Butterfly slept in her big girl crib for the first time last night. Seeing as she’d officially exceeded the 15 pound weight limit on her bassinet by 2 pounds at her 6 month checkup, I decided it was time. (Everyone follow those numbers? Because I think I just sprained something trying to keep them straight.) So with a sigh, I set up the crib in Ladybug’s room (yup, she gets the new roommate because StrawBee still thinks climbing in the crib and jumping while the baby is sleeping is a good game) and laid the Captain down to sleep.
With nary a peep, she conked right out.
As I lay in bed that night, I was sorrowful. I had the baby monitor turned on for the first time at night; I had my door and Ladybug’s door open; I reminded myself that I wasn’t deaf and wouldn’t sleep through her crying. I closed my eyes, and imagined the blog post I would write about it. About how, like with my other children, it was such a wrench to let her go. How it was hard to wake up at 4 and realize that she was still sleeping because, since she couldn’t hear me close by, she didn’t feel the need to nurse. How it was difficult to keep from jumping out of the bed to keep from checking on her every time I rolled over. How it was saddening to think she might be the last baby to sleep in my bedroom for a long, long time.
Butterfly was kind to me, however.
She didn’t give me a chance to experience a single one of those things.
In fact, so worried was she about my overwhelming mental discomfort, she decided to let me know that she wasn’t really all that far away.
She assured me that she wasn’t going to abandon me.
That we’d always be fast friends in the small hours of the morning.
And that no matter what else happens, she’ll be happy to see me standing next to her crib.
Butterfly just wanted to make me happy and leave me comforted. I think she may be a bit of an overachiever.
I may also have prayed for God to make me a morning person.
You’d think I would’ve learned after how praying for patience went.