Transition.
noun
1. movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another; change:

When I read that definition all I see is the word “change.” Up until lately I feel like I could easily be defined as a person who was adaptable to change. I tended to roll with the punches. That doesn’t mean I always had a smile on my face or didn’t put up a fight but I do believe while I may go through pout stages, I can quickly accept and move forward.

The thing is most young adults are actually okay, no, great with change. They have to be and they don’t even realize it. Within such a short period of time think about how much change a young adult goes through. There are so many transitions as one weaves their way through schooling, circles of friends or ever changing cliches, career paths, moving out of their parents home, falling in love, moving in with another, marriage and then boom, a baby!

That is where I am today. Looking back, the past 10 years have been full of change. It is now as we settle into adulthood, into norms, into routines that we become scared of change. Maybe it is because we have worked so very hard for what we have that we are afraid to “rock the boat,” as they say. That is also where I am today.

One thing Motherhood is teaching me is that change is inevitable because my baby is growing. This week I have been attempting to transition Baby Lo from our room to her own crib. I have made excuses for weeks as my husband pushed for us to begin a new routine months ago. Part of me wants her beside me for the pure comfort factor we have developed. Another part of me loves the fact that I am able to sleep, actually sleep and well, after so many months of not doing so, and this new set-up takes me back to newborn days when I awoke in a panic to make sure she was okay. Mostly though, I yearn for her closeness. Her being in that bedroom across the hallway is like a dreaded distance. She was not long ago inside me. Where I felt I could protect her. Soon after entering this beautiful yet scary world, she laid on my chest for those early weeks and we bonded. Placing her sweet self beside our bed every night never felt far, because she was an arms length away. But now things are different.

Now a walk stands between me and her. I watch her sleeping face on a monitor versus lifting my head to see hers. The anxiety of this transition may seem odd to most, including my husband who laughs and says, “What? Are you going to allow her to sleep in here until she is 12?”

“Yes!” I jokingly state.

But now as I write this post I am watching her peacefully sleeping from her monitor. Checking on her often. And, when I don’t get what I want from the monitor screen I make my way to her crib and look in on her. I tell her “I love her,” and most likely look so sad as I feel sad and almost sorry for this step of independence I am giving her.

I realize though, this transition is going to be one of many in our lives. I look back on those youthful years I described above. Full of so much change. All I can think about is my bouncy, happy self. I think about the days and how I choreographed my move out of the only home I knew and how much excitement I had as I started a new chapter. The only emotion I remember is happiness. Which leads me to finally realize what my parents went through as they nodded and smiled and slowly let me go. It is the same thing I am feeling. A new panging kind of pain I am beginning to experience for my girl.

Change is inevitable, it is how I choose to react that impacts the most, and in this situation it seems like this Momma, is going to have to for the first time fight back the tears and put a smile on my face. Because looking into this monitor, baby girl is just fine.

Enjoyed this post?  Awe, thanks. I am blushing.  We can connect through facebook||twitter || instagram ||pinterest || bloglovin’