Nest.

Eddie has always had a lot to say.  Not a day or a two went by in the NICU when one of his nurses would tell us about Eddie's penchant for screaming during his cares (cares are what they refer to in the NICU when the nurses take babies' temperatures, weigh them, change them, etc).  When he came home, he continued to scream during his diaper changes and his baths.  And we expected as much.  What we did not expect were his other noises, or what we lovingly refer to as his "chattering."

Rob and I first encountered Eddie's chattering almost immediately.  During his first night home, we went through our standard motions of getting ready for bed and then we carefully brought Eddie's bassinet into our room.  We could hardly contain our excitement as we readied him for bed, knowing that at last, we got what we had been craving for two long months.  Eddie was home, with us, and in the same room.  We no longer had to rely on calling his nurses throughout the night to get news and updates.  He was right there and under our roof.  But even though we were excited we were also understandably nervous.  He would be undergoing an enormous transition that night; sleeping in a new room, in a new bed, and adjusting to new sights and sounds.  Up until then he lived in the hustle and bustle of the hospital and even though there were moments of quiet and darkness, most of his sleeping took place in a lit, noisy room.  Would he be able to sleep peacefully in our house?  Would we be able to sleep at all?

We kept a lamp on in our bedroom that night.  We figured that it might be harder for him to sleep in the pure darkness since he was accustomed to light.  We also had a white noise machine on in his bassinet to break up the quiet of our house.  I do not remember when we tried to officially go to sleep but I know that regardless of when we tried that we did not succeed.  Although we were exhausted, we began to notice an uncommon amount of noise coming from inside Eddie's bassinet.  He grunted.  And then he gurgled.  And then he babbled and groaned and just when we thought he had settled down he would start again.  And on the rare occasion that he stopped and drifted off to sleep we grew nervous that he had stopped breathing, causing one or both of us to check on him in a frenzy.

We did not wise up and put him in a different room for a couple of days.  When we did, he did not go far and even then, we put a monitor next to him.  But as the weeks passed, our nerves subsided and we trusted his progress.  With each new ounce he became stronger, healthier, and appeared less fragile.  Eventually we removed the monitor from his bassinet, moved him a bit further away from our bed, and Rob and I stopped sleeping in shifts.  And as Eddie grew, his chatter lessened and his sleep became more restful.  And now, he is almost sleeping through the night.

So with much pomp and circumstance, Eddie was introduced to his nursery this past Tuesday night.

Up until this week, his room was not much to look at.  It had been a depository of Henry's belongings since we moved in last year and neither of us liked to spend much time in it.  But once we learned of my pregnancy we began to daydream of the changes we would make to it - where the crib would go, what pictures we would hang and where.  Eddie did not give us a chance to prepare his room ahead of his birth and life was too crazy to put it together while he was in the NICU.  And so he had to wait five whole months to get into his own room and into his "big boy crib."

I know that there are certainly fancier nurseries in the world, but his is one that is filled with sentiment.  Not many of the decorations, books, toys, and clothes were given to him directly but they are now his and he uses them and fills them well.  Sometimes I walk into his little room and my heart catches in my chest: Henry's crib is no longer empty.  His diapers that were once packaged and new are now being used; his onesies and overalls from Baby Gap are being worn; and his hedgehog mobile that we hung two nights before he passed away now keeps watch over his little brother.  The toys and mementos that were once his and only his are now brother's, and what were once painful reminders of a life cut short are now evidence of one being lived.

It has been a long time coming, but I think Eddie likes having his own little space to chatter in.  And I know that we like having him in it.

Last.

Last month, we went into a building and walked out as the owners of our first house.  We nervously walked into the title company that day fully aware of the importance of the decision we were making.  But above all else, we walked with excitement.  Like most of the other "big" things in our marriage, purchasing our first house was a process.  We did our homework and conducted an exhaustive, exciting search that took us into houses of every shape, size and condition.  While I daydreamed about throw pillows and glossy floors, Rob habitually checked websites and databases so that we could weed out the homes that were either too big, too small or too expensive.  And finally, just before we were about to take a break from searching, we found a place that met our most important criteria.  We found a place that has just enough charm and space to be our first house. 

Technically it has only been over a month and a half since we got the keys but in many respects, it seems like we have had it much longer.  We have not moved in yet but have been busy putting as much "sweat equity" that we possibly can into this house to help it reach a small portion of its potential.  The first order of business was to replace and re-key the door.  Rob then removed the storm door (this is an outdated picture, the white door is now gone) and we unceremoniously tore out the carpet (goodbye beige shag - hello, hardwood!).  We updated some of the electrical wiring, have had the hardwood floors finished and are working on painting the interior.  Much has been done, but there is still much to do. 


Now we are at the point where it is safe to start carefully packing up our belongings to prepare for our new adventure.  So last week we revisited the contents of a blue steamer trunk.  From the outside, the trunk is unremarkable save for its nostalgic robin-blue color.  But an inside look of this trunk reveals hundreds of cards, several carefully-packed hand-knitted sweaters, souvenirs from around the world and an assortment of tiny blankets.  The monetary value of these items may not be great, but this unassuming blue trunk is where we keep Henry's keepsakes and everything in it is invaluable to us.  Although we have been putting things into this trunk for the past year and a half, we have not spent a lot of time dwelling on it.  Until now.  Since we are moving on to a new space and a new place for memories we thought it would be fitting to evaluate the precious items within it.  

