The Empty Room


We have an empty room upstairs. Nothing but carpet, paint, trim…and a bag of stuffed animals from my childhood that I long to pass down someday. But those are hidden in the closet.

This is our baby’s room and nothing is allowed in there until we know we’ll have a baby. It is the place where I go to pray sometimes, where I talk to God about our baby-to-be, where I talk to God about the baby we lost. When I feel particularly hopeful, I stop by the empty room. I design the nursery layout in my head and in my heart. When the despair of another negative pregnancy test hits hard, I stop by the empty room. Our bathroom has a mean echo, so in those times of teardrops, I sneak out of our room to go to the empty room, so I can moan without fear of disturbing Anthony’s peaceful sleep.

I hate when the empty room gets used as temporary storage. That’s not what it’s for. It’s for something infinitely more precious.

Sometimes I like the empty room better with the door closed, so I can pretend it’s not empty. And sometimes I like to shut off that part of my life and pretend the room is not even there. But somehow, that door always ends up open, and I didn’t do it. I guess that’s the wise thing to do: to open the door and allow the empty room to be a part of our lives and household.

We have an empty room upstairs for a reason. And I don’t know what that reason is. But it won’t be empty forever. You, my baby, are coming soon. You are waiting for me, just like I’m waiting for you. You will fill the empty room with blessings it won’t have room to hold. We await you. Your room awaits you. And once you’re in there, that once-empty room will become my favorite room of the house.


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