As we begin the long, slow, arduous effort that is packing up to sell your house, I’m opening boxes and tubs that I haven’t seen in years. There is that glass amaryllis build forcer! And look, over there! It’s that Christmas wreath I thought I trashed.
If you know me by now, you probably know the hardest part- these bins in the attic. I went through the baby bins briefly, just before Elise was born, and took out all of the unisex clothing. I didn’t touch anything with tags. Those bins were never opened.
I literally pulled the tape off that wound this week, opening up lids of memories I’ve tucked away. They’re not his clothes, they never were. He never wore them. They were bought for him and he never used them, just like he had a life in my mind that he will never get the chance to live.
I wanted to take those clothes with us to the new house, not in case of another child (which by choice there won’t be), but because I have so few things that belonged to Henry. I stopped myself, though, as my husband told me that they weren’t ever his. He didn’t say this in a get-over-it way, but in a gentle way. He helped me say goodbye to these things that to some seem so insignificant but to me meant so much.
Not sure what I’m doing with his clothes. I’m thinking of donating them to women who have little boy rainbow babies, or consigning them and tucking the money away for Elise’s piggy bank, or a Hank’s Hope donation. I am no longer grasping at everything I can but holding tighter to things with more meaning, and that is a big step in my grief process.
Our new home won’t have had a room ready for my baby that never left the hospital. I’m bittersweet about leaving these walls behind. This is where I prepped and prepared, cried and screamed, and then finally brought home a tiny baby girl and went through every emotion on the postpartum spectrum.
I’ve written before about how memories for me are tied to places, and it’s hard for me to leave some things behind. Funny enough, I’m ready to leave this house, and I’m ok with taking the memories. I still can’t do that to the Avalon house, but I can now. I’m ready to pack and move.