Cleaning Therapy

Since our loss, the house has kind of fallen into a state of entropy. Like us, the house seemed disordered, unready to be put back into place. My suitcase sat idly next to the stairs...unpacked from our last, fateful trip. Dishes were undone. Laundry piled up.

Today, I couldn't bring myself to grade. That weight of sadness felt slightly more languor-inducing this morning, but I was determined not to spend another Sunday glued to the tattered comfort of my couch. That suitcase was staring me down, and I was suddenly reminded of one thing over which I still had control--my space.

So I set to work. I attempted to unclog the bathtub; I rinsed the dust off of the bathroom ducks. I did a little laundry, and my husband washed the dishes. Bills were finally paid. I cleaned out my purse and organized my stuff for work.

My gothy, geeky office...on a good day.

But the biggest hill to get over was the disorganized state of my office and bedroom. When I was pregnant, I began to (obviously a bit prematurely) prepare the baby's room. Formerly my office, the second bedroom was going to need a complete overhaul. I was afraid it might take nine months to transform my geeky boudoir (aka: "office") into an infantile paradise. I couldn't wait for the "nesting" instinct to set in. I've watched some of my friends wait until their third trimester to begin decorating and I didn't want to replicate that stress.

When I miscarried, I had already taken storage bins full of books over to my parents' house and prepared a few more for transport. In their place, the bookshelf was beginning to be adorned by baby books and stuffed animals that my husband and I had acquired over years of preparing to conceive, seven months of trying, and two months of pregnancy. I was moving other books and all of my jewelry into my bedroom.

After the miscarriage, everything just kind of froze in place for nearly two weeks. We were stepping over boxes to get into bed. The office/baby's room sat lonely and disheveled. Both my husband and I decided that we didn't want to undo all that we had done. We're both firmly resolved to continue our journey; the office will be a place for baby tears and diaper rash soon enough. So today I decided to continue to clean and prepare as I would have had nothing gone wrong in the first place. Well, almost the same. At least this time I could do most of the lifting.

I put books on the bookshelf in the bedroom; I hung some shelves in the bedroom to move some pictures around. I organized the photo albums. I cleaned off my dresser top to make way for my jewelry as it migrated from the office. Things aren't done being cleaned. Even when they are, there will still be one final, missing piece to the puzzle, but I'm confident that she or he will be here soon. I want to be ready when he or she arrives.

I'm not a big cleaner, but today cleaning was therapy. Thank you, Clorox Wipes, Drano and my beloved hammer drill!