
She's gone. That's the corner where her crib has been for the last year and a half; where the sun shined down on her during her afternoon nap; where she would wake up at the crack of dawn, jump up, look over at me and squeal, "Momma!" Where I would walk over in the dark every night before I went to bed and tuck her pink blankie under her chin, remove any books or toys and rub the side of her head to make sure she wasn't fevered.
Saturday night was my last chance to do that... before we moved her to her own room. I had been dreading this moment. I truly enjoyed having her close to me... hearing her every breath, every sigh.. even getting to hear her giggle in her sleep. Out of the 3 girls, she was the only one to ever share our room. We were truly lucky that they all slept through the night very early on so they went straight to cribs in nurseries with no bassinets or co-sleeping. Consequently, I enjoyed having her close. But we knew it couldn't last too long or she would really become accustomed to us being with her at night and a transition would be increasingly difficult (for her and I both.)
Saturday night was my last night listening to her breaths, her rustling, her murmuring. I don't know if I will remember the details years from now. We never remember the lasts. It's only the firsts that we etch into our memory, in our baby books, in our journals. But it is the lasts that I want to remember... the last time they smile at you with that gummy mouth before they get their first tooth... the last time they gaze up at you from your breast before they move on to their sippy cup or baby bottle... the final time they lay on your chest and fall asleep twirling your hair before they are just too big to fit into that nook on your chest.
It's the lasts I want to enjoy; to appreciate and relish as the moment passes. To know that it will never happen again and not to take it for granted.
Thankfully, there is a big guest bed in her room, so if I really feel the need, I can sneak a couple more last nights sleeping with her.
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