With Eliza, I started dreading the big move a few weeks ago. She's been consistently sleeping all night for about a month now so I knew it wouldn't be hard on her. But I also knew it would be hard on me. This time around it wasn't because I was scared to move her. Sure, I still check multiple times every night to make sure she's breathing and isn't too hot or cold, but I do that with LP too. This time around, it was sadness that this stage of babyhood is over. Since it took us so long to get pregnant with Eliza, Paul is adamant about not having a third baby. He doesn't want to be ready to retire but still have kids in high school. And so Eliza is the last baby who will curl up in a bassinet next to our bed. And I wasn't ready to give that up.
But we did it. Last night I wheeled her bassinet out of our room and down the hall. Read her a story in the rocking chair, put her down with her pacifier (against our pediatrician's rules but we're rule breakers), and left the room. She started crying, spit out the pacifier, and cried for a few minutes. I tiptoed in, put the pacifier back, and that was that.
Ditto tonight. I just tiptoed up and stuck that pacifier back in her mouth and now all is quiet with the exception of the dog snoring at my feet. LP was not a pacifier baby and to be honest I have mixed feelings about giving her one but it does calm her down. We try to mainly use it when she's sleeping and she spits it out pretty quickly so hopefully it won't become too much of a habit.
So now it's time for me to hit the couch and enjoy some grown-up girly shows before I head to bed. Morning will be here all too soon...