After crabbing at Cullen about the things you already are aware of, I decided I would clean out the rest of our "stuff" in storage. There's only a few boxes left, so he brought them up. I was teary throwing away baby shower decorations and seeing pictures of me with a baby in my belly (I didn't throw those away, don't worry), and this or that. It's how this goes when going through the personal, really personal things. I got through them though, because I am a rockstar. I got one box down to 3, and that box will go to my kids someday. Or...you know what I mean, I'm crying to hard to go fix it. 3 boxes into one.
And then the last two boxes are my favorites. They are full of books, the books that I really love. Even those I'm paring down on and letting go of some. Some I'm keeping, but they will go with the other books that I'm keeping and I will read and reread them.
And then it happened. The journal, the first ever baby journal I kept from the year 2000. It was for a baby that I would lose at 14 weeks. The first ultrasounds, the first little flutters in my belly and then it stops...just stops
because there was no more baby.
There's no point in keeping that, especially if it's going to blind me with tears and snot every time. I so wish Cullen were here right now, my heart really, really needs a hug, I can't get a grip. I need more warning that that.
And I threw it away.
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