It’s a well known concept in the infertility world. Most any infertile will know what you’re talking about if you mention “the room” (and no, I’m not talking about the panic room we all wish we had when our temps start to dip or at the first sign of spotting).
I’m talking, obviously, about the baby’s room. Or the would-be baby’s room, if we ever get there. The guest room/office/storage room/whatever-I-can’t deal-with-it room that many of us have in our homes. The one we put off decorating because we hope it’s destined for a greater purpose. The one we sometimes avoid altogether, keeping the door permanently shut on the gaping, vacant reminder of the emptiness of infertility.
This weekend, my Dad flew up to help DH wallpaper the ceiling of Turtle’s room. It didn’t hit me until last night, when they were all finished and cleaned up. I was looking at the painted walls and up at the wallpaper and around at the empty room that is fully ready to be decorated and I realized, this is no longer “the room.”
This is now his room. It is for him. It is a labor of love for him, as everything has been up to this point and will continue to be. The room has taken on a whole new persona, the room is fulfilling a destiny that it was meant for, yet one I didn’t know if it would ever, ever reach.
I am going to blog about decorating the nursery, eventually. When it’s all done, with pictures, I promise. But for now, I’m just appreciating, almost reveling in, the change that has come over the room.
If those walls could talk, I believe they’d just smile.