I have to put away reminders.
The bottles she will never use are stashed beneath the cupboard. I cried. I cried but I did it.
The blankets I never swaddled her in are being put inside a box.
The crib will be disassembled and stored away.
The nursery decorations taken down.
The clothes in the dresser that would have been hers, still soft and sweet smelling of detergent, will have to be stowed away, they would have only fit her for a while, but now they only remind me of how small and fragile she was.
The diapers she'll never wear, the baby car seat where she'll never sit, and the monitor that was supposed to measure her heart and breath (now too late) are all to be returned.
The flowers from her service, wilted, will be tossed.
Reminders of what should have been.
I will have to convince myself that all these reminders are only things. I am not putting away the memory. I am not storing her in a box to take out on occasion. I am not hiding them from the world or forgetting them in the attic. She moved in me for a while. She created in me a dream of all the things she would have been. She grew and had a heartbeat. I loved her before I met her, I had dreams of holding her and rocking her and loving her even more, and now I have to put away the things she'll never need because she's gone. My heart hurts and I miss her. But they are only things. I tried not to cry today. It's not the pictures or the bear with the heart of my Gabbie that hurt. It's all the things she'll never have and never do, and never be, the dream of what should have been that hurt the most.
The bottles she will never use are stashed beneath the cupboard. I cried. I cried but I did it.
The blankets I never swaddled her in are being put inside a box.
The crib will be disassembled and stored away.
The nursery decorations taken down.
The clothes in the dresser that would have been hers, still soft and sweet smelling of detergent, will have to be stowed away, they would have only fit her for a while, but now they only remind me of how small and fragile she was.
The diapers she'll never wear, the baby car seat where she'll never sit, and the monitor that was supposed to measure her heart and breath (now too late) are all to be returned.
The flowers from her service, wilted, will be tossed.
Reminders of what should have been.
I will have to convince myself that all these reminders are only things. I am not putting away the memory. I am not storing her in a box to take out on occasion. I am not hiding them from the world or forgetting them in the attic. She moved in me for a while. She created in me a dream of all the things she would have been. She grew and had a heartbeat. I loved her before I met her, I had dreams of holding her and rocking her and loving her even more, and now I have to put away the things she'll never need because she's gone. My heart hurts and I miss her. But they are only things. I tried not to cry today. It's not the pictures or the bear with the heart of my Gabbie that hurt. It's all the things she'll never have and never do, and never be, the dream of what should have been that hurt the most.
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