We are moving tomorrow. We are leaving this house. Okay, it's really a town home and we are moving to another rental. The new rental is a single family home though with a yard and a garage. We are excited.
But we are leaving this house, this place that has been our home for the last 3.5 years. Yeah, it may just be a rental, but it has been our first real home. Our first place as a family.
We moved here right after we got married. Just Mike and I. We had lived together for two years before, but this was our first place as husband and wife. We got our dog about a month later. Perk, our first "child." We were building our home and our family.
And then the boys. Our two boys. So many memories for both in this house.
Marcellus. So many things of Marcellus. The only place we will have ever lived while he was alive on this earth. His pregnancy took place in this house. I found out I was pregnant with him. I remember Mike walking in the door to Perk in his "big brother" shirt. Taking my pregnancy photos next to he mantle. The night on the living room floor when Perk was licking my big belly and we were laughing hysterically.
And then there's October 28, 2011. The day Marcellus was born. The stairs of this house are the ones Mike carried me down when I was 28 weeks 5 days pregnant in labor with our first son. This is the house we came home to when I had to be discharged from the hospital without my baby (both times). This is the house where my midwife unexpectedly found me 10cm dilated on Oct 28 and then 6 days later she removed my stables from my c-section in this house.
This is the house we started to get ready for him. The extra bedroom filling with baby things. All for Marcellus. I vividly remember sitting on the floor of the extra bedroom sorting clothes my sister brought. Anxiously looking forward to the day Marcellus would wear them. And that mantle. The one where we had taken my belly shots next to. It's where we placed his cards. The congratulations we received for his birth. We placed them there at a time we never thought they cards we would receive for his death would outnumber them so greatly. And they stayed there. They stayed there for two years. We only just took them down around his 2nd birthday.
And then, this is the house we came home to when it no longer felt like a home. That day, November 9th, 2011, we came home to the painful silence of this house. I no longer wanted to be here. I hated it here yet I was a prisoner to this house.
We held a memorial service for Marcellus here a month after he died. His funeral was in MN and many of our NC friends never got to meet him. We wanted to share his life. To let them know him. I made poster boards for that memorial and they have been on the wall ever since. In fact, they are still there right now, they will probably be the last thing to leave the house.
You now what else is still out in this house. In our bedroom, tucked in a little cubby are some clothes. They are the clothes we wore the day he died. The clothes we were wearing as he took his last breath. They are the last things to touch Marcellus alive. And they have stayed unwashed in the cubby in our bedroom ever since we came home that day he died. Moving will make us deal with them, moreso, make me deal with them. I don't think they're as big of an issue for Mike. But for me, they have had this power. A power my therapist says I should not let them have. They are just clothes after all. They will not bring him back. So tomorrow, finally, those clothes will be packed up. They will stay unwashed and they will stay unworn. But they will be packed up as we leave this place.
Tonight Mike and I were talking about Marcellus, about how we feel leaving this house. He feels it too. That it's like we're leaving him behind, but we're not. Mike said to me, "We're not leaving him behind. We're bringing him with us. We are moving as a family." I needed that. I needed to hear those words. I will never leave him behind. Marcellus is always a part of this family. And where this family goes, he goes.
This house holds so much. For our marriage, for our family, for our boys. Not only is this where we "had" Marcellus, but this is where we brought Ethan home. Not quite a year ago we finally got to walk through the front doors of this house with a baby in tow. And once again this house felt like a home.
My mom used to have this calendar that had a quote from a homeless girl, "We have a home. We just need a house to put it in." That girl had it right. Through her experience so knew the true meaning of home. And I will hold on to that. We may be leaving this house, but our home is coming with us. Our family. Our home.
Marcellus, Momma's having mixed feelings about moving tomorrow. We are excited to have a new place to live that will fit our needs better, but we are sad to leave. To leave the place that was to be your home. The place that became our home, which has always included you. You my sweet baby boy. You helped create this home. This house is just a physical shell. We will take our home and move it into a new shell, a new house, but it will still be our home. This house will still always hold a special place in our hearts. The mantle where we took pictures of my growing belly and placed your congratulations cards. The doorway where Daddy first found out about your existence. The kitchen where he made me homemade peanut brittle when I craved it out of season and it was nowhere to be found in stores. The stairs he carried me down so bravely when I was in labor with you. We may be leaving the place where these things occurred, but they are not leaving our memory or our hearts. I love you sweet baby boy. I love you right up to the moon and back. And I miss you so much. So so so much. xoxox.