We have done the deed. As of two nights ago, and at just over six months old, little miss is no longer spending her nights swallowing up her parents' bedroom floorspace with her cot bed, but in her own, not-quite-finished nursery. Hubby and I knew the moment would come eventually, but unfortunately the transition ended up a month or two earlier than we'd hoped, born solely out of neighbourly necessity (those of you who know me well will know exactly what sorry state of affairs I'm alluding to here!).
In the lead-up to nursery night one I felt the expected mix of emotions. Excitement that little miss would now be sleeping in a tailor-made, less cramped space which, thanks to a recent ebay smash and grab, is starting to look more like a little girl's room than a blank-walled dumping ground. Bittersweet pangs that she would no longer be sleeping mere inches from her mummy, and that the bedtime lullaby will now be on a rocking chair rather than snuggled up in her parents' bed. Apprehension at how the switch would go, remembering how the first night in her cot bed produced a hyperactive and livid baby who somehow managed to traverse the vast mattress with her flailing limbs, ending up wedged and wailing in the top corner.
Speaking to other parents, it seems that the transition to the big girl's/boy's room provokes a range of reactions. Some parents seem to be on a countdown from day one to the time when they can put baby in their own bedroom and enjoy a night free of nearby grunts and grumbles, while others put it off until they're sharing sleep space with a toddler.
There are no rights or wrongs to what to do or how to feel, but suffice to say I found it an ordeal, with a few tears after lights off. Little miss, on the other hand, barely clocked any differences, settled quickly in her new surroundings (for the first night at least) and, aside from a brief bout of fussing at 2am, slept through happily. As I'm not ready to leave her alone yet (not least because the baby monitor's only just been ordered!) I joined her later for a sleepover, spending a slightly less peaceful night shivering on a pile of sofa cushions.
All in all, the first night was a success, albeit an emotional rollercoaster. I wish I could say the same for the second night, but that's another, sleep-deprived and sweary, story!