My senses seemed to be heightened as I sorted cards, hats, onesies and stuffed animals into piles.  It was not easy to be confronted with these special things.  Yet in a way, I enjoyed the sensation of fingering Henry's outfits and smelling his blankets; items which will be forever associated with him, his brief life and his ongoing memory.  I took great care in organizing and arranging the piles within the trunk to ensure that nothing would get disrupted or broken in the move ahead.  My hands seemed to be in agreement me, as if they knew that the things that I was sorting and looking over were fragile and special since my movements were slower and more deliberate.  And now that I think about it, in a way, it feels like I handled these trinkets and clothes the way that I would care for Henry if he were here.  That I would be cuddling and caressing his skin rather than his shoes which have yet to be worn. 

I was and am grateful that Henry even has a trunk-load full of things that we consider to be his.  I gratefully think back to baby showers which gave me opportunities to fall in love with the tender presents I was given.  I treasure the memories I have of receiving such gifts and immediately attaching them to our son.  I vividly remember wondering when Henry would be old enough to wear the bow ties, sweater vests and booties that we were so graciously given.  And I am now beginning to understand the wisdom in a mother's desire to ritualistically nest for her little ones.  I think of the days that I spent feverishly cleaning, washing and arranging to make things perfect for little Henry's debut.  Those times are so important to me, more so now than ever before, because I know that I prepared for him as best as I could with the information that I had at the time.  And that if he ever would have come home with us, he would have had a beautiful room to call his own.


Last night we officially packed up the rest of Henry's nursery.  Up until yesterday, we had left his crib, changing table and little dresser intact because it was too painful to think of packing up a room so precious immediately after his death.  I suppose that if one positive thing came out of boxing up all of his things it was our recognition that we had reached another milestone in our grief and understanding of this process.  That although we still felt a dull ache in our hearts as we looked around at the things that have never been used, that we were able to pack box after box of new diapers, baby lotions and  pacifiers without feeling completely decimated and destroyed.  I wanted to sob aloud.  I wanted to lose myself within that room and spend hours touching, smelling and crying over everything within it.  If Rob had not been around to provide me with strength and peace I just might have let myself stay in that room forever.  But we have been weathering this storm for seventeen months now, and this unfortunately, was just another aspect of it.  

So tomorrow I will paint, pack and not be afraid to let my hands get dirty in building new, happy memories.  I will weed our new yard and water our new grass and I will try my best to keep looking forward because thankfully, I can always look back. 

Lit.

It is already the middle of January and each day, March 2nd gets a little bit closer. I am now 33 weeks pregnant and although he cannot tell me so, Sprout has become quite accustomed to his cozy amniotic home. His frequent flips, flops, and kicks continue to highlight my day and constantly remind me that in just a matter of weeks we will finally be able to meet him. (Speaking of which, the mystery of his due date is quite exciting. Sure, he's due on March 2nd but he could earlier. Or later. I love surprises.)

As his mother, I cannot help but marvel over Sprout's growth. We first saw him at an ultrasound when I was just eight weeks along - when he truly was nothing more than a "little sprout." Since then we have had three more ultrasounds and have been amazed to see him form into a baby. I am only starting to comprehend the joy each parent must feel when their child is born; when they are able to meet each other face to face.

You can imagine that as new parents Rob and I have been experiencing a mixture of emotions. Right now we have both been happily caught up in the all-things-baby. On January 1 we made big steps to feather our nest and put Sprout's crib together. This simple piece of furniture has made his imminent arrival all the more real and now we are beginning to accept the realities that will come with parenthood. I anticipate sleepless nights, early mornings, and many, many, diaper changes. Above all though, I admit I nervous about the guesswork that accompanies a newborn.

Thankfully, I do not have to combat my fear on my own. Rob and I both have been catching up on our baby literature. I never thought I would be the kind of person to devour books that present hypothetical situations and scenarios but I find myself drawn to them. Admittedly, there is no way that I will remember everything I have read especially when I am becoming acquainted with own my baby, who will have his own personality and his own little set quirks. But, I hope that I will have gleaned some useful kernel of information somewhere along the line - even if it is merely through osmosis.

So, fellow mommies, what are your favorite baby books? Which ones did you find to be the most useful and which ones would you recommend to a first timer?

Big.

Yesterday we made our first big purchases for our new little man - Sprout is now the proud owner of a car seat and snap-n-go stroller. Considering that March is practically around the corner, we figured it was time to bite the bullet and start with the "big ticket" items. Although we have only yet to purchase art work, a car seat, and stroller (you know, the serious stuff) I must confess that to me, buying baby gear is similar to buying a car. There are numerous reviews, recalls, and ratings for each item but no matter how long you do your homework, when it comes to making that final decision you cannot help but feel anxious that you bought a lemon. And no one wants their baby sitting, walking, sleeping, or eating in a lemon. We can only hope that we did not purchase "lemons" yesterday but I suppose that time will tell.

I imagine that our nerves about getting the safest, strongest, and most durable products are shared by all first-timers. And as such, it must be highly amusing to be a Babies R Us employee. Picture seeing couple after couple walk into your giant store, awestruck by its sheer size. Then imagine those same couples wandering over to the car seats where they test the weight of each one, admire the colors, the little straps, etc. Their smiles slowly turn to grimaces and groans as they get flustered trying to separate the base from the seat. Bases are repeatedly turned over and knees, elbows, and fingers are used in desperation to get the car seat out of its holder. Amusing, indeed.

Our experience was quite similar yesterday and it was humbling to perplexedly look each other and silently admit our inadequacies about baby products. If selecting a car seat is anything like parenthood, we certainly have a bumpy, yet comical ride ahead.