It took me three pregnancies to realize it, but nesting is real. The first time around, I painted the second bedroom of our East Village rental with low VOC paint in one day and then slowly furnished and decorated Bear’s nursery over the course of 5 or 6 months. When I found out I was pregnant with my second, I bought a new bassinet and a second crib that converted to a full bed and had it built in a spare bedroom. Bear didn’t move into his new “big boy room” until Luke was 5 months old.
I didn’t change the nursery, save for switching out the monogram above the crib. The only “nesting” I did in the final weeks was nag my husband to put Bear’s old bassinet stand back together, wash the new bassinet linens, take the infant car seat up from the basement, and move some of our newborn / 3-6 month clothes into our own closet.
This past weekend, I did not leave my house from Friday afternoon until Monday morning. I had been having contractions during the week, and my doctor advised me to rest and drink more water and “take it easy.” I’ve been having this overwhelming feeling that my daughter is coming sooner rather than later, and I started to have anxiety over the fact that Luke (baby #2) is still in the nursery. He is a lighter sleeper than Bear, who truly lives up to his name because he sleeps and naps like one. I started spinning thinking that my daughter would wake Luke up at night and that he has to be moved into the bedroom next to Bear’s now. I hunkered down and made it my mission to do little else (aside from take care of my two boys) other than ready his bedroom (I pulled the trigger on Luke’s new crib and dresser during Black Friday weekend) and move his clothing to his new room and move my daughter’s clothes into the nursery. I had to finish their rooms.
The urge has been overwhelming, and it’s overtaken everything else on my agenda. I hadn’t written, been the the gym, shot new content photos, or socialized with anyone other than my husband, kids and mom since Friday morning. It probably doesn’t help that we are living in freezing conditions over here, but even still: looking back at how I spent my weekend my behavior seems irrational. That being said, completing 80% of my nest has brought me some semblance of peace. Even though I can admit it seems extreme, the thought of stopping now makes my skin crawl. It must be finished. It feels like almost nothing else matters.
I have never felt such an animal instinct in my life, and I am wondering if any of you have. Please let me know in the comments! In the meantime, please excuse my semi-absence as I make my way out of this nesting hole.