I cried the moment I left my daughter's room last night. I should start out by saying that when I was pregnant with my first child, I read that your baby should leave his bassinet in his parent's room before three months of age in order to have a smooth transition. I was a new parent, so I listened. By ten weeks, I moved Aidan to his crib. I was a bit sad, but I knew it was the right thing to do.
My daughter is almost five months old, and she still sleeps in the bassinet in our room. My mom has been asking me for months, "you have moved her into her own room? Haven't you?" I got sick of denying it, so I lied -- "yep, I moved her." I felt badly, but I couldn't take it any longer. She is probably going to be my last baby. This time I am not as worried about doing what the BOOK told me to do. I am doing what feels right to me, my husband, and my daughter. And the three of us have been doing great the past five months. So there has been no incentive to change our situation. I am not ready for her to move allllll the way down our short hallway. I know now that once she moves, she is not coming back.
But recently I started to realize it is getting to that time to move her; she is getting too big for her bassinet . And last night seemed like the situation was leaning in the direction that it was the right thing to do for my husband and for her. Notice I didn't say it was the right thing to do for me. My husband expressed his desire to eat dinner later, after our son went to sleep. My daughter didn't take her typical late afternoon nap, and she was getting hungry because she missed her early evening milk. It seemed that keeping her up and feeding her after we ate was too late for her. And making my husband eat early just so I could hold her until she fell asleep was unfair to him. So I did it. I went upstairs, fed her, and put her down in her crib in her room with her full belly.
When I came downstairs without her, my husband was shocked to hear that I put her in her crib. He said," I thought you weren't ready for her to move yet."
I cried...and cried ... soft quiet tears. He had the table set for dinner. He had heated up our leftovers. He had poured the wine. I sat in the family room. And I cried ... and cried. I was not ready for my little one to grow up and move out of our room and into her own room. What am I going to do when she goes to preschool....to college?