Howe Two: Symbols

Recently I realized how much one object symbolizes for me. It's the nursery glider. The one I fretted over, begged Matt to order, and was delighted to place in Jillian's nursery a few months before she arrived. I remember the day we brought it home. It sat downstairs in the box most of the night while we were in OB triage because I had a sensation of water leaking (if you have been reading all these years you know that I had a little bladder issue, and was not in fact leaking amniotic fluid....I was so embarrassed!). I remember Matt holding her in the chair the first full day she was home and reading the first book--"Moo Baa La La La" by Sandra Boynton. I spent many, many, many nights nursing the girls while half asleep myself in that chair, or reading by the light of my kindle. I sang "Jesus Loves Me" thousands of times while rocking to that familiar little squeak it always made. I propped babies up in it for pictures amongst a sea of stuffed animals, watched my parents read to my kids, and at some point discovered each girl asleep within it as a wayward toddler refusing a night in their new toddler bed. Yes, this chair holds so much meaning and so many memories for me. And tonight I let it go. It was carried out of my house by a couple with two much smaller girls who will now make their own memories. Am I nuts? Perhaps. It was with great debate that I let this chair leave my presence. Over a year ago it was officially moved out of the nursery, as Adrienne tended to try some wild acrobatics in her ongoing quest to hurt herself (unintentionally of course). The girls have grown and we now read books snuggled in bed with them or on the floor. So there it sat--first in the office area, and then in the guest room--ignored, unused, and out of place. Matt has been pushing me to get rid of it for some time now, reminding me that it's just a chair, an object that no longer fits in our home. Despite his valid points, the emotion is strong for me as the primary chair rocker of this family. While this season of parenting feels so, so sweet in many ways, it is scary to enter this new zone. Kindergarten. Both kids in some sort of school several hours a week. Bigger problems. Bigger fears. Bigger threats to innocence. Bigger world. I feel it all coming at me in the not so distant future. In some ways I long for those quiet, dark nights snuggled up with a sweet smelling baby who needs me more than any other, because really, all was simplest then. Most problems could be solved with a rock in the chair. As I could feel my emotion building today anticipating the evening pickup of this chair, I decided I needed one last rock. I told the girls the chair would be gone in the morning and that I wanted to read them one last story in it. It was of course the one we started with almost 6 years ago. And while I expected to cry my way through the story, I suddenly felt peace as my girls spilled out of my lap and over the sides of the chair. We have had our season in this chair, and it has passed. We are in a new season now, full of wonderful things that I will someday struggle to let go of too. After we read the story I listened to the squeak as I sang "Jesus Loves Me" one more time, both girls singing along with me. As Jillian prepared to leave the room and go to hers for bed she suddenly asked, "Mom, can we keep the pillow?" And in that moment I really felt like she made it OK for me--what a brilliant idea. So we did. We kept the small little lumbar pillow that is covered in the same fabric as the chair, and that is something we will always have a spot for, somewhere in our home, to view as a symbol of these sweet, precious times.