How do you pack up dreams, hopes, and expectations into a shoebox? How do you capture all the plans you had for the future and place them under lock and key?
Almost eight years to the day, the hopes and dreams for our future seemed bleak. So we turned to a shoebox to store the pain of a moment. A New Year’s Eve game of charades and an early announcement were soured when we experienced our first miscarriage in January 2006.
On the eve of Charlie’s 5th Birthday – a celebration of my entrance into motherhood – I pulled out that box. The Dream Box.
The irony of the box’s motto is not lost on me “Put your feet on cloud nine.” Not done intentionally, but this discovery eight years later is comforting.
The one that stored the what ifs, hopes, dreams and congratulations of a time filled with pure joy. It seemed like the perfect time to reflect on the fullness of our journey and just how far we have come.
The very first pregnancy test I took. ever.
The teeniest of tiny shoes. as we agreed to not find out the gender this first time.
The first gift for Baby S – that never quite seemed right to pass along when we became pregnant again.
The bears dressed as bunnies. Just because.
The first congratulatory cards we received – friends and family excited about the newest addition to our family.
The hospital bracelet. A painful reminder of our stay in the maternity ward. Without our newest love.
The cards that captured loss and sorrow and pain.
The box has traveled with us through three different moves and looks a bit worn and tattered. The contents haven’t changed despite the passage of years. But despite the dreams and hopes we boxed up that weekend, the story doesn’t end there. Three years after this, our hope was reborn with the birth of Charlie. The dreams began again just two years later, when we discovered our pregnancy, despite another miscarriage. The box is merely a dream deferred, not a dream forgotten.
And so we remember. We reminisce. We rebuild.
For more on our story, including stories of hope and encouragement ::