I hoped a day would come when I would know what to do with those items, but I feared the most I could ever do with the bins was open them, touch a few pieces of fabric, then - overcome by emotion - close and restack the bins in the guest bedroom closet. It'd happened dozens of times and I couldn't imagine that changing.
|Bag, pin and bookmark made from clothes worn by Isabelle|
His silly grin disappeared when he saw that I was crying and he slid in next to me - so sensitive with such a big heart.
"Mommy?" he said, touching my leg. "Why are you sad?"
I explained that I was looking through Isabelle's clothes and it made my heart hurt that I couldn't see her. He knew his sister well, although he'd never met her. We had photos around the house, her favorite bear that became his favorite stuffed animal, and a book with every picture that was taken of her during her four months of life.
Yet Wyatt was only five and I wasn't about to crush his little spirit with my grief, so I began packing the clothes back into the bin. But just as I was about to snap the lid closed, Wyatt's hand shot into the bin, latched on to a little sundress, then yanked it out of the bin.
I gasped, but Wyatt wore a giant smile as he held the pink and orange sundress up to his little chest. "Do do-do doot do!" he said, waggling his body back and forth.
I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, but I struggled with the feeling that the fabric was sacred. It couldn't be tugged or torn. Misuse meant that I wasn't properly tending to her memory.
Just then Wyatt's hand shot back into the bin and he pulled out a flowery sunhat that he plunked on his head. "How do I look?"
|Pin and eyeglasses case|
Wyatt dug deeper and pulled out a No. 2-sized diaper. "A diaper, mommy? Really?"
"At least it's not a dirty diaper!" I said and Wyatt bust out in a belly laugh so deep I couldn't help but laugh myself.
This went on for a good hour as we went through all three of those pink bins. I told him stories about where his sister wore the various outfits and he put pants on his head, pushed his hands into baby socks and tied footie pajamas around his waist. Then we carefully packed the clothes away again. Somehow, the pieces of clothing didn't feel so sad anymore. Instead, they were fun pieces that brought back memories that I could share with my son about the beautiful baby we had before he was even born.
From there, the seed of an idea began to germinate. I could make something with her clothes. Many somethings and share them with our family - maybe for Christmas. But it was the first week in December. There didn't appear to be time. I looked online for ideas, and came across quilt-patch blankets and a memorial bear that could be made out of clothing sent to the company.
|Pin made from a pocket of Isabelle's jeans and in the pocket I inserted the little quote about driving safely|
|I included tags with each of the items featuring a photo of Isabelle in the outfit that was used to make each piece.|
|"This little pin is special you see, because it was made with clothes worn by me"|
|Pin and two bookmarks - I included tags with the bookmarks that said, "Never loose your place".|