The Orange Binder

Sometimes, when I want to get my feelings recorded quickly, I send myself an email with my journal entry. Here's one from a few weeks ago that I want to get recorded before our server dumps it.

As Lesh's photos upload, I decided to take a few minutes to tidy up our bedroom and came across the "orange binder," along with a flood of memories.

In the summer of 2008 I decided I really wanted to get on top of things and to organize all the kids papers. I purchased a large, clear and orange binder from Wal-Mart and made a section for each of the kids and for the baby. By the time school started everyone had a few things in their section and was still thin. I had placed a few things in the baby's section - ideas for decorating it's room and photos of cute birth announcements which I liked.

Then August 26, 2008 came. And we realized our lives would never be the same. Connor's section quickly started filling up as we gathered information on Trisomy 18. It became our lifeline, so to speak. We kept everything! The directions for me after having an amnio. The CD from that first big ultrasound. The prescription for prenatal vitamins. The thick packet of test results from the tests. Ultrasound photos. Notes from our meetings with both Angel Watch and Rainbow Kids (they got a kick out of this binder). We took it everywhere we went. It has a list of ideas for graveside services. The handwritten list of five things which were wrong with Connor's body. The business cards from doctors, Newsweek Magazine, and last but not least, cards for funeral home contacts.

I remember the first time I called a funeral home to get info. I got choked up and couldn't speak so I managed to get out "I'll call you back." And when I did, I broke down again. It's hard to plan a funeral for a baby who is inside you, kicking you as you speak to the funeral home director about buying a casket for your unborn child. 18" or 24" they gently ask.

There are a few things I haven't been able to bring myself to do:
- watch the CD's from his ultrasounds
- put together his "final" scrapbook
- take down his room
- go and purchase his headstone

Now the orange binder has been retired to his room.

It's placed with all the other things which remind us of him. His room has turned into a "Connor Shrine." And it's still a sweet place for me to hang out. When we're ready we'll take it all down and give the room to one of the kids. Maybe we should buy a black "Hope Chest" to place all his things in it. Then all of his things will be easily accessible and I love it's name - Hope. Because of His sacrifice I have hope and a knowledge that my son still lives and I'll get to see him.

Now the orange binder has few more things.

A birth plan. A birth certificate. Locks of Connor's dark, curly hair which a kind nurse helped me get. A death certificate. Prints of his hands and his feet. Papers for me from the hospitals bereavement coordinator. And a receipt for the purchase of his burial plot and a map to show exactly where his "Spot" is. And copies of the program from Connor's funeral services - beautifully done by my brother-in-law.

When I see this orange binder, it just brings back good memories of being pregnant, lugging it to all our meetings and collecting everything. It reminds me of him and some of the tender experiences Spencer and I had together.