Dust Gathering

I was getting ready this morning and happened to look over at Michaels crib. I guess I should start by telling you about this room I that I was in. We remodeled one of our spare bedrooms into my dressing room about 6 months before we found out we were pregnant. It was painted the most beautiful shade of Tea Rose Pink. Mike designed the layout and picked the crown molding. I had a huge closet for just my things, a vanity where I could store all of my makeup, hair designing utensils and everything a girl has to have to smell like a flower dipped in figs and vanilla brown sugar.

It was a room fit for a queen, that is- until we found out we were going to have a prince! I was so excited to give up "My Room" for our baby boy. We quickly painted and moved all of my furniture out to move Michaels crib and changing table in. Well everything except for my vanity. Michael was still going to have to share his room with his Mommy for a while until he had stopped breastfeeding or he kicked Mommy out because there wasn't enough room for his trucks and dinosaurs. So this morning I was getting ready and looked over at his crib. I was heartbroken by what I saw. Dust was gathering on the edges of his crib. I freaked! I began sobbing uncontrollably. I could barley breathe because I felt this extreme sense of guilt had just punched me in the stomach. How could I let this happen, what kind of mother lets her (dead) baby's crib get dusty and dirty. Then came this excruciating realization that will haunt me for the rest of life! Is this what it's like when someone is forgotten? Does the dust just come in and cover the memory of the greatest little human being ever created? Is this what Michael is becoming to people, just dust gathering on an empty crib where our baby should be right now? My day was automatically shattered! I so badly wanted to call into work and tell them to SUCK IT, I had better things to do with my time like start a huge Memorial Campaign for my son that was soon to be forgotten if I didn't take drastic measures. But I didn't do that. I sadly and heart-brokenly wiped the dust from every inch of his crib, crying the entire time.

Somehow it was a little better when I was done, knowing that as long as I am alive- his memory will be too. As long as his Dad and I are around to wipe the dust away he will never be forgotten, by us. And really when you think about it, we are the only ones who really matter when it comes to him. When we die, we will no longer need his memory to go on because he will be with us again.