It’s Just Stuff

It’s just stuff, I keep telling myself. Stuff we don’t need. Stuff other people could use. Stuff that could bring us a little money.

Stuff that’s causing me a lot of anxiety. Baby stuff. And not just baby stuff that once belonged to our toddler, but baby stuff that was supposed to belong to her – the one we lost almost a year ago.

Most of the stuff is hidden from sight in the garage, but every once in awhile I come across something still in the house. Yesterday, it was my breast pump. I hated that thing. I was so fucking happy be done with pumping. I can still remember how relieved and free I felt when I packed everything up for the last time… until the next time I would (hopefully) need it. Now, it’s just a painful reminder that there won’t ever be a next time.

While the stuff itself is hidden inside containers, I know it’s there. Everyday, I walk by it at least twice. Sometimes my eye catches the labels: bibs, bottles, swaddlers….. Sometimes a breeze coming through the opened garage door moves the sheet covering the larger items and reveals a bright green section of an Exersaucer. But mostly it’s just knowing that the stuff is there, waiting for a baby that isn’t coming.

We’ll get rid of it eventually. Maybe we’ll try selling some of it, or maybe we’ll just give it all away to a family (or two) in need.

But that’s in the future. I can’t bring myself to part with it just yet, even though I know it’s just stuff.


4 thoughts on “It’s Just Stuff

  1. I’ve been having similar feelings about our “stuff.” My husband doesn’t understand why it makes me upset, but that stuff had hopes and dreams attached to it that I’m not ready to let go of yet. Sending you so many hugs, none of this is easy.

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