My family room floor

In three days time movers are coming.  To take our belongings and move it to our new home.

As I write this I am staring at the spot on the floor, where I was sitting when my life changed forever. The spot on the green carpet where I sat when my water broke.  Folding laundry, I wondered what that was.  Had I just peed myself?  Surely not, that had never happened before.  But the other option was terrifying, in short, not good.  Josh was sitting with the kids on the couch watching Mouse Hunt when I got up to use the bathroom.  I came back and sat down to finish folding clothes when it happened again.  This time I said something to Josh and decided to lie down on the couch.  Things didn't get any better with that move, and now my anxieties were raised.

This being my 4th pregnancy I knew what was happening.  And from that moment on, from that place on the green carpet, my life changed forever.  My families lives changed forever.

I wonder if I will feel sad to leave this spot on Thursday.  If I will miss it in our new home.  Our current home is the place where Ethan lived inside of me, where our dreams for him lived.  Where our dreams for a family of 6 lived, beautifully cramped into our condo.  Where we had his crib, clothes and bottles waiting for him.

So as I pack the odds and ends left around I notice this spot.  It is with odd fondness that I do so.  That is my spot, my spot with Ethan.  The resting place of my blissful ignorance.  Of my naivete.  Of my mental health.  The birthplace of my trauma.  Of my fear.  Of my depression.  Of my older children's medical history including "younger sibling, Ethan, deceased - COD Grade 4 Brain Bleed."

I will say goodbye to our spot as I walk out the door.  And hello to a fresh start.