The little pictures, they creep up and surprise me here and there.

For the last several years, I’ve pictured myself dropping Gabe off at kindergarten and returning home to my childless abode.  When I got pregnant and my due date was in November, I adjusted the picture.  I’d be dropping Gabe off at kindergarten heavy and pregnant, returning home to my not-for-long childless abode to prepare for the arrival of the new baby.  When we lost Mara, I had to face this picture right away.  Our school deposit was due that same week as my surgery but I was in no shape to deal with it and had to call them and ask for an extension, which they graciously granted.  I edited that picture, returning it back to the original image which involved me dropping off Gabe and returning home to my childless abode.

I dreamed of being hugely pregnant at Gabe’s 6th birthday party, a party which we would have had to have early in November so as to avoid conflicting with any potential baby arrivals.  I pictured our photographs and a last celebration with only the three of us.  It will be just the three of us, but there will be no baby who will be imminently arriving.

I dreamed pictures of bringing a newborn babe to Thanksgiving dinner, just as I did six years ago.  And I dreamed of having a tiny, still-squishy newborn on Christmas morning, the best present I could ever have asked for.   When I miscarried, one of my first thoughts was of the holidays, and how different they were going to be from what I had envisioned.  They’ll be wonderful, but a piece will be missing.

I thought I had rooted up all the pictures and replaced them with different ones.  But I’m finding my hopes and desires die slowly because they pervaded the crevices of my mind, infusing it with the promise of dreams come true.

I had forgotten one particular picture, as I’m sure I’ve forgotten many others.  This one, about Pennsylvania, caught me unguarded.  I was rehearsing our options for things to do during the day while Tahd works and we roam the countryside.  One thing I remembered was a delightful set of outlet stores nearby.  I’ve visited these stores before and have come home with scads of bargains to spruce up my home.  I immediately got excited and started thinking of which day during the next two weeks we’d schedule our visit, remembering how I’d been looking forward to this Pennsylvania trip for months because it would afford me the opportunity to go to the Pottery Barn Kids outlet and look for cute, inexpensive nursery decor.  And then I remembered.  No nursery supplies needed.  The baby is gone.

I need a new picture.

As I navigated my way through the maze, I felt a small but insistent voice.  Over and over again, it said one thing. “Heidi!  Decorate the nursery.”

Decorate the nursery, I thought?  But I don’t want to be the crazy infertile woman, the one who subscribes to pregnancy magazines and collects life-sized baby dolls and has a nursery in her home and rocks her “babies” in the chair.  I don’t think I live in Fantasyland as far as our infertility is concerned, and I don’t want to take up residence there!  But I couldn’t avoid the sense.  “Decorate the nursery.”

It was about 1:00 AM so I bedded the thought by telling myself that if I sense it again, I’ll know it’s something I’m supposed to do and will do it, no matter how crazy it makes me look.  For now, though, it’s just something I’ve observed – a sense that I should decorate my nursery.  Maybe the thought came from my own heart, a heart desperate to prepare a nursery for a baby I still hope to have.  Maybe I’m going crazy (although I don’t think so).  Maybe I need a nursery to fulfill the next stage of my grieving process – maybe I need to feel like I’m giving Mara a home.  Maybe there is a divine act of obedience in which I am supposed to engage.  Maybe there will be a baby to fill the empty crib at exactly the right time.  I just don’t know, so I’m waiting to figure it out.

But I keep wondering.  Which picture is going to surprise me next?

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  1. Wow…those pictures do creep up on you…my picture was bringing home a newborn right before Christmas…figuring I would ask to be induced so I wouldn’t risk ruining Santa for Builder Boy…it is so hard to slapped with the unexpecteds. If you feel you need to decorate, then do it. I certainly understand that sense or feeling you can get that you are being asked to do something.
    .-= RenovationGirl´s last blog ..Sunday Night Blues =-.

  2. It’s so hard … my heart is heavy for you. (((hugs)))

  3. We only had a week or 2 to daydream, but even in that short time I had formed some pictures too. I still have a crib set up in my house and Elise has been out of it for 4 years now…so I guess if you are crazy, I am too!

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