At noon tomorrow, we close on our new house. And tonight, as I write this, I am a ball of mixed emotions.
I’m so ready to have our own place, a place to really make our own. We’ve also had a shitty landlord situation (euphemism) and I’m ready to be free of it, BUT this is the house that we brought Mae home to from the hospital. These hardwood floors are the ones we paced for hours while she cried. The big front porch was our savior more times than we can count.
The antique bear claw tub is where we bathe her every night and the stain glass window is what she looks at and recognizes as home.
I know that the three of us are what make our home, but I’m feeling so sentimental about leaving Mae’s first place. How many mornings have I spent with her propped on my legs while she watched the light come in our bedroom windows?
And I know there will be new memories and special things about the new house, but this move comes just a few weeks before I return to work, so in a way, it signifies the end of our time together, just me and Mae, so many hours alone in this house together. So many hours of struggle and sorrow, but also joy and growth that can’t be put into words. This house was our little bubble through these first few months. Sometimes it was solace and sometimes it was isolation.
It’s just that SO much has happened in this house–my transformation into a mother.
One thought that calmed me today was thinking about how we’d measure Mae’s height on the kitchen wall in the new house, just like I did growing up, because this house will be ours and we can mark it up and change it and really live and love in it with Mae.