The World I Live In

As I am faced with the likelihood that we will be moving soon, I have been forced to think about things that I have long ignored. I have to decide about Audrey's room. Audrey's stuff. The whole thing. And it sucks ass if I must say so myself.

I've left her room pretty much as it was when it was half-finished the day she was born. We finished the painting and wallpapering, but I had already loaded diapers, washed, folded and put the little clothes and socks away. The is crib is made and waiting for her. Now her little wooden box is all that rests there.

Am I the only one who thinks that having a dead kid is kind of surreal? I mean, I have her stuff, I have the memories of being pregnant, but not what I wish I had. Honestly, I was so absorbed with other things at that point in life, I didn't take the time to stop and remember stuff the way I should have. The things I remember the most vividly, are the things I am the most ashamed of. What I said to the customer who said "you're pregnant again?".... Me, exasperated: "yeah, here we go again...". Ugh, what an asshole I am. The last time I remember her moving and I was so into playing my role for work that I just blew it off. But now, I can still feel her little foot stretch out again my side. I have all of that. I know she was here. I know she was (is) ours. I know I have another daughter, but she's not apart of my life in a way that makes me see her the same way I do Gracie. I wish I understood that. I wish I didn't hate myself for seeing things that way, but as I think about it more, it's so hard to just continue to ignore.

I walked Gracie to her room for something last night and walked past Audrey's birth announcement and her picture, I stopped to give her little face a kiss goodnight and was just overcome with the feeling of sadness and loss. I started to cry and Gracie asked if Audrey was asleep in Heaven. I had to tell her I don't know. I don't. I don't know what my own daughter does all day. Does she do anything? I don't know. I don't know her. How in hell is that fair? How is that right? And yet, it is and life goes on. I don't understand how that can be possible, and yet it is.

I don't know if it's time and a little distance that make me try and figure all this out in ways I haven't before. It's like I'm trying to analyze and rationalize in a way I haven't tried before in hopes that somehow it will suddenly make sense. It's not working so far.

I've been trying to figure out what to do about selling the house. What do I do with her room? I intend on taking most of the family pictures I have scattered around and putting them away. I suppose having a room dedicated to a dead kid (with dead pictures and all) is not a selling feature? Think it would scare buyers away? I suppose yes. I have pretty much decided to take it all down and get rid of the nursery furniture. It will become a temporary play room for Gracie's toys. I don't really know what else to do with it. I don't really want to take the paper down and repaint, but I guess it may come to that. I don't know.

We were talking about whether we would pack everything and fly or if we would drive one of the cars to wherever we end up. We decided to drive because I wouldn't be able to fly with Audrey's box (can't put it in luggage and I doubt I could carry it on). And well, putting her in the moving van was never an option. So drive we will because I can't bear to pack my daughter away.

What kind of fucked up world is it that we live in where a mother has to make this kind of damn decision? Seriously. WTF.