Big, Big Milestone

Andrew's sleeping in his own crib, in his own room, tonight.

I have mixed feelings about this.

I mean, he's four and a half months old, and he's going to have to move out of the bassinet sometime. After all, once he's able to pull himself up to a sitting or standing position, the bassinet will become hideously dangerous, since the sides are only about 12 inches high. And he's fast approaching the age when babies start getting separation anxiety, so it's better that he gets used to being on his own before that phase actually starts.

Right?

I confess to a degree of ambivalence, during my pregnancy and in the immediate postpartum period, about some of the things that are really bothering me now. The thought of weaning him, for instance, already fills me with wistful sadness and longing. I was of the opinion, while gestating at least, that babies should be switched to cow's milk as soon as they're physiologically ready for it, or even before -- if they've started using you as a human teething ring. I thought I was going to be one of those moms whose mantra is "if Mommy thrives, then baby thrives," and that I'd find ways to carry on my pre-baby professional and social life as if nothing had ever changed. The thing is, I haven't done that -- not anywhere near that -- and I don't mind in the slightest (although I would appreciate it if Roo would sit nicely and amuse himself in his high chair while we eat meals, instead of gritching -- how is it that a child who is happy and smiling the rest of the day can immediately detect and protest when we want to turn our attention away from him and towards our blueberry pancakes???)

Here are my fears (and most of them are not founded, I know):
1. I read too much, and so of course I came across some article about how babies who don't sleep in the same room as their mother are more likely to die of SIDS. SIDS terrifies me.
2. What if someone breaks into the house and is able to sneak past my room into Roo's, and abducts him? At least when he was in the bassinet, I was between him and the bedroom door.
3. What if the baby monitor receiver in my room runs out of battery juice, and I don't hear Andrew's cries, through 2 doors and down the hall? What if there's something horribly wrong with him, or he's just sad and lonely, and I don't hear him, and he's permanently scarred, or worse?

Of course, Dad put this in perspective tonight by saying things like "Gee, I hope the wall doesn't fall off the house and the crib end up in the front yard," etc. The thing is, I know I'm being irrational. But honestly, I'm frankly just going to miss having my baby next to me at night. I'm going to miss just being able to reach over and caress his cheek if he wakes up and needs to be soothed back to sleep. I'll miss being able to put my hand on his chest to check his breathing (yes, I know, irrational, but what mother hasn't done this?).

And finally, part of me is wistful that my little baby is growing up. So fast. Daddy and I went through Roo's dresser today and took out tons of stuff that he's outgrown and will never be able to wear again. We went diaper shopping today at BJ's, and we bought Size 3. SIZE THREE. Including "Newborn," that's the fourth diaper size he's been in! He can almost sit up by himself now. He can hold a toy and put it into his mouth, and we're pretty sure those bumps on his bottom gums are teeth, soon to break through the surface. He "talks" and smiles and flirts and can amuse himself, and he's fascinated by the dogs and cats. He'll be trying solid food soon.

If anyone is reading this who's about to have her first baby, or who's thinking of having a first baby, please take my word for it: No matter how hard and frustrating and exhausting the first few weeks and months of motherhood are, there's nothing like them -- you are your baby's whole entire world, so enjoy it while it lasts. Too soon, he or she will be leaving your arms one way or another, and oh, it hurts. Those of you who are mothers already: You know this.

So tonight, I'm going to try to comfort myself by tidying up my bedroom a bit before sleep. I haven't tidied my bedroom much in the past few months. After all, there was a bassinet and a rocking chair and footrest and a pile of receiving blankets and baby afghans and board books taking up space. Tonight I'll once again be able to turn on the bedside lamp and read a book without waking my son. I can cough, sneeze, and blow my nose the way God intended: loudly and satisfyingly, rather than quietly and meekly, under the covers. I can bring my laptop up to bed with me and keep it at full brightness if I want.

Why is it just not the same?