I must confess...
I am more prepared mentally, emotionally, and physically for this baby to die than I am for her to come home.
I know that sound morbid and sad, but that is my reality. That is the reality of many other mothers who have lost an infant. I mean I am ready; I know what outfit she would be buried in, I know that the cemetery has agreed to let her be buried with Sam if need be, I know the plaster impression kit I will bring to the hospital, I know who to call for pictures, I know what will happen as time goes on in the hospital, I know how it will feel to walk out with a box instead of a baby, and I know who I want contacted. Even though I know both a living and a dead baby experience, it's the worst experience that sticks with me. Don't get me wrong I remember what it was like to bring my daughter home, but not bringing my son home is more fresh in my mind. I know that there is no make up time with a baby that never comes home with you. I know that the hours spend with a still baby is precious and the only moments I will ever get. The moments that have to last me a lifetime.
With only weeks away I am finally making a conscious decision to "get ready" for this baby. It is crunch time. We may be meeting this baby in a bit more than 2 weeks if I induce. This has been really hard on me. I think and I am reminded of all the things I did leading up to Sam's birth. I did a ton of stuff for Sam. Every time I was out and about I was searching for cute little boy things, whether it was clothes or baby accessories. With this baby, I have steered clear of the baby section and try hard not to look at all of the newborn stuff. Maybe it is out of instinctive protection of my heart or maybe it is out of frugalness to not load up on things that may go to waste. In my leap of faith to "prepare" I have done things for her knowing it may be the only thing I buy/make for her.
A few weeks ago Michalina and I spent a while in Sam's bedroom just reading books, talking and playing. I don't know why, but it was something we did and enjoyed. I sat in the glider, in his room, for quite a while. I sat there and rocked staring at the crib filled with his clothes that were never put away, never worn. As I rocked it was apparent how comforting it was to be in his room, with his things, his stagnant dream. I was surround by Sam in a room he never was in. I knew then that I needed a room for this baby. Just in case she didn't come home, I would have a place, besides the mausoleum, to visit and be comforted by her.
So, it began.
I told my husband about my thoughts when he got home. Although it took some time we have been slowly moving things into and out of the rooms. We are keeping Sam's room and turning the office in to the new baby's room. Of course, we will be moving the crib, bookcase, and dresser into the baby's room. But nonetheless, Sam's room will remain the same. We are too attached to his room to paint over or wipe it clean. I remember spending hours painting his room and making sure it was just right of our first little boy that to remove that would be too much. We have been moving very slow at this. We have not yet put his clothes away and have not moved the crib. When we started moving things I took pictures and cried like a baby. It was hard to do. I felt like I was disappointing him, like I was forgetting him and moving on. Of course, none of that is true. I will never forget my first born son, I have not moved on. Sam is forever a part of my heart and my life, I am living not moving on.
Besides preparing a room for the new baby I have made some things for her. I had searched here and there for a cute outfit to put her in at the hospital and never had any luck. There was one that I liked I just couldn't bring myself to actually buy it. So....I have made two outfits so far. I will have to post the pictures when the second is completed-I have one thing left to do. I made these outfits knowing she may wear them once or multiple times. I have prepared myself for that mentally. I am content with that.
However, other than two outfits and a room transition started, I have nothing ready for her homecoming. I hope that I am frantic when we get home trying to figure out what to dress her in. I hope that all of Sam's diaper's and wipes will be used for her. I hope I will be able to set up the bassinet beside my bed.
But I know...
I have no control over her fate and the plan that waits.