I put them away. Safely tucked them away within reach. I know I'll be needing them sooner rather than later but just not yet.
Baby things. Cute and soft and lovely. They were mine. Things I wore or used. A yellow velour jumper that I remember dressing my dolls with when I was a kid. Tiny satin baby booties and a pink baby brush and comb.
I put them away. And that makes me sad. But not the kind of sad I was before. Before it was an overwhelming grief that threatened to break my last thread of strength. In some ways, it did. There's a part of me that was lost with our baby and I'll never get that back. But slowly, I've been filling that hole with somehting I didn't think I'd find again: Hope
Someone on a forum I'm on mentioned a great book that she had picked up at the library. reading her post, I thought to myself, "Duh, what an idiot, why didn't I think of checking out the library for info?" I'm an avid reader, so why didn't I think about doing so? Who knows. Grief spins you in weird directions. So one weekend, my husband and trecked down to the Central Branch of the Vancouver Public library, and I went hunting.
4 books later, I held in my hands something I had lost in this crazy situation: Control. I know that when you welcome a new life into your own, you have to give up that control. I just didn't think I'd be here, the Survivor of two miscarriages. But this book has given me some of that control back. I'm still trying to figure out where I'm at but I do know it'll get there.
R and I have started counselling and that is a huge step forward. Hopefully we'll come out of this stronger than before. Ready to take our life back in our hands and leap forward...together.