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.
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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.
ReplyDeleteSo 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!
ReplyDeleteI 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.
ReplyDeleteJust know I'm sitting with you, and thinking of you.