Yesterday, my husband and I did something preposterously bold: we painted our future nursery.
Neither of us woke up yesterday with this in mind. However, we both had the day off with few plans to fill it, and my husband brought it up as a logical idea for passing some of the time and getting ahead. The to-be-nursery is presently mostly empty, but soon to be filled with boxes and bins seeking temporary storage, and he reasoned that it would be easier to do now, with nothing in it, than it would be later on. We had the time, and a local home improvement store had a great deal on paint. What did we have to lose?
So, we went out, bought paint, and painted. I conceded only on the condition that we pick a colour that was relatively neutral so that, if it ended up not being needed as a nursery, it still wouldn’t scream ‘baby’. Based on the theme we have been tossing around, he wanted blue, but I wanted grey; we eventually agreed on a slate grey that was blue enough to please him and grey enough to please me. Everybody wins.
So, there you have it: at 10 weeks pregnant, I’ve already started nesting. It’s a strange feeling, especially so early, but it’s what’s right for me, and that’s really all that I can act on. I am brave enough to hope that I get to bring this baby home to this room, and, in truth, it’s only fair to him or her that I acknowledge and honour this hope – they deserve it. It wouldn’t be fair to let my fear of loss interfere with how well I get set up for this new baby. Also, I think Brock would like it better this way, too. He’d want us look to the future with hope, not dwell on the past. He would want us to make sure that his kid brother or sister was happily and fully received, just the way we had planned for him.
I read an article recently about this subject – nesting after loss, and all the fear and mixed feelings that comes with it. I am sure that, as I get further into it and put more and more effort into it, I’m just going to get more and more anxious that I will be doing all of this work again for nothing, and it’ll end in me needing to pack up a bunch of baby clothes and toys all over again. It’s a lot more fun (and healthier), however, to hope for the best, and it’s what is fair to your future child. Read the article I’m talking about here.