The Dresser

Until today the nursery was still just as it was on April 3, a room suspended in time. Jasper's old crib is in there, made up with new Dwell Baby owl-print sheets. There's a stuffed animal tucked in where Balthazar would have slept. His blabla lions and face pillows are propped up along the side. Jasper's wooden rocking chair is next to it, with a pillow with an owl embroidered on it. I was so excited to find a cute print to perfectly match the Caribbean blue walls, and if I do say so myself, the decor rocked.

The diaper genie is ready to go. All of the clothes and towels and sheets have been washed in Dreft and folded and put away. Most of the things are Jasper's, but there are a couple of tea collection footie pajamas in Japanese prints and a onesie and a little hat with a gray print like tiny bird footprints. I bought them at Christmas so he would have something that was his own.

But he's not coming.

When Balthazar died my sister-in-law offered to fly out from Cleveland and take down the nursery for me. Her offer was well-meaning, but at the time it seemed inconceivable. Seeing the nursery, which I pass through several times a day because it is at the top of the stairs and the easiest path to our bedroom and Jasper's bedroom, didn't make me sad. Or, it didn't make me any sadder than I already was. Balthazar's ashes are there, in a wooden box from Ukraine that I found on Etsy. All of the cards that we received, the ultrasound photographs, the six pound eight ounce heart-shaped pillow a charity sent. I didn't need or want anyone to do anything to his room. As long as it stayed the way it was, it was proof that he had lived. I figured I would know when I had crossed over from being a bereaved mother to being a crazy lady. I would know when it was time.

Then for awhile I hoped that I would get pregnant with another baby right away, and he or she could just slide into Balthazar's place with little alteration necessary. But my husband doesn't want to try.

It's probably faulty thinking anyway. Even if I got pregnant and carried to term and delivered a healthy baby, it would not be Balthazar. And as it turns out, the crib has been recalled, so no matter what happens in the future it is not sticking around.

Today, four months and one week from the day that he died, I removed Balthazar's dresser from his room. Jasper and I have been sharing a closet for a long time now and it isn't big enough for both of us. We don't have enough furniture to leave something useful sitting idle for someone who is never going to use it. I took out all of those onesies and hats and hanna andersson baby socks and put them on the floor. Then I moved the little plastic dresser downstairs to my office and put all of Jasper's clothes in it. Maybe it's because it's not an heirloom but a $69 job from Storables, but it wasn't as awful as I feared. I only cried a litle when I asked Jonathan if it was OK to do.

Strangely, considering how much he talks about moving on and moving forward, he has had as much or more trouble with it than I have. He hasn't wanted anything in there to change, either. I'm not moving anything else in there. Not for awhile. I think we're at least agreed on that.