My husband and I have been pricing out kitchen remodels for the past couple weeks, remodels that are badly needed. It’s a small kitchen in an old house, and so much space is wasted from poor layout and design. Since cooking is my preferred stress-relieving hobby, the current layout drives me crazy. In addition, the kitchen no longer matches the rest of the house. Two years we finished major renovations on the main living spaces: we installed new windows, replaced all the wood trim, replaced the front door, refinished the hardwood floors, repainted everything, and in general had fun. The rest of the house now looks great, while the kitchen still looks shabby. Remodeling should be a great way of taking my thoughts away from medical problems!
There is another room we should have tackled first, before the kitchen, a room that still needs to be finished. redone. The front bedroom, which we refer to as “the study”, has new trim and new floors and new windows, but not new paint. That room was supposed to be the nursery.
The walls are primed; we decided to leave it like that until we decided what colors or decorations to use. Deep down, both of us thinking secretly about the possibilities: blues and pinks and greens, a white old-fashioned crib, handmade blankets, teddy bears, dolls and wooden blocks, a rocking chair. Now, the room is sitting empty, blank white walls that are as barren as I am. I don’t like going into it. In my mind, I still see it with nursery furniture.
Doing anything with the room seems impossible. If we restore the room to “study” mode with all my bookshelves and class files, it would seem like giving in, like we’re admitting that the room will never be a nursery. We can’t very well turn it into a nursery without a pregnancy. And leaving it like it is – it’s the black hole in the house, representing the failure of our dreams for the future.
I’m going to focus on the kitchen remodel, hoping that other mental furniture will eventually crowd out the visions of cribs and teddy bears and children’s shoes that are constant reminders of infertility.