There’s a box by my bed and it says Next2me.

It came from a friend who got it from a friend. Six babies so far, I think, slept right next to their Mum.

It’s going up in the loft for when we find another Mum who wants her baby to sleep right next to her.

It’s reduce, reuse, recycle. It helps the environment and the pennies.

And yet it’s hard to say goodbye because my baby isn’t so next to me anymore.

I dismantled the Next2me 10 days ago so we had a familiar cot to take on holiday. You know, sleep training and all that.

It’s a pain to take down, and even more of a pain to put up. I spent a whole afternoon wrestling the damn thing, just a few short months ago.

My babies slept next to me for 8 months and 10 months. 18 months of them next to me and me next to them.

All those nights and all those mornings and all those hours awake somewhere in the middle.

And now, this box. I won’t be getting it out again.

And isn’t it silly to get so fixated on things when things are not people. But yet the people who wore the vests, who sat in the chairs, who played with the blocks, who chewed the teethers, who slept in the cot… they make the things so precious.

Just by using the things, looking at the things, being in the same space as the things. The people make the things so precious, because they are so precious.

So on the night of the first solo bedtime with two where I didn’t feel out of my depth (both down by 7.30 by the way), I’m so proud of my babies doing so well on their own.

But that box, that box. They’re not so next to me anymore.