This is the room where my baby boys slept in their cribs and eventually shared bunkbeds and giggled well into the night.
This is the room our foster child has been sleeping in for the past year and a half...but not naps, that happens in the stroller.
This is the room where we spent hours putting our Little One to sleep–from holding hands to slowly inching towards the door a little more each night. It took six months for the anxiety of night time to turn into a pleasant bedtime routine for all involved.
This is the room where we we read "That's not my monkey" enough to last a life time.
This is the room where I wrapped up our Little One in a towel after a bath and cuddled together like a swaddled newborn babe and mama.
This is the room where we prayed for all the loved ones in our Little One's life. We thanked God for all of our friends and family and asked that each night and the day to follow would be a good one.
This is the room where our bedtime routine morphed into including our Little One saying "Everyone loves me. I'm special. Everyone needs to be kind to me."
This is the room where I pack up our Little One's clothes and toys...those cute summer shirts and shorts that remind me of summer fun at the parks and playgrounds and the swimsuit that brings back the memories of firsts– jumping into the outdoor pool and playing on a sandy beach.
This is the room that may be quiet for a while. We have a toddler bed, twin bed, crib, or bunkbeds all ready to go for our next foster child–we don't know the age or gender or when, but our kids are eager to meet their newest sibling.
This is the room where we will provide a safe night's sleep for another child while the memories of those that have been loved in this room will linger on forever.