Nesting Is One Heckuva Drug

Nesting is one heckuva drug. Like, what do you mean I can’t relax until the lamps match the drapes and the baseboards are meticulously wiped clean?

I’m biologically itching for perfection—and I can’t rest until I reach it.

There was a storm watch today, and I’ve never felt so viscerally compelled to nest—to spend obscene amounts of money getting this nursery right—and yet so anatomically depressed that I couldn’t. I fought against the abysmal urge to add everything on my Pinterest board to cart, to make a run for the closest HomeGoods, and purchase everything I envisioned for our unborn child. Arguably, this is harder to resist than the cravings. And this is coming from the feral woman who ordered pancakes at 1 a.m. and bit straight into a salami stick without breaking eye contact with the wall.

So, it’s safe to say this is going to be both a Substack-worthy diary entry and a totally satire piece on third-trimester nesting.

My curiosity has peaked. Pregnancy has made me notoriously aware of my appetites and urges, and nesting is unlike any of those gestational cravings.

I’m thirty weeks today and have been scouring the internet for the perfect branches to build my little nest.

For the record, my nesting instincts kicked in around week 26, when I was having recurring dreams of the baby arriving early and not being prepared for him. Some were dreams of diaper make-do’s; others were dreams of not having bottles and needing to adapt to breastfeeding. Then there were those nightmares of being postpartum at a relative’s or in-law’s house. Those were the dreams that broke me and catapulted us into our clean-and-furnish-the-apartment era.

On one hand, I’ve been deep-cleaning since the second trimester. My chronic OCD—obsessive cleaning disorder—is, as my French grandmother says, plus fort que moi. So when that bi-weekly urge kicks in to deep-scrub the shower, Lysol the back, front, and sides of the cabinets, and triple-mop the floors, I dedicate the whole day to it. Rest in pieces to my back.

I can’t even blame pregnancy for that one, but there is a deeper, unconscious urge that transcends my existing compulsions.

I started this piece a couple of days ago when “nesting” was limited to occasional registry packages from Amazon. We got so much essential furniture from family that the condo was, indeed, looking “prepared.” But on that storm-watch day, I told myself not another day—or paycheque—would go by without making this the perfect place for our newborn to arrive.

Alas, we are four HomeGoods trips, countless refunds and exchanges, and innumerable dollars spent later. Safe to say, the itch has been peeled, picked, and left a couple of scars on our chequing account. But... I look around and finally feel ready. The aesthetic matches. It smells good. And I even learned an expensive lesson when I dropped off all of last season’s décor at the local thrift store in favor of timeless, gender and season-neutral pieces.

I’m compelled to highlight that I picked pieces that both reflected our MCM-meets-Japandi taste and would be functional when the baby arrives. Small details aside—like the leather Kleenex covers and Shoji candle warmers I bought—I really did keep newborn life in mind. If I was going to indulge the nesting instinct, I wanted every purchase to earn its place.

We picked... Or, should I say... I picked:

• Battery-operated, touch-sensor lights with several dim settings. You know, for those middle-of-the-night diaper changes—but elevated beyond college dorm status.

• Smart light bulbs that can change the colour and setting of the lights. Because eggs are for eating, not for nightlights.

• A mini kitchen station for bottle washing. I genuinely couldn’t stand the wires and pipes from our MomCozy Washer and Sterilizer. Though it was a top registry item, I needed something that made the station look less like a baby’s house with parents and more like a parents’ home with a baby—and good taste.

The same goes for the “nursery,” for that matter. I’m air-quoting nursery because we have a one-plus-den apartment and, yes, I favored my breadwinning husband’s office over a baby nursery that may or may not be useful in the next nine months. So I decorated our master... masterfully, by opting for a functional space without sacrificing interior fashion.

I did receive the infamous diaper caddy, but couldn’t stand how much of the plot it lost. For that reason, I chose:

• To use the dresser for all of the most-used baby essentials. I organized it specifically with this in mind. I refuse to make the diaper caddy the star of the show, so diapers live on the left (right below the changing pad), with all the creams, powders, and sanitation needs in one place. Baby clothes are on the right. Whether it’s for boutique or blowout purposes, I can pick his outfit with one hand still on him. Then we work our way down to swaddles, nursing cloths, towels, and bedding.

• A behind-the-door (and unseen) organizer for all the emergency diapers and baby essentials that still require immediate access.

