The End of an Era

Today we got rid of Mia’s crib.  It wasn’t just your typical landmark transition from baby to toddler bed; this transition marked the end of an era for our family.

I bought this crib 7 years ago, piggy backing on the extensive research that Care put into cribs (for both of us newly pregnant moms at the time) and then hijacked a ride down to North York with her in her mom’s Toyota Highlander (the biggest, most extravagant care we could conceive of at the time) to pick them up.

We had a great day, driving to the random warehouse just north of Toronto.  We complained about pregnancy, contemplated the future and daydreamed about our babies together while getting lost repeatedly in the confusing world of North York.  It was absurdly funny; the kind of laid-back day I so naively took for granted back then. 

I remember picking out a pale oak coloured crib to match my pale pine coloured house at the time.  If ONLY I had known how much I would LOATHE light coloured wood by the time I was at the end of maternity leave I would have gone with the dark one.  I also remember passing up in the little kit they sold that converted the crib to a “day bed” for the child when they were old enough to transition to a real bed.

I wasn’t being cheap: I was being entirely practical.  My brain was having a hard enough time rationalizing the fact that I would soon need a CRIB for an actual BABY, let alone the fact that one day THIS baby and ALL of their potential siblings (and WHO KNEW how many that would be!)  would be big enough to no longer even NEED a crib.  It was kind of like trying to understand Einstein’s theory of relativity: it was mind-boggling.

“No, “ I said politely to the salesman, “I don’t think I will take the transition kit today…”

And now here we are, LIGHT YEARS later, after all of time and life has warped shape and some how transitioned itself (WITHOUT the transition kit) to the other side of infinity.

I made it.

WE made it.

I find myself now with a 6 year old and a 3 year old whom I couldn’t even imagine life without.  And my husband, who I have been to the moon and back with.  Whom I have weathered two labours, 2 maternity and 2 paternity leaves with.  With whom I lived in that little ICU room at sick kids for the two most grueling weeks of our lives.  My husband, whom I love exponentially more and in hundreds of different ways than I did that day way back when I naively embarked on this journey and bought us the crib.

I felt it was only fitting that it was with him that I dismantled this meaningful crib.   And as Rob and I started to take the crib apart he suddenly stopped, looked at me with knowing intensity and then asked the question that only my husband would think to ask in this great moment of transition and sadness and triumph,

“Uh..Lyss…do you remember if you screwed together the front of the crib or the sides of the crib first?  I think it is important to know which order it needs to be unassembled and then reassembled in…”

No, I did NOT remember.

“SERIOUSLY?” he answered. “You have a TERRIBLE memory.”

HOW had I forgotten (in the 7 years that has passed) such a VITAL piece of information?  Perhaps it was because I was deep in the depths of a pregnancy fog that has still not entirely lifted…perhaps because I was whistling and daydreaming to myself while I put the crib together…or maybe, hey, maybe I don’t REALLY pay attention to those sorts of details from SEVEN YEARS AGO.

I offered up some useful hints and practical suggestions, (none of which made up for the fact that I had carelessly disposed of more useful pieces of information) but somehow we managed (miraculously!) to get the crib apart and into the trailer.  And we’re still married.

There is a new little baby in the world that is now enjoying the comfort of a (very pale and slightly ugly) oak wood crib.  There is a little 3 year old who cries herself to sleep every night in the scary world of her new big girl bed.  And there’s a now grown up little girl who lies there at night, marveling at how quickly time has gone by and hoping it slows down a bit so she can cherish these moments, and all the transitions and joys that come with being a mom…

Toby, the crib's original member, on his first night at home...

Mia, slightly less neurotically swaddled, enjoying the crib in her first week