Monday, 25 May 2015

The Box of Hopes and Dreams

There's a cardboard box sitting in the corner of my bedroom. 

This is not unusual. In my never-ending war on clutter I seem to be constantly taking one step forward and two steps back. Also, I'm almost positive children's toys breed while we are sleeping. 

This box, like most of the boxes in my room - the rest of which fit tucked away under the bed - is filled with clothing. 

And like those other boxes, this one is filled with clothes that no longer fit the adorable little bodies that run around my home. 

But unlike those other boxes - the ones which are, of course, carefully packed away, filled with vacuum-sealed clothes, labelled according to size and patiently waiting for someone to grow into them - this box is filled with clothing that all of my boys have grown out of. Clothes that no other little person in our family is waiting to slip into. 

A couple of years ago these clothes were placed together in this box in a cheerful, hopeful 'maybe one more' pile. They were even subtly - but not too hopefully - separated into 'baby boy' and 'gender neutral' piles of sweetness. 

And about fifteen months ago - when we decided to turn that maybe into a slightly more active 'let's let fate decide' - that box truly became a box of hopes and dreams.  A box of delicious anticipation. A box which represented my dreams of the future taking flight and a box which, upon glancing at it, would fill my mind with visions of snuggling a tiny newborn wrapped up in one of the even tinier little onesies that had lovingly adorned his (or her) big brothers. 

My Mother's Day gift this year was the most incredible gift a hopeful parent can get. Those two little lines on a stick that represent a future filled with so much potential. 

Sadly. Oh so very, very, soul-crushingly sadly it turned out that little dream was not meant to be. 

I now have a cardboard box sitting in the corner of my room that makes weep. I've cried so many tears this past fortnight that I'm not entirely sure I have any more left in me. 

I'm troubled by this box and it's contents. I hadn't truly believed until now that my little maybe could be an improbability. I've been floating in a sea of unknowns and trying desperately hard not to drown in my sorrows. How can you not abandon all hope when fate is clearly sending you a message?

I've always been one of those people who reassure their troubled friends and family that 'things happen for a reason' and that 'the right thing happens at the right time'. I've always been able to deliver these missives with confidence and often heard the news of their dream jobs or the joyful, long-awaited arrival of a baby feeling a little smug. Because I was right. Have hope and the universe will deliver.

Hopeful me is telling devastated me the same things now - every time I happen to glance at that box in the corner - and, frankly, I just want to slap her! Smug little know-it-all cow. Doesn't she know how hard it is to maintain your hope when it's been boxed up for so long? 

9 comments:

  1. Oh Sarah! I'm sorry. A loss is a loss is a loss. Hide the box for a while and let yourself grieve. Miscarriages are awful. Wallow for a while. Let the next step unfold by itself. Big hugs.

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    1. Thank you, Sarah. Writing about it has been surprisingly cathartic. xx

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  2. I am so sorry to read about your loss Sarah. I know that feeling of lost hopes and dreams. Be gentle on yourself

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  3. I know this feeling of loss too. If you don't want to give up, don't give up! Just move that box out of sight for a little while xx

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    1. Moving the box is a great idea. Thank you. And we're still letting fate decide x

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  4. I'm so sorry. I know this pain too. Hugs.

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  5. Hi Sarah, we haven't met in person as yet :)
    I can relate as I had a miscarriage years ago between my 2nd and 3rd births. It's a difficult time, emotionally it's distressing and physically you have to cope with hormones still. Hope you allow yourself to grieve, don't pretend you are ok if you feel like you need more time. It's ok to cry, and talk about it, that's what women do. It's still a loss even if it was a fairly early miscarriage as I experienced. Keeping busy without being in denial is good. You will be welcome at the homeschooling activities -next one is Friday's coffee night if you can make it, take care of you, Angie

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