A View of a Room

At night, I creep into our bedroom after my husband and the babies are asleep. The Rock N Plays stand at the end of our bed, two large contraptions holding two small babies. Somehow that view slices into my heart–I spend all day near them and it’s only after a few hours away that I get to see again how small and precious and perfect they are. It bends and breaks my heart every time. They are so tiny and wonderful and miraculous. Every night I get a moment of pre-nostalgia, knowing they’ll get bigger and louder and hopefully, if we’re lucky and pay attention, more precious too. Knowing these days are limited and sweet. Knowing I can’t hold on to them–the days or the tiny babies. Everything will change. They will change and I will be amazed and I will be bereft because it will have gone too fast and they will have grown up and grown away from me.

The babies’ room is at the end of the hallway, around the corner.Β  It’s not part of our life yet. We rarely go in there; it’s only partly decorated and is half storage. When I walk in the door, just like before they were born and I didn’t know what it was really like to have my own babies, it feels like I’m stealing in, sneaking in. Like I’m still waiting for those babies, that life as a mama. Like it’s on hold and still far away, unknown. I see the crib that’s never been slept in and I don’t want to visualize babies big enough to sleep in it. Even though they might be too big to share it already. Even though in my mind’s eye, I can see my sweet five pound newborns peacefully sleeping there side by side, bundled up and cozy. An image that was never real in that room and now never will be.

In that room, the babies are still more of a promise, a potential, than reality. In that room, I’m a storybook mother, beaming down at her sweet children while they slumber and smile in their dreams. My perfect dream self is rocking quietly in the corner of the perfectly decorated nursery and contemplating the perfect day everyone had together. I am saintly, patient, fully dressed. In my mind, that’s who that room can make me.

In that room lives the promise of first “Mama!”s, hugs from little arms, late night tears, toddlers with trucks. In that room, the future waits and the present is fleeting. In that room is the promise of life and of love.

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5 thoughts on “A View of a Room

  1. Pingback: Current schedule | We Have Twins?!

  2. Stumbled onto your blog as I’m up feeding my 6 week old baby at 3am while my 2.5 yr old sleeps upstairs in his “big boy” room and your post really touched me (i.e. made me cry). I feel the exact same way so often, and you articulated those feelings beautifully. I feel myself wanting to avoid moving my newborn son from our room into the crib in his nursery (where is older brother used to sleep until he rudely outgrew his crib) because perhaps avoiding the nursery and the crib will keep him small and snuggly and precious. Magical thinking πŸ™‚ It really does go too quickly. Beautiful post!

    • First, congrats on your new baby! And yes, whatever we can do to keep them small and snuggly I’m down with. πŸ™‚ Thank you so much for the kind words! πŸ™‚

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