I'm in the final countdown. Less than a month to go now until baby Matthew is to be delivered safely in my arms. The panic is not really subsiding with that information. In fact, we're adding layers.
I'm in a nesting panic.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who has regrets from their angel-pregnancy. My harshest one? I never made a space for Carpenter in our home. That gnaws at me every day of my life. That guilt. Did he feel unwelcome in my home? Were we not ready for him? Did he feel less wanted than his sister? How could I let him down like that?
I did have the whole thing planned out. Carpenter was named for his great-grandfather, a SeaBee in the Navy, so everything was going to have a naval theme to it. I had picked out awesome propaganda posters from WWII calling young carpenters to serve their country by building bridges. I had decided to spell his name out in semaphore over the crib.
But none of that ever got done.
I got hung up waiting for my sister to come get the guest bed that she swore she wanted. (A year later I was still waiting.) So without space to work, I just kept putting decorating on the backburner.
And I'll never live that down.
But for the past few weeks, I've been in crazy-nesting-mode. Slightly insane with the need to have everything completed and perfectly so, in order to provide a home for Matthew. Every decision has been agonizing, and I've stressed myself to tears. During last night's sob-fest, Mike finally put what I am going through in plain English: I'm nesting for two.
I know it's insane. But I'm pouring my
heart and soul into making just the right space for BOTH our sons to
call home. Half of everything in that room represents Carpenter in some
way. Half of that room is his. That is not the nursery. It's not
Matt's room. It's the "boys' room." And no matter how much work I put
into it...no matter how perfect...I'll still never be happy with it.
Because for at least one boy, it's too little too late.
The guilt will probably never go away. But today, right now, I know I'm doing my best to make up for my regrets in some small way. And that's what surviving babyloss is all about. Getting up each day, recognizing that the pain and hurt are still a part of you, and accepting that the only response to that is to keep moving. Carry your baggage, but keep walking.
Today I will show my son he is wanted and loved in our home, now and forever.