When The Nursery Becomes A Guest Room

Four years of motherhood, one very good mattress, and zero emotional preparedness

The old nursery is a guest room. I’m not crying, you’re crying.

So, McQueen turned four this week. FOUR. How strange time is — such a thief, happening all the while around us without us ever noticing. C.S. Lewis once wrote, “Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when we look back everything is different.” It’s been bouncing around my head for the past decade and a half. I know because a Timehop recently popped up from when I shared those words thirteen years ago… and somehow they feel even more true today than they did back then.

I blinked and the tummy time mat was replaced by a pile of monster trucks. The sink is less cluttered now because I packed away the bottle rack last month. We barely needed it anymore for my just-turned-four-year-old and almost two-year-old. I smiled at the freed-up counter space, but let out a big sigh of sad.

I have so many thoughts about this big birthday, which I’ll save for a day when I have the emotional capacity to really unpack them. For a night when my eyes aren’t burning with exhaustion. Will I ever not be tired again? Probably not — because when they’re old enough to want to sleep in, I’ll be wide awake worrying about teenage problems instead. If I’m not stressing about toddler milestones, I can always invent endless future “what if” scenarios. Have kids, it will be fun! You’ll never sleep again.

Speaking of sleep — and the passage of time — about a year ago when McQueen turned three, we moved him out of his crib and into his very own big boy bed. Sure, it’s about 52 inches long and half a foot off the ground, but it marked a huge step out of babyhood. He confidently insisted on an ocean-themed room, so an ocean-themed room he got: sea creature decals, a trippy nightlight with crashing waves, a sea creature bedspread, blue plexiglass floating shelves, nautical ombré blackout curtains, a stingray stuffie, and an oversized blue shark for company.

Sometimes lately I’ll glance into the former nursery for a split second after the morning rush or post-bath routine and feel completely disoriented by time. Wasn’t that the room I learned how to soothe a newborn in? The room where I sat in the rocker staring at a tiny face with two big blue eyes, meeting me at all hours of the night, needing me?

The year in his new room has brought both independence and constant reminders of how little he still is. The never-ending bedtime questions designed to stall — from “Why do cars not have noses?” to “How can God protect everyone at the same time?” The requests for just one more story. The sleepover negotiations where I camp beside his bed, or he moves onto the floor with his blanket and Ellie, his prized elephant. The kisses we blow to each other when I sneak out, my hand hovering over the door handle, his eyes fighting sleep as I slip away to clean, procrastinate, and mentally replay my entire day.

Meanwhile, his former nursery sat vacant. Safari decals half stuck to the walls. The watercolor animals I painted while hugely pregnant still hanging there quietly. It wanted to become a guest room, but I kept putting it off. Finishing it felt like admitting time had passed — that babies outgrow cribs and clothes and favorite stuffies. That this room had a new purpose now.

So for 2026, instead of unrealistic resolutions, I gave myself one manageable project: finally finishing the guest room — starting with the bed itself.

Because is there anything more important than a comfy place to crash when you’re staying at someone’s house? Aside from a solid cheese board, a cozy bed ranks pretty high. If I was going to do this, I wanted to do it right.

The problem is, I get decision paralysis with big purchases. Endless researching, comparing, wondering if reviews are written by real humans or AI bots. This is where Helix stood out to me. Their mattresses are built using real sleep data from millions of people and multiple in-home studies. After switching to a Helix mattress matched through their sleep quiz, 82% of participants reported more deep sleep — averaging about 25 extra minutes of deep sleep and nearly 40 more minutes of total sleep per night. In surveys of over 1,000 Helix owners, nearly 9 in 10 said they felt more refreshed or experienced less pain.

As a mom to two tiny, adorable, extremely early-rising humans — I found this very compelling.

I took the Helix sleep quiz (which is genuinely quick and easy, linking here for you to take) and it matched me with the Helix Midnight Elite. That made sense: I’m a major side sleeper and I’ve had intense postpartum night sweats. The mattress has a technology built in so that it’s cool to the touch and actually helps regulate temperature all night. Sign. Me. Up.

Fresh sheets? Check. Favorite pillow? Check. Silk pillowcase I’m convinced is solving all my problems? Check. Two exhausted parents? Check.

So what’s the verdict? I fell asleep almost instantly the first night. I loved the medium firmness and the high-density foam. It felt supportive but soft, like a cloud that knows what it’s doing. I have chronic lower back and hip pain postpartum and felt noticeable relief in my shoulders, hips, and spine.

The next night my husband (who’s recovering from shoulder surgery) looked at me and said, “Do you want to sleep on the new mattress in the guest room again?” Which honestly says everything. My mom also stayed over and told me, “I think that’s the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever slept on.” (She’s not sponsored — just brutally honest.) Night two was rough for her, but only because our dog Jax fully claimed the bed.

Change is hard. Life is busy. Projects get delayed. So yes — I still need to change the curtains, decide what belongs on the shelves, and take down the watercolor animals I hand-painted for my baby who is somehow turning into a big boy. But one step at a time. I’m feeling good about reshaping this room into a space meant to welcome guests…even if I still find myself crawling in there most weeks with McQueen or Baby McQueen when one of them has an off night, isn’t feeling well, or just needs a little extra love. And honestly, I’m not protesting the extra snuggles.

It’s a new year. A new space. A cozy place to land. A room meant for rest, for comfort, for recharging. I hope that’s what my home is for the people I love. And I hope, somehow, that’s the legacy I’m building too.