Sometimes I like to go back and read from the black journal that I wrote in every day during that first dark year without Madeline. It helps me to see how far I really have come, especially on days where I don't necessarily feel like I've made too much progress. I was doing that very thing earlier today, and I came across this journal entry that I wrote almost exactly three years ago. This entry did not get included in Still. but I think many parents would be able to relate to it, especially those who are anticipating the arrival of their rainbow babies.
So here it is...
September 20, 2007
Madeline's room is blue. The green is gone. The bears are gone. She is gone. I know it is a healthy step in the right direction, but then why does it feel so wrong? I felt good while I was working on it. Taking her stuff down was hard, but I did it gradually. Putting Ben's stuff up felt good. I felt like I was proving to myself that I believed in him. That I believe he will come home and live in this room, sleep in this crib, watch this mobile spin. I felt like I was accomplishing something, and it was encouraging. But then when I was done, I looked around the room and all of a sudden the realization of what I had just done came crashing down on me. I had just removed my daughter from her room, and given it to someone else. I felt like I had kicked her out. I laid down on the floor and cried and cried and cried. I felt guilty, I felt angry, I felt robbed. I want to have a room for Ben, I really do... but I want to have a room for Madeline, too. I want to NEED a room for Madeline. I WANT MADELINE. I really don't feel like I am being too greedy with my requests, all I want is to have BOTH of my children here with me. Why is that too much to ask?