Friday, July 2, 2010

Andrew's Room

A few days ago I was cleaning the kitchen and I had a really strange desire to go into Andrew's room. I've kept it pretty much the same with a few additions. I added the prayer flag Corinne and the kids made for him on his 6 month birthday. His memory box is on the dresser. His quilt is on the changing table with his "feet" and his birth certificate. Basically the things I love on to make me feel closer to him again. I keep his room open and warm...I usually open his blinds in the morning and close them in the evening. I turn his little lamp on some nights when I want it to feel warmer. Its a peaceful place where I sit and cry for my boy. The other day, I hugged the little quilt my friends and family made for him on my blessingway...I wrapped this same quilt around him when he was dying. I cried all over it, but felt so wonderfully close to him at the same time. I am so thankful that I remembered to have Kent bring it with him to the hospital. I pray that Andrew felt all the love and warmth that went into that quilt just for him. I wonder if I'll ever use the quilt for my other children. Is that strange? Probably so. I went through all of his drawers pulling out the outfits that were sentimental in some way. The first little top I bought him at a garage sale when I still didn't know he was a him. The sweet little gown that Elise wore when she was only a day or so old that she so sweetly passed on to little Andrew. His little swimming trunks he was supposed to wear this weekend. A fully stocked little nursery for a boy who isn't here.

I sat in the glider looking at his scrapbook and cried for a long while. I've been pretty preoccupied with getting or not getting pregnant lately. I started thinking how, even if I do get pregnant again, this will never be okay. I'll always be this sad and empty in the Andrew corner of my heart. Oh, I'm not saying I won't ever be happy, but this part of my life will always be desperately incomplete and sad. I don't know if I'll ever hold another child, even if it's my own, without wondering and missing. I get so angry that THIS is the rest of my life.

Andrew, I miss you kiddo. You are my whole heart and, for that, I am grateful.


  1. I just totally understand. Losing a child is such a life-altering event, isn't it? Literally, the whole course of our lives have been permanently changed. I actually disassembled Addison's room shortly after she died. In my anger, I needed all the "useless baby stuff" gone--out of my house and out of my sight. It's now all in my in-laws' basement, and the room is again Calvin's rarely-used overflow playroom (most of his toys are in his bedroom). But I keep a box full of Addison's personal items in my closet, including a fluffy pink blanket we used for her (Calvin sleeps with her other pink blanket). I snuck into the closet the other evening and shed a few tears into it. I realized it doesn't smell like her anymore. I am starting to forget some of her details. I closed my eyes the other night to "hold" her and it wasn't quite as clear as it was a couple of months ago. But that fact doesn't make me feel better--it makes me feel worse. I don't know the point of me going into all that was, other than to say I get it. And I'm right there with you.

  2. So sorry for your loss. Came upon your blog from the Stirrup Queens loss blogroll; I just lost my daughter one week ago today due to premature labor at 23wks into my pregnancy. I can already relate to many of the feelings you talked about, specifically if I will ever be pregnant again or ever hold a baby in my arms, it is so deeply saddening. So sorry you know these feelings all too well. Thinking of you!

  3. I love that you've kept Andrew's room intact and you can go there to sit with him. I turned Nevan's room into a sewing studio, and all of her stuff is in boxes in the corner behind a big screen. I remember how much fun it was to put the room together. I have her memory box on my dresser, but I don't visit it as often as I did. I'm starting to fully realize the reality of this loss too. We'll be missing our sweet babies forever. A piece of my heart is gone, and always will be.
    Just know I'm sitting with you, and thinking of you.