My husband and I have been preparing The Boy for this move for a couple of months now, explaining all of the details involved--getting a new big boy bed, moving his toys upstairs, getting to pick out new dinosaur sheets, etc--all the while purposely leaving out the details as to why he was being moved... to make room for his new baby sister due later this month. .
Unfortunately, as is usually the case in our household, time is a major issue. There is never enough of it. The Boy's room was not completely set up by bedtime that day and at 8pm it was nothing more than a bed among boxes that had once been stored in that space and were simply pushed against a wall to accomodate his bed. But we had promised The Boy that he could sleep in his new room that night and we were determined to keep that promise.
The Boy seemed totally unaffected by the fact that there was nothing familiar of his own in this room... with the exception of his "red bear" which he sleeps with every night. He happily explored his new digs, bounced on the mattress, checked out the drawers under his bed and helped put some books away in his bookcase headboard. As I sat on his bed and looked around, I was completely convinced that he would be freaked out once being left alone in this foreign space amongst looming towers of boxes and want to be back in the comforts of his room next to Mommy & Daddy. But we trudged along with our normal bedtime routine, kisses, snuggles, donk heads, ice water, music, etc. I said goodnight to my Little Man and walked down the stairs.
10 minutes later, beneath the soft drone of his lullaby CD, I could hear his gentle snores.
I was relieved, until...
I emerged from my own bedroom to find the door to his old room open, and inside nothing but a silent darkness and an empty toddler bed. Something was wrong. The Boy was home and in bed, but he wasn't where he should be. He wasn't where I was used to seeing him and hearing him. Not in the safe place next to my room where I could check on him whenever I wanted... as often as I wanted. I instantly felt an overwhelming sense of loss. He was gone. My baby was gone. My little boy was growing up and truly becoming a big boy. And as any self-respecting mother would do, I
The Boy has now officially been in his new room for a full week and is as content as ever. He loves his new bed, and being close to his big sister. I've been feeling very nostalgic this week, and have been viewing old home movies taken of him over the last 3 years. I don't know if it's helped or not. My only comfort now is knowing that in a few short days/weeks, I would have another baby to fill that void... and hopefully the loss of my first baby won't feel so tragic.