Reclaiming

I have a room in my home that has experienced an identity crisis since the moment we built it.  It is a small loft at the top of our stairs that leads into our bedroom.  I'm bonded to this room because it is in many ways a reflection of my life at any given moment. It has been a place to work, to store unused items, even a home to the undesirable kitty litter box.  It has been a great many things, but now I've reclaimed it.

It is mine.

Reclaiming this room has been very therapeutic for me.  In the hours it took me to sort through all the items that were previously stored here (only to be compared to the amount of time it took me to collect all my craft supplies from the basement, closets, drawers, boxes, under my bed,) I had plenty of time to think.

Seven years ago, when I was a young (ha!) 38 years old, my husband and I sat in the room next to this one and decided that we would like to have another baby.  This was not a decision made on a whim.  It was one of those decisions that mixed incredible hope and excitement and an equal part of what-the-hell-are-we-thinking.  I can't describe it.  This is probably why I've never written about it.  There is no sense to it that any normal person could possibly understand.  It just is what it is.  (or was what it was)

It wasn't an easy proposition.  We knew there were many hurdles to overcome, the most obvious being the fact that we had made a permanent decision years ago to end future baby-making opportunities.  In the beginning, we thought we'd just try one procedure and then let it go at that. When that didn't work, we did it again.  And when that didn't work, we still didn't quit.  After three years, traveling to three states, a total of three surgeries, two hormone stimulations, and four procedures later. . .whew. . .we finally got a positive pregnancy test.

The road to that positive test was a practice in patience, determination, hard work, blind faith, and teamwork.  We held each other's hands and cheered each other on during some painful and difficult moments.  And holding that positive test in our hands and dancing around the bathroom, we could only say one thing.

We did it.

That was an incredible and very important moment in this story.  I will never forget how that moment felt.  None of the pain that followed could ever take that from me.  We won the lottery.  Sure, it was stolen from us a few months later, but we WON the lottery.  :-)

When we were told at our second ultrasound that our much wanted baby had died, we were devastated.  We decided to wait things out and have another ultrasound a week later just to be sure.  And then, believe it or not, we went to this ultrasound and saw a tiny baby with a heartbeat.  An identical, but much smaller twin was still hanging in there.  It had not been seen on the earlier ultrasounds because it was smaller and shared the same sac with the other twin. But it was there. And this baby had a beating heart.

That moment was equally incredible.  It was like life had been handed back to us.  When we walked to the car, we could not stop laughing.  I mean, who has a story like THAT?  We had hope and that was good.  As a nurse, I knew this baby had a slim chance at best.  But hey, we'd already beaten the odds, so maybe, just maybe. . .

We had another two weeks with this baby.  At that final ultrasound, we knew it was over for good.  It was very sad and difficult, but I also remember feeling incredibly grateful.  Every moment of that pregnancy was a gift to me.  And I may never fully understand why I was meant to have the experience I did, but I know there was a purpose to it.  I don't regret a single second of it.

Back to the room. . .

During our baby-making venture, one of my montras was, "There are many ways to give birth."  This is very true.  We give birth everyday we have an idea, try something new, learn something about ourselves, live our lives.  This desire to create can be expressed in many ways.  All I need is a fertile environment, and trust me, I'll give birth.  And it is usually just as messy.  (Sorry to put that image in your head, but I couldn't resist the connection.)

This room was painted green and yellow to match curtains I bought before I got pregnant.  They had green frogs on them.  This room would have been our baby's room.  I think that is why it has been so neglected.  To turn it into a useful space would be to admit that it would never be what I had dreamed it would be. But now, it is mine. 

A place to make things, to create.  A place to remember.  A place for jars from Caitlin's wedding.  Not a place for the kitty litter.  

A place for unfinished afghans and a very cool knitted purse that I haven't figured out how to finish.  A place for too much yarn.  You can blame my Mamaw for that.  She never saw a skein of yarn or a piece of fabric that wasn't worth buying.  I am my grandmother.  Her picture is on the wall.  Her sewing box is next to the rocking chair.  Her bears are on the dresser.  Her blue suitcase is under the window.  She is here with me. And so are my babies.

Here's to reclaiming unused space.  And making room for memories and that deserve their place on the shelf.

Have a great week!