Simon’s Nursery

The nursery.

That damn nursery.

The room where I worked my ass off to make sure it was perfect.

There’s so much that dads CAN’T do during a pregnancy, and so much we have absolutely no control over.

But then there’s the nursery. The room where I added one more coat of paint to the dresser to make sure it was perfect. Because that’s what I COULD do. I could get a room ready. I could get the furniture just right and measure and mark to hang the pictures Tera picked out and framed. I could make it the absolute perfect place for our little one to sleep, to play, to grow.

The crib, all the furniture, the bookshelves, even the books are all still there, but now it’s empty.

It’s also the room where Nolan brought his tools to help me assemble the crib, where we worked SO hard to make sure Nolan was as ready as humanly possible to be a big brother. It’s where I sat thinking, dreaming, about what it was going to be like to have our two kids running around and playing.

And now it’s empty.

And I can’t go in.

I knew before we came home from the hospital that I wasn’t going to be able to go in Simon’s room. I didn’t really know why, but now I understand. It’s full of the clothes Simon was going to wear. We made signs to hang on the wall that my grandpa, Simon’s GREAT grandpa helped me finish up. They’re still hanging on the wall, but Simon never got the chance to see them or learn the story that makes them so much more than just some homemade signs.

I love that nursery. It turned out perfectly.

I love Simon’s room.

And I can’t go in.