"A house is built with boards and beams, a home is built with love and dreams."
First house photo taken the week we moved in, June 2014
First house photo taken the week we moved in, June 2014
I remember the first time we saw it. We drove down a tree-lined street to this little blue-grey house with a front porch and a white porch swing. It donned an American flag and the blooms of a crabapple tree finished the craftsman style ideal. The house, built in 1922, was well kept and maintained its character with gorgeous original hardwoods, glass door knobs, clawfoot tub and 10 ft ceilings throughout. As we walked through, we both ditched the check list we had in our minds of our "perfect house" because truth be told, this was far from our idea of perfect and it didn't have our shared top three musts. However, it had something that none of the 20+ houses we had seen by that point had. This one had the feeling of home.
It may have only been three years for us, but we lived a significant chapter of our lives in this little house. It was our first house together as a married couple. We painted walls, slowly finding new pieces of furniture to fill the rooms. We planted new bushes and flowers in those flower beds with our own hands. We rocked on that front porch swing countless times. We renovated and saw our ideas come to life. We adopted a dog and gave him a loving home. We celebrated anniversaries, birthdays, hosted holidays and various dinners. We found out we were pregnant in that house, twice. We dreamed a life for those babies in that house. It was where we returned home to, with broken hearts and bare arms when our first baby died. It became my sanctuary when I couldn't bring myself to face the outside world. It is where we prepared for our second baby's arrival and emotionally brought her home to. Those hardwood floors have soaked up countless tears. If those walls could talk it would tell many stories of a combination of our love and pain, deeply absorbed within them.
We don't need to move but there has been an itch. An itch for change. That little house felt even smaller once Hadley arrived, but we were content. However, as I scrolled through neighborhood listings with a friend, I saw it. I remember the house from when we were looking for our current house and loved it then. Looking at it again, it felt like us the minute I laid eyes on the pictures. When we were able to get in to see it, I walked through with Hadley in my arms. I saw us there. The birthday parties, the holiday gatherings, the space for the larger table to set. I stood in that kitchen, envisioning a busy morning scene of getting ready for work, packing snacks and lunch - lined up on the island ready to go. I could see the patio doors open with my husband on the grill, me cooking in the kitchen, Hadley and hopefully future babies playing somewhere in between. I saw the Christmas tree next to the mantle with stockings hung, the family snuggled by the fire in the fireplace. I saw the traditions we will continue and new ones we will start. We fell in love with it and decided to go for it - and now here we are. Proud owners of our new family home, sellers of our first family home.
Over the weekend, I took some time to walk through and pause in each room, taking them in before we started to pack them up and they will no longer be the way we have had them. We've done a lot to the house to make it ours, but the room I will miss most is the nursery. It is a beautiful space, in many ways, that has so much sentiment tied to it. I've written before about how the first time walked the house, we identified that room as the nursery. I thought it would be the kitchen, but its the nursery that I will remember most about that house. We put in the contract that we are taking Hadley's chandelier with us so she can have a piece of her old room in her new room - a symbol of the room that was meant for both our babies. Before there were pink lines, there was the vision of who would occupy that room. I didn't know the road we'd take to get there. We always saw that house as our starter home and we'd hope to have two babies there, then we'd probably outgrow it. I guess you can say that's where we are now, though different than we thought it would look.
What gives me a great amount of peace and comfort to this process is that I feel like, if Hudson were here, we would be doing this right now, moving to this house. The timing became right for us to do this now, and I think it would have been right now if both our babies were here too - part of me wonders if that is where the itch came from, an inherent feeling that we'd be doing this anyway. As Parents of Loss, we do have our own parallel universe that we picture our other child/children in. I find that it can be painful sometimes when what is happening in our reality doesn't mesh with what would be going on if the parallel life was our reality. But when big life events happen and you feel they would be happening with or without the missing person, it's healing to the heart and soul. In that world, we are moving our almost 7 month old and almost 2 year old to a new house that will become our family home for quite some time. In our reality, we are doing the same but with our almost 2 year old as a memory of what could have been.
It is emotionally difficult to close the door, both literally and figuratively, on that little blue-grey house on Woodlawn. It would be hard even if we hadn't lost our first born, if we weren't leaving the only house he "experienced" but I know that adds to the connectivity. The time we made this house our home the most was when we were pregnant with him and preparing it with him in mind. Not just the renovation work but the things we bought to get ready for our growing family. I cried uncontrollably when it was agreed on in our selling contract that we'd leave our washer and dryer. The washer and dryer we bought with a gift card my in laws gave us for Christmas because we had just told them we were expecting Hudson and they told us we'd need a good new washer and dryer for that baby. I realized it is only a washer and dryer, but they carry a large amount of sentiment! The washer and dryer set revolved around him.
The 30,000 foot view regarding this move is that it feels like we are leaving a piece of us behind, but I remind myself that this is another part of our story as a family. It is a chapter of our book that we continue writing. While it was the only home that Hudson "experienced", I look forward to weaving him into our new family home blueprint. I envision creating a special corner in the new game room where I can maybe utilize some of his nursery decor that I've kept packed away in hopes to use again. It's a corner where his rocker will go with Hadley's books and toys. A place for her to play, hopefully with future siblings, some day. We have left our mark on our first family home, it will be a special place to us always. Come this weekend, I'll sit in our house for the last time with it empty, the way I did when I first entered it. Three years ago it I was in this empty space with the excitement of what the future holds. This time it is with tears, recounting the precious memories made there and how it went from a house to a home. We'll close and lock that door for the last time. Goodbye sweet little blue-grey house on Woodlawn. Hello to what our future holds for our family in our new home just ten blocks away.