Dear Henry,
The last time I nursed you, it was an ordinary Wednesday night. I didn't know it was going to be the last time. I hadn't planned on it. Sure, we'd been heading that way for a while, but I am usually a planner, a deadline-setter, and I had done neither. Before summer started, you were nursing for a little before we left the house in the morning and then five minutes before bed. Yes, five minutes. We had a timer and everything. Once summer started, the morning "nuk" stopped in favor of sleeping in later and then having chocolate milk and watching TV.
The weekend before that Wednesday, we had switched over your crib to a big boy bed. And on the first night, you weren't happy about it. You wanted to be in Mom and Dad's bed. Where you'd fallen asleep for the majority of your short life. Safely snuggled next to me until you drifted off, then quietly snuck across the hallway to be deposited oh so gingerly in your crib (or as you called it, your "prib").
For a while now, we've had a pretty set routine. At some point in the evening, someone decides it's bedtime, so the rigamarole starts. We head upstairs and brush your teeth. Well, we brush (singing the alphabet or Twinkle Twinkle or Baa Baa Black sheep twice), rinse and spit like Hulk, take a drink and say a refreshing "Ahhh!" like Hulk, floss, and get bubble gum "treat" (it's really bubblegum fluoride rinse, but you like it enough to call it a treat). Then you get undressed, put your clothes in the hamper, and take a bath. When you're done, we usually tell the water we'll see it tomorrow, get PJs on, watch a couple YouTube videos with Dad ("Deos? Dad? Dad deos?"), give kisses and hugs goodnight, turn out the hall light and read a book (or two or three) in Mom and Dad's bed. After the book, you always exclaim "Nuk!" at which point I remind you that we can have Nuk for five minutes, then we need to rebrush your teeth and have bubble gum "treat" again, and then it's time for Nuk to go night night. After Nuk, you ask for "hugs" and we snuggle to sleep.
When your big boy bed came on the scene, the after Nuk snuggles disappeared in favor of me sitting next to your bed for a little while. After a couple of days, you requested your Dad's presence.
It all went fine on Wednesday night. You had Nuk, we brushed your teeth and did the bubble gum treat and went to your room. I sat for a while, then you asked for Dad.
Something happened on Thursday night. Something in my head told me you were ready. Instead of books in Mom and Dad's bed, I set the selection out on the floor of your room next to your bed. When I went to get you from watching deos with Dad, I warned him that I was gonna try a Nuk-free night. That if it was a shitshow, I'd likely abandon ship and try again another day.
So you said your goodnight to Dad. Hugged him, gave him kisses and said "Love you!" You turned out the hall light just like any normal night and instead of turning left in the hall to go into our room, we turned right and went into yours. You were unsure at first, but when you saw our regular nighttime books on the floor, you went right to them and picked out the one you wanted to read. So we read "I Love You Little Pumpkin." At one point during the book, you turned around and looked at me and said "Nuk?" And I told you, "Not tonight, Doodles. When we're done with the book, you'll crawl in bed and snuggle up." When we finished the book and had satisfactorily pointed out all the leaves and clouds and tails (or weeps, pwouds and teohs), I said, "OK Buddy, time for bed!"
You hesitated a moment and I braced for the tears (yours not mine). Then you asked for another book. We made our way through Dinosaurumpus during which I realized that I was the one who was going to struggle through this more than you. I fought back tears as we introduced all the Rumpus attendants and then finally finished the book.
Again, you hesitated and said, "Bear hunt?"
So we went on a Bear Hunt. On each page, I felt like I was reassuring myself that I wasn't scared and reminding myself that the only way to go was through it. After we'd made it through the grass, the river, the mud, the forest, the snowstorm and the cave, you covered your eyes and snuggled into me in anticipation of finding the bear. And we found him. And we ran back through all those places, with the bear calling to us, "Guys! Wait for me!" until finally we were back safe at home. And we consoled the poor sad bear at the end of the book and marveled at the moon and the lake.
And then it was The End. And we closed the book. And you climbed in bed and took your teddy bear and blanket. And I kissed your forehead and told you, "I love you, Doodles. Sleep tight." And you asked for Dad. By the time he got back to your room, you were asleep.
And that was that. It was pretty much a non-event.
As we were laying down to go to sleep that night, your Dad asked if I was OK. And I asked, "Ok with what?" And he said, "With Henry...you know. Growing up." And I responded, "No, never."
I am caught somewhere in between feeling so incredibly proud of how brave and flexible you were that Thursday, and feeling so sad that another part of your babyhood has ended. In between being so excited for our future adventures, and feeling so scared that, as time goes on, it will be harder and harder to remember all the sweet moments from your earliest years.
Buddy, I'm starting to realize that parenthood is a series of Bear Hunts. You begin approaching each new milestone, bravely claiming that you're not scared and knowing that if you just push through the challenges, you can face whatever comes your way. And then you come face to face with the bear, and it's terrifying and you just want to run and hide and pretend that there will never be another hunt. But there are always new bears to meet. And each one is amazing and terrifying all at the same time. If you're on board, I'll keep being brave and going through it, because we obviously can't go over it and can't go under it.
Love,
Mom
