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Letting Go

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SONY DSCThis is a bag full of baby stuff. Crib sheets and blankets, a crib mattress pad, a changing pad.

In our old house, in the basement that I am cleaning out little by little, there is a crib frame.

Today, it is all going away. I’m letting go of it. Saying goodbye.

We had use for these things once, back when we had foster children. I had hopes of using it again someday, back when we were looking into various types of adoption. But now I realize that none of this stuff is doing anyone any good sitting in storage. Least of all me.

My niece is due to have her first child in about a month. She has a crib, but my sister-in-law will be taking care of the baby while the little one’s parents are at work or school, so she’ll need a place for baby to nap.

Why should I keep things Just In Case, when I know that I have little chance of using them? Especially when someone I love would benefit from having them?

I thought I would feel more when I made this decision. A clean break, a sense of closure, or a sadness. I don’t, though. It is instead a vaguely empty feeling. Not empty as in lacking something I want, but empty as in devoid of emotion. I feel next to nothing.

Today, I will load up my car with the crib frame, the sheets and blankets, two toy boxes, and a baby gate. I will drop it off at my relatives’ homes and I will wave goodbye as I drive away from the last of the physical evidence of our attempted journey to parenthood.

I will return to my home, my husband and my animals.

And when baby arrives, we will love her and rock her and put her down to sleep in bedding meant for someone else.

But she will smile sweetly, and the origin of her crib will be irrelevant.


About Karen Koch

I like the old-fashioned lifestyle. All this new-fangled stuff baffles me sometimes. I cherish living out in the country, raising chickens and rabbits, planting fruit trees, and enjoying a slow life filled with beautiful words and ideas. I don't always achieve a slow life. I teach middle school English and manage a little burgeoning farm with my husband, and somewhere in the midst of that, I try to find time for writing, running, knitting, reading, and playing the ukulele. And sometimes, I actually succeed.

2 responses »

  1. Your beautifully worded goodbye made me tear-up.
    I feel your rightful farewell and move forward with you.

  2. My heart breaks for you, even if yours is at peace now. But you’ve definitely made the right decision.


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