by Cassidy Nunn | photo by Nunn Other Photography –
In early May we brought home the newest addition to our family: a beautiful baby girl. We were busy adapting to life as a family of four (six really, including our dog and horse who have very much been a part of the adaptation) when a seventh member unexpectedly joined our family: Baby Doll.
During those first few days at home with our newborn, our three-year-old daughter regressed to acting like a baby herself – I’d heard of this happening with older siblings so we weren’t too surprised. She’d curl up in the newborn’s bassinet (said newborn was never in the bassinet at the same time, I should add) talk in a “baby” voice, try to put on and wear the new baby’s clothes, play with the rattles and other baby toys, ask repeatedly for a soother, attempt to drink out of a bottle, request to be swaddled, and so on. She even came up with a name for her alter-ego baby: Sidia. “I’m not a big girl, I’m Baby Sidia. Babies can’t talk!” she’d chirp back at us if we asked her a question and we’d been met with silence from our normally very chatty girl.
Then after a few days of settling into life with a newborn sister, my eldest suddenly latched onto her one doll toy. My parents had gifted it to her years ago and not once had she ever shown any interest in this doll. Her horse toys had always been her favourites, but suddenly, Baby Doll appeared as the new chosen one. Our three-year-old had transformed from Baby Sidia into a mother. Anytime I had to sit on the couch to feed our newborn, she’d rush over to sit beside me and hold her Baby Doll, burp her and rock her tenderly in her arms. If our newborn was being swaddled for bedtime, Baby Doll needed to be swaddled as well. Diaper changes, you guessed it: Baby Doll had a diaper change too. Our house became littered with diapers (clean) from Baby Doll’s various changes. Our newborn’s clothing baskets were raided so that Baby Doll could be dressed up multiple times a day.
One afternoon I found Baby Doll wrapped in a receiving blanket in my daughter’s bright red, toddler-sized wheelbarrow in my room. My eldest came running in, finger pressed to her lips, shushing me. “Baby Doll’s sleeping!” she whispered before running back down the hallway to our living room. I closed the bedroom door and went back to my perch on the couch, my own baby fast asleep in my arms. Suddenly, my eldest shouted at the top of her lungs “CRY! CRY! CRY!” and went racing into the bedroom. She reappeared, rocking Baby Doll in her arms, comforting her with coos and gentle pats. She spent the rest of the afternoon rolling the portable “crib” back and forth from room to room; when it was time for bed that night, the wheelbarrow crib had been lifted into her own bed, mimicking how we’d set up the newborn’s bassinet in our own bed. My eldest sobbed when I gently told her that unfortunately, the wheelbarrow couldn’t stay in her bed overnight as a) it was a safety issue and b) even if I had allowed it, there wasn’t enough room for her to fit in beside the wheelbarrow.
Baby Doll has continued to accompany us on almost every stroller walk; she’s ridden through the neighbourhood in the basket of the Strider bike, she’s been rocked back and forth in the baby swing and gone for a ride on the rocking horse; she’s even slept on our deck when she went “camping” for one night.
While it’s been an adjustment adding a new member to our family and there’s been a wide range of emotions, Baby Doll has played an important role in helping to ease this transition (as well as provided daily comic relief). I’m certain her adventures will continue to entertain us all and serve as a constant reminder, for better or for worse, that my actions as a mother are being constantly watched and now mimicked!
