossy pages of the hundreds of magazines that cater to parents. No. We didn’t want something sophisticated or snobbish. We wanted fun. We wanted a children’s room, not a miniature version of our room. We wanted something that screamed, “a child lives in here,” and full of bright colors and shapes. So, without knowing the sex of our first child, we started on one of our first adventures down parenthood lane.
We chose a white bed just so we could match it with a dresser and nightstand that we already had. And then going with the most gender neutral of themes, as well as something I knew my husband would like, we decided to turn the room into a nautical adventure.
One wall became a sea and sky, with various sea life decals along with the sun, clouds, and a few sea gulls. From that point forward, we just accessorized and within a few weeks, not only did we know we were having a little boy, but also Captain Davey’s cabin was complete aboard the S.S. Doser.
From the start, I sat in the floor of the room, breathing in the tranquility and imagining what our lives would be like. I read to Davey as he kicked in my belly, told him stories about his room, what it was like and how much I knew he would love it. I would lie on the floor and romanticize about my happy little home and family, my little baby toddling around. I planned out his first 18 years of life lying on that floor. It was the greatest room in the house and I never wanted to leave.
Davey, and my husband and I, enjoyed nearly two years in that room. Two years of sleepless nights, of stories, of rocks in the rocking chair, of sleeping on the floor while Davey held to my hand just so he would feel safe. We had two years of more memories than I ever thought possible. Then Henry came along, and the cabin became the quarters of Captain Henry. Another round of sleepless nights followed, along with afternoons of his big brother watching over him while he napped. Dixie even managed to sleep in front of the crib some days, ever the Henry’s protector. Now, nearly 2 & 1/2 years later, this little square room of bliss and memories, is soon graduating up as we turn the nursery into Henry’s big boy room.
This afternoon, I began the painstaking process of taking down decorations, removing books, and taking down curtains. I’ve started patching holes where nails and screws once resided. With each piece of decoration that came out of the room, my heart hurt just a little. As I began repairing holes, a tear travelled down my cheek, and then I had to stop. I had to just take this room in again, a room that has served as nothing more than a place for my boys to sleep, and look at it again. I had to look at each little corner, each little area of the carpet and just as if they were holograms coming forth from my memories, I could see my boys as babies in this room, and I began to cry.
I never thought it would hit me this hard. I never thought that removing baby items would hurt the way it has. Truthfully, I’m a bit nervous as to how I’ll be on Saturday when the crib comes completely down and a new queen size bed sits in its place. This is a chapter that is quickly closing in our lives. It saddens me and yet excites me at the same time. What new adventures will await us? What sort of mischief will be caused by Henry once he has his big boy room in place? And just like five years ago, I find myself sitting on the floor of the nursery, it’s pitiful, naked, saddened state, and wondering what will our lives be like next year?
While the walls of the room may still stand tall and strong, I feel as if we are saying, “goodbye, little room. Just like your inhabitants, it’s time for you to grow.”