I'd like to hop on here and write another positive post, one that shows just how strong and resiliant we can be, to put on my best Spanglish accent and yell "We don't need no stinkin' house", but it's starting to get to me. It doesn't help that Jack is still sick, and I can't help but wonder if all those mold spores we unknowingly exposed him to might have something to do with it...the Doctor tells me that it doesn't, that babies get sick and then they get better, but I still wonder.
It's been two months now, and very little progress has been made towards a resolution. Two months of imposing on my mom and step-dad. Two months of staring up at pink insulation wondering how we can resolve this faster. TWO STINKING MONTHS.
It breaks my heart to go to the house now, so I try not to go unless I absolutely have to get something vital. Something that we need right now. I try to tell myself "it's just a house, just wood and cinderblocks" but that is a whole lot easier to say than to believe.
The first time I went back I thought I was okay. I get some things we needed, but as I headed back to the car, I saw my daffodils. They were beautiful and cheery and they were blooming at a home we couldn't be in. Tears began to stream down my face as I tore up their stems, each and every one.
The hardest part is going into my baby's room. The room that I spent hours working late into the summer nights, painting each Dr. Suess Mural by hand while my swollen belly brushed against the wall, the room that my husband worked hour after sweaty hour replacing the ceiling so our little one could look up at fresh white paint and a ceiling fan. The room we excitedly decorated for our sweet baby, the curtains my mom and grandmother taught me how to sew, made especially for this room.
That gets me every time. I see his beautiful white crib, his sweet Dr. Suess bedding, his pile of stuffed animals, the books we wanted to read to him, and I feel like such a failure. I should have known. Somehow, I should have known. I want to go back in time, to protect my family from all of this, to keep this stress off of the shoulders of my dear husband.
I want to go home.