So this weekend we tackled Henry's room. We packed up his dresser full of clothes, and several toys, before we had to stop. It was okay. It made me remember a lot of things that I had been tucked away in my memory, and it made me sad, but I felt ready to do what we did. There's a good bit left to be done, we will get to it when we get to it.
The baby's due date is less than 8 weeks away. Henry's illness and death has tainted the joy of this approaching event, but no more than the way it has tainted the rest of our lives. I find myself thinking things like, "If I buy a bunch of diapers and the baby dies, I'll just have to return them." My next thought is "What the hell is wrong with you to be thinking that way?!" followed closely by "Why wouldn't you think that way, after what you've been through?" I'm doing my best just to follow my instincts, both maternal and self-care, and so far it is working for me.
We haven't named the baby yet. Historically, we always have a name by now. There have been multiple names, and multiple lists, and a lot of toggling of positions, but we don't have one. I wonder if we're just not ready to commit yet.
I have knitted the baby a sweater, and a pair of booties. I haven't yet purchased a single thing for her. The girls are eager to start; today may be the day.