When my husband and I finally had an offer accepted on a home, we were elated.
The timing was seemingly perfect. We were set to close in early November, and baby number two was due in January.
But moving isn’t easy, and moving while seven months pregnant with a very active 2-year-old in tow is definitely not for the faint of heart.
More than the physical toll it took — because I wasn’t exactly hauling heavy boxes — I was taken aback by the surprising emotions that came along with a move less than eight miles from our old place.
Saying goodbye to the place where we became a family of three
Our two-bedroom rental apartment in a neighborhood we loved was perfect for us until it wasn’t.
In that apartment we lived in for three years, we found out we were expecting. Welcomed our sweet baby boy. Spent many sleepless nights rocking an infant. Played on the floor for hours. Logged thousands of miles of stroller walks on the trail behind the building. Watched our son take his first steps. Pushed him on the swings for the very first time at a local park. Celebrated his first — and second — birthdays.
When I got pregnant again, it was time to make a move.
We ramped up our search for a larger space, and, thankfully, the house hunt took only a few months. We fell in love with a home in a neighborhood about 25 minutes away.
The house had everything we had been looking for: an extra bedroom for the new baby, a backyard with a swingset, and plenty of room for our growing family. As an added bonus, we were much closer to both sets of grandparents.
We were delighted when our offer was accepted. It felt like a huge sigh of relief after rejected offers — and a ticking countdown clock to baby girl’s arrival.
The weeks between our offer being accepted and settlement were a whirlwind of logistics: paperwork, hiring movers, decluttering the apartment, and packing boxes, while trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy for our toddler.
Moving day arrived, and before I knew it, I was tucking my son into his familiar crib in an unfamiliar room.
We had done it. We had finally found our forever home.
I cried at the sight of my old grocery store
So why wasn’t I deliriously happy?
Chalk it up to pregnancy hormones, or maybe something deeper — once the dust settled, the emotions around this big life change hit me like a truck.
It was mostly the little things that struck me — like finding myself in tears driving past the grocery store I frequented weekly for years on a trip back to the old neighborhood.
Or wrestling over how to word the two-week notice email to my toddler’s day care — the first people we had ever entrusted with his care besides family.
Or finding new places to go and activities to do with my toddler after developing a familiar routine and places we loved in our town.
It takes a long time to feel settled — and that’s OK
The months of November and December flew by in a flurry of unpacking, painting, assembling furniture, holiday shopping, and magic making — oh, and continuing to grow a human.
Snuggled up on the couch in February with a newborn (and often snowed in — it was a very snowy winter in Pennsylvania), I felt like I could finally take a deep breath.
I had been moving so fast as we parents often do. And now that things felt more still — physically and mentally — I could start to really process this major life change.
Eight months after our move, we’re still settling in, and the emotions from the move are lingering. I’m not crying at the grocery store these days, but I certainly look back wistfully at times on the memories and milestones we made as a family in our old home.
While I wish I could speed up the process, realistically, I know it takes time to truly feel settled. To find and build community. To get to know our neighbors. To develop new routines. To find new schools, new people, and new places we love.
In the meantime, though, while I allow myself to feel my feelings, I look forward to making new memories and marking meaningful milestones here in our new space as a family of four.
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