That was the sound of silence last night as the Dad and I turned in.
You see, I unplugged the lil' dude's white noise machine, and shut down the baby monitor.
The more weekends I spend with my big little girl, the more I realize I can let go of some of her baby things.
Like, her bumpers. Highchair. Baby monitor.
And so on.
The white noise machine was a gift, and we've used it since the lil' dude was about 11 days old. It became part of our bedtime routine; these last few months the lil' dude punched the fat 'power' button on her own and said, noise.
And the baby monitor has sat on my night stand since a week or so before the lil' dude's arrival. It's become a permanent part of the bedside table landscape; alarm clock, reading lamp, lace doily that belonged to my great-grandma K., and Things I Want My Daughters to Know, by Alexandra Stoddard, and Charley Harper's Birds and Words, a framed picture of the Dad and I as babies, and the topper to our wedding cake.
As I reached for the lamp last night to welcome darkness, I instantly missed the glow and buzz from the monitor.
I wasn't the only one.
"I can't sleep," the Dad said.
"No?" I asked.
"I miss my babbling brook," he said, softly.
Because I confess. Even if the lil' dude was away for the night or week or what have you, we flipped on her noise machine and tuned in the baby monitor. So we could hear her noises and sleep her sleep.
It was a bold move on my part, this stowing away of the baby technology. But, her independence required it. There is no use in delaying the inevitable.
She'll still emit her noises and sleep her sleep, and I'll still know.
Because Mamas always do.