So today I entered that room for the first time in almost a year. We needed a place to store the countertops we bought today since we’ve begun gathering materials for the kitchen remodel. That room was the only place we could put them but that room had become storage for anything and everything baby related from nursery decorations to stuff we were saving to pass on to our future children (with a dash of extra needles and fertility supplements included). We had to move some boxes to make room and while looking at the stuff in the boxes I was overwhelmed with grief. The stuff in the boxes felt like it had belonged to someone who had died rather than someone who had never existed. Just being in the room, looking at the room and remembering how I used to look at the room (planning where to put a crib, etc) was hard. When the work was finished we talked briefly about our feelings associated with being in that room and, instead of crawling into bed and spending a week there feeling sorry for myself, I went to the gym. And that, my friends, is progress. And I am thankful for it.
P.S. I told Jack we should pay my sister 50 bucks to clean the room out and throw that stuff away, while we went away for the weekend, but he insisted we do it ourselves and deal with our demons. I think my way sounded more fun 😦