• A tiered medical box stored in our bathroom. This is for the nose suckers, baby drops, gas passers, and medications that can afford the extra thirty-second walk.

• And finally, I chose to use the diaper caddy... for me. Out of sight, but holding my diapers, padsicles, peri bottle, and possible hemorrhoid cream.

I ended up purchasing a lamp and picture frame on sale, a candle to hold a rosary, and a double-tiered jewelry stand that will act as a pacifier holder. (It’s all part of the vision.) It sits perfectly beside the changing pad without completely ruining the aura of our bedroom.

To be clear, I’ve purposely researched, chosen, and invested in statement pieces for the baby. And by that, I’m not referring to Tiffany & Co. silver spoon or Hermès receiving blankets. I’m talking about state-of-the-art gear for parenthood. That means opting for the washer-sterilizer instead of only the sterilizer. Soothing bassinets and baby swings that merge mechanics with la mode. Bottle warmers and milk coolers. Ergonomic carriers and a travel system that will still be useful in toddlerhood. Health and baby-care items that are minimalist because they’re so versatile. Bottles and pacifiers that have been trusted for decades, alongside new technology that is groundbreaking and parent-approved.

It’s not just about hanging curtains and decorating with teddy bears.

It’s about making the useful... beautiful.

And while nesting has been, in large part, registry items and last-minute HomeGoods returns, it’s also been about filling the gaps and optimizing our home so it feels both relaxing and practical for when baby arrives.

Not to mention the absolutely disturbing amount of time I spend on my hands and knees cleaning crown moulding and wiping undetected parts of our apartment.

Full disclosure: I spent a full hour vacuuming my lint catcher and Q-tipping the tiny holes in my washing machine yesterday because I physiologically couldn’t help myself. I then proceeded to work wall by wall, layer by layer, vacuuming and scrubbing every doorway and baseboard. I was ready to quit by the time I reached the living room, but persevered for another four and a half hours until I reached the back of every toilet and left every corner immaculately hygienic.

It’s safe to say that nesting is as much about building your nest as it is sharpening—and wiping—every branch clean.

So far, I’ve crossed these off my list... We’ll see where the next eight weeks take us.

• Wiping down every cupboard and drawer (will probably do this again closer to my due date).

• Vacuuming and scrubbing all the door trims, corners, and baseboards.

• Vacuuming behind, under, and inside the beds and couches.

• Washing, folding, and organizing the baby’s clothes, swaddles, cloths, towels, and bedding.

• Swabbing the tracks on all sliding doors and windows.

• Weekly chores and bi-weekly deep cleans.

I’ll wait until closer to baby’s arrival to:

• Wash and sterilize the bottles, pacifiers, and pump parts.

• Dust and vacuum the vents.

• Replace all the air filters.

• Clean out the fridge, appliances, cupboards, and drawers... again.

I purge and declutter more frequently than I pee these days (and that’s saying a lot). I’ve already swapped out a big portion of my closet for clothes that I’ll not only fit into but that fit the season we’re heading into. There’s nothing more satisfying to a pregnant woman than mostly—if not entirely—empty drawers and cabinets. It’s both chemical and compulsive, and I’m not even mad about it.

So! That’s about it in terms of deranged nesting stories. My mom and husband have witnessed the most unhinged of it all, but that’s a tale for subscribers only. We’re in the final countdown, and I can’t wait to bring this little guy into the world.

I’ve been mentally preparing just as much as I’ve been cleaning, self-caring, and meal-prepping these days. Somewhere between returning décor and folding newborn sleepers, I realized nesting isn’t really about creating the perfect home after all.

It’s about creating enough peace in our hearts and our home that, when life inevitably gets messy again, we have one less thing to carry. (Or at least until my OCD kicks in again.)

Maybe that’s why the urge feels so primal… and unexplainable. Birds don’t build nests because they’re decorating. They build them because their precious baby is coming.

And while I’ve joked about the cravings and compulsions, underneath it all is something miraculous: our precious baby is coming.

By God’s grace, in a few short weeks, this home won’t simply look different—it will be different. Every room we’ve prepared will finally fulfill its purpose.

Until then, I’ll keep feathering this little nest, saying my prayers, and trusting that the same God who is knitting our little boy together is also preparing our home—and us—to receive him.

Mama bird is ready.

The story continues. Join us for the final stretch.