Two years ago today we closed on you, our very first day as homeowners! I can still remember the feeling of turning the key into your door for the very first time. It was such a promising feeling. We had already endured such heart ache on this journey to building our family but found a new hope in your walls. Our mantra became “If we buy it, they will come.” They-meaning babies, you know- “Field of Dreams” style.
Over the past two years you have brought so much joy, so much love and so much hope to us. We have slow danced on your floors countless times, played fetch with our dog in the yard another countless times, cooked dinner jamming to music and sipping wine, barbequed in our back yard and fallen asleep in one another’s arms hundreds of times. We have day dreamed of the sound of little foot steps on these floors since the moment we first layed our eyes on you.
When we learned we were having a boy, Bret spent countless hours in the garage building him a book shelf shaped like a boat and a beautiful dressing table for the nursery. You know, the room right at the top of the stairs, less than 10 feet from our bedroom door. We couldn’t imagine being any farther away from our little guy, even 10 feet seemed like such a stretch. I will never forget the first time it hit me that we were going to be parents. I pulled in the driveway late one Sunday evening after yoga class. It was early February and the light to Jake’s nursery was on. I could see Bret painting the walls. I sat in the driveway, tears streaming down my face, soaking in this moment. I remember thinking, “This is really happening, we are actually going to have a baby!” The moment hit me so hard I felt the need to capture it for the baby book. And so I did. But even without this photo, I will remember this moment for the rest of my life.
I am not sure what’s next for our home. What I do know is that there are a lot of bedrooms to fill. One is currently filled with an empty crib and dressing table, rocking chair, baby books, blankets and all the have-to-have baby essentials still in their packaging. There is a closet filled with adorable outfits, unopened boxes of diapers and a perfectly new stroller and car seat. On the dressing table sits 3 boxes; One box of our son’s only onsie he ever wore, his blankets that we wrapped him in, his hospital bracelet and isolette name tag, The second is letters to Jake from friends and family. The third holds all of his ultrasound photos and photos we took after he arrived. There will be no more pictures added to these boxes. This room of yours, Home, will always bring a vast pull of feelings between hope and pain.
In the midst of all of this heart ache, you bring us so much comfort. I don’t like to be far away from you for long. I feel safe in your walls and closest to Jake here. I find myself wandering into his room from time to time, sitting in the rocking chair and talking to my sweet boy, asking him for guidance. My heart feels the safest here, to feel whatever it is I need to feel in this room, in your walls.
I still hope to fill each one of your rooms someday. In the meantime I know our home is a little bit safer, because we have a piece of heaven in it.
Happy Home-iversary Home. We know that we are so blessed to have you.