I hope that I always remember every detail of this room. Our first babe's nursery. I collected trinkets, sanded down and painted old furniture, thrifted new pieces and received countless gifts in order to put together this room not knowing if we would bring home a boy or a girl to dwell in it. Oh how girly it looks to me now. Funny how perfectly things work out.
If walls could talk these could recount such stories. I definitely remember freaking out in the middle of the floor trying to put my breast pump together a few days after we brought Wren home. I was so exhausted that the instructions looked like they may as well have been written in a foreign language. But Mike came to the rescue and we got it sorted out. If these walls were also counting they could certainly offer a running tally on sleepless nights and hours of nursing, rocking, singing, reading and OH the dirty diapers.
I can see now Mike working tirelessly on the crib and dresser before Wren arrived, the perfect morning light pouring into the crib as I greet my sweet girl good morning, the quiet nursing and soothing back to sleep in the middle of the night as we learned each other those first few months together, wrapping up together in blankets made by my Mimi, Wren's first gaggle of giggles due to my silly entertainment, Oowa singing "funny face" and rocking endlessly to give me a break, baby powder clouds, hide and seek, talking and petting kitty, goat and garden bear to sleep, my little laundry "helper" and now climbing every available surface and structure and pretend play all day every day.
I've watched my first baby come home to this room. Grow in this room. And now begin to outgrow this room. I hope to never forget the tenderness of the memories held within it.
