My Empty Nursery

We were ready. We had a crib and a dresser. My sisters have passed on their baby clothes so we had a range for boys and girls from newborn to 4T. My grandmothers had passed on crocheted blankets and handstitched quilts. The décor was picked out piece by piece to create a beautiful arctic theme. Every stuffed polar bear I came across was purchased and settled into the crib with the others. Baskets were filled with burb cloths, rattles, bottles, and odds and ends needed for late night diaper changes. We tried out rocking chair after rocking chair to find the perfect one. No baby came.

We moved from apartment to house. The new nursery was bigger. Our plan changed. We started Foster Care classes. We bought car seats that can be adjusted for the early years. We talked about behaviors we could handle. We talked about dealing with addictions and sexual assaults in small children. We learned about the awful things our youth can go through. And I cried. I couldn't stop. I wasn't ready. I couldn't be the solid ground those children needed in the state I was in. We backed out. No children ran through my house.

I found help in slowing my tears. We found an infertility doctor who cared and understood. We started treatment after treatment. We did pills and stuck to a strict intercourse schedule. We advanced to artificial insemination. I laid there month after month hoping. We stepped hopefully into the world of IVF. I conquered my fear of shots. I bruised and I bleed. we used embryo after embryo. I started morning after morning undressed from the waist down in a doctor's office. They learned my name. Their smiles turned from "Welcome! We are so exited to help you succeed!" to "Our hearts go out to you. We are so sorry it hasn't worked yet." And then a baby came.

We jumped for joy. We called our parents. We cried and planned.

Then the scan came. Baby was not growing. This was not the one. For two weeks we were parents. For two weeks the last 5 years meant something. We stopped medications. We waited and waited for our only pregnancy to end. We said goodbye to our baby. We cried in each other's arms. We scheduled our next IVF retrieval and implant. We are left hoping. Left praying. Begging to God.

My nursery sits empty. It is fully stocked. I have clothes and toys. I have books to read to my babies. I have pictures hung up and blankets folded. It used to be filled with all my hopes and excitement. As those have slowly leaked out, it remains the tomb of an empty dream. The door remains shut. The room remains lifeless.