Craigslist post: One Sealy Ortho Rest baby mattress for sale.
Yesterday, I took down the crib that A and C slept in. A very few screws and carriage bolts held together what was at once a simple, wooden bed and a complex symbol of hope, fear, love, and family.
I remember setting up the crib for the first time. The delivery man had brought it a few days earlier than expected; he hauled the huge box up into the house by himself. D and I sat on the floor of the nursery, freshly painted a light sage green with murals of the myth of Aurora and scenes from Winnie the Pooh, trying to figure out the cryptic directions. After figuring out how "A" went together with "X" and not swearing too much, we stood before an empty crib. I imagine that we held hands, felt a swell of emotion and the swell of my belly, grinned at each other. We wondered how to keep the cats out of it. Secretly contemplated if there was any truth to the cat taking the baby's breath tale.
Both of our children's sleeping bodies occupied that small space, quickly growing to fit and then outgrow it. The crib has now been converted to a double bed where, again, the babies seem so small. D is ready for t-ball and Pop Warner; I'm waxing nostalgic over the thought of never buying diapers again. I imagine myself, after Cyrus is potty-trained, sniffling at Huggies coupons. My goodness.