There’s a door in our house that everyone keeps closed.
A bright hello that was never greeted, hanging on the front.
I picked this room because it had the most natural light. And I wanted my baby to bathe in it when she arrived. In my mind it was the dancing light of daydreams. Those magical slow motion memories. Something that you can see already but is untouchable. Literal magic.
Inside is all the stuff that was waiting for her. The crib her big brothers shared. It's what I planned the whole room around. A cactus print to match the mint green. My rose in the desert. Blooming into the summer, That never got to bloom.
The clothes I had finally started buying. Finally feeling close enough to feel safe. I didn't buy them for months after knowing she was a girl. I was so worried I would jinx it. But when I did, the feeling of buying those tiny outfits was pure joy. Each one I saw her wearing, us together. Me kissing her all over. Each one chosen for a season. Summer, winter, fall, spring. A first birthday tutu with pom poms between the tulle. Hung up in a closet, never to be worn.
All the baby shower decor and gifts from the day before, that a kind friend came and took down. I had taken a photo after everyone left that day. I thought, I will leave this all up till she comes home. One month. We only had to wait one month.
Her ultrasounds framed, and waiting to be replaced with her sweet face. I joked she was the most photographed baby. So many ultrasounds. I took the for granted. Seeing her wiggling inside of me. Seeing and feeling kicks at the same time. We were so close Anna.
I loved sitting in this room and rocking with my hand on my belly. Dreaming of her. The only video I have of her moving is right here. I don’t keep this door closed. I still come to this room. I touch the things I was dreaming of sharing with her. It’s all that’s left. And it makes her real. Some people grieve by shutting it all away. But I grieve remembering every detail. She was here, with me. This room is still ours.
with love, lissa