House Tour Continues (Reagan's Room)

Almost the instant I saw the two lines on the pregnancy test, I started dreaming about the nursery. I spent hours, days, weeks surfing the internet for the cutest bedding, the safest crib, the coolest shelves, the neatest ideas. Even before I felt any little fluttering kicks or jabs, I knew what color the walls would be. After months of searching I found the crib bedding I wanted. I discovered the neatest shelves. I grabbed a deal of a chair. We meticulously tested and selected a crib at Babies R Us (still the most overwhelming store I've ever been to). Then we painted. Hubby took care of the dark purple-blue wall color. I spent evenings tracing circles and labeling each one with a post-it-note indicating color. Lime. Yellow. Red. Aqua. Aunt Amy came over and we carefully painted each and every circle by hand. As the days drifted by (how slowly they seemed to pass) little details were put into place. Curtains were hung. Bedding was washed and ready. Books were arranged on the shelves. Little outfits were hung on tiny hangers. It was, by all accounts, my obsession. Getting the nursery ready consumed my every thought.

All this work for a little baby who wouldn't care a BIT what color the walls were or that there were curtains hanging or that everything matched. And yet, it had to be perfect.

Maybe some people ~coughHubbycough~ thought I overdid it. Most people had the sense not to utter something so insensitive to an overly emotional pregnant woman. But even now, as I look back, I defend my meticulous planning. It was one of the things I had control over, which made me feel better. Beyond eating and resting there wasn't much I could do for that little baby. Picking out the perfect curtains was completely within my realm of control! And it was my way of celebrating and welcoming this new little life. On those days it seemed so hard to believe that we were going to have a baby, I could walk in the nursery and actually SEE some evidence of the impending arrival.

There are few rooms I really enjoy as much as Reagan's. And I like to think that as she rolls around in her crib, she likes to look at the bright colors filling her little world. When I change her diaper, she often reaches for the wall and touches it in amazement. Maybe she's wondering who on earth created this beautiful work!? So yeah, I like the room. And I hope she does, or will someday, too. We picked out stuff we love because we love her. I love that room.

But I love that room most now because of its resident. I love walking in the door in the morning and seeing that little head pop up and peer above the crib bumper. She sees me and greets me with an open-mouth two-tooth grin that makes the morning sunshine look dull.