the baby's things

Today, along with some grocery shopping, we went to Home Depot and got some plastic bins to store the baby items in.  We came home and while Ben put the groceries away I went upstairs to "start".  I snapped a few images with my crappy camera phone. 

For some reason I don't want to forget the way everything looked. 

After moving some things around and taking pictures, I started looking around for what I wanted to pack up first.

Ben was still downstairs.  I stood really still for a moment and stared at the crib.  For the first time today I was still.  I had spent so much time and energy preparing this little area of our home, and now I was about to dismantle it.  I was about to pack everything away and shove it into the back of my closet.  All these adorable things... all these bright wonderful colors that I could just stare at and stare at for days.  Colors designed to make you happy.

 
I crumpled to the floor slowly,  and shook with sadness and anger.  It has been 4 weeks since I gave birth... and it stings me like yesterday. 


All these things... the baby's things... each one designed to bring joy, comfort, perform a task.  Each one in quiet limbo. 

Ben could hear me crying and came upstairs to comfort me. 

"Just look at all these wonderful things.  I don't have a baby for them.  I'm so sad."

Some things sit right where we left them either in the haze of preparing for the birth or in the haze of preparing to try to create some memories with Wolfie in the NICU.  Some things are just hanging out because I arranged them there to wait for the baby.  Some things are just hanging around in limbo, still in packaging... having been intended to be opened by now under normal circumstances.

I had a good cry and with Ben's comfort and help, together we began the first part of packing things... slowly.  It isn't done yet, and I think we intend to do this slowly over the next three days. 

I've never been very attached to "stuff".  I'm surprised that all the "stuff" was able to upset me so much.  I just think it's what the things represent... what they remind me of.   Stuff is just stuff but your baby can never be replaced.  And the hopes, memories, expectancies, fantasies and dreams about your baby that are all attached to that stuff are important and hard to deal with too.  The stuff is nothing, but how it makes you feel is hard.

Even Hatchet knows this isn't just stuff.  She knows it's the baby's things. 

Part of this is a healing thing and part of it is a wounding thing.  Every day things change so much.  You'd think you'd get used to changes at some point but you never do, and every change is just as hard as the next. 

But someone you love comes and rubs you on the back until you catch your breath... and a slobbery dog licks your wet, teary cheeks and you take a deep breath... and everything will be OK. 

Slowly... slowly... everything will be OK.