We spent the weekend working on our backyard upgrade/makeover. It was a whole family affair. Between nursing Harry, making sure he naps, helping Adam, and making sure Audrey keeps an eye on her brother when she says she will, it was full. It actually felt quite wonderful. The last 3 years, we have been working on this house. It was the place we escaped to after George died. When we were trying to make sense of all the pain, slamming a sledge-hammer felt pretty damn good. Adam could spend his evenings pounding out the grief of losing a son. I could spend my days dreaming of how we would put the whole thing back together. And then, whenever we are done, enjoying the fruits of our labor with our family. Not our whole family, but however many God granted us earthside.
The house has been a lot of work. It has taken the majority of our time, money, and energy over the last 3 years. But you know what, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It was the distraction we needed when we needed it and it has been such a great way force ourselves out of the midst of sorrow straight into family time - one project at a time.
This yard project is no different. Except that its very different. Audrey Nole was two and half when we bought this house and started ripping it apart. We had also spent the majority of her short life fixing our previous home (albeit on a scale much less than this one) and she knew how to use a screwdriver before she could talk. So when demolition on our Mid-Century rambler began, Audrey Nole was ready to go. She would tell us how our house was broken and how we were working so hard to fix it. She watched a million and one episodes of Daniel Tiger, made countless messes in attempting to help, and put as much of her soul into the rebuilding as Adam and I did. I guess the biggest thing though, was her total independence. Aside from needing to be fed occasionally, she was so content to watch her “movies” and help when it struck her fancy, that it allowed us to focus a good portion of our time on putting things back together in our humpty dumpty house. My friends would often joke with me about how Audrey’s sibling was this house. It wasn’t too far off… she was sharing her parents with something that felt a lot like having a newborn. Looking back, it feels like God’s way of preparing her for the day when she would get to bring home a living sibling. Our only child wasn’t the center of our whole world.
Now that Harry is here, we actually do have a newborn (well, he’s not so new anymore, but in the pandemic age, it still feels as if he’s pretty new). Can I just say how special it was to be able to look at Audrey Nole, proud big sister that she is, and watch her entertain her brother every time Adam needed an extra hand? To know that our sweet little boy was in the best hands possible when I would look up from the pile of cement at my feet and hear the most precious giggles from both big and little? Part of me knows this home was designed for Harry and Audrey. Even though the big stuff was done before Harry was even on his way, there has always been a touch of him in the planning. A home and space designed for siblings. Even in the waiting and guessing through the infertility, there was still that hope that Audrey would have a roommate in the basement. That the square footage of this house wasn’t going to be wasted on just the 3 of us, but instead filled to the brim with McGough siblings and their friends. So looking over at the two of them on the patio while mama and daddy toiled in cement, made my heart burst. Even though the 5 month old is making things go much less smoothly than our other projects over the last 3 years, I wouldn’t change it for the world. This space is theirs. From the sunny grass area, to a fire pit space where countless s’mores will be roasted, to the play set that will help to build those tiny little muscles, its all for them; for siblings. For our family.
What started as an outlet for our grief and a space for us to look to the future, has become truly ours. Hard work, blood, sweat, and tears. There is still grief. It’s hard to not notice the 3rd set of little handprints that are missing. Or to not grieve the chaos of 3 littles. George is part of this house, even though he never lived here, in just the same way that Harry is part of this house despite arriving long after its guts were put back together. Adam jokes that we will die in this house (mostly because its been a lot of work) and part of me thinks that’s almost true… because to ever leave this home will mean leaving a part of our hearts behind. It has been a pleasure to include Audrey in our projects, in whatever way was appropriate, and I cannot wait to do the same for Harry over the years. This house, this home, are a big part of our story and the details of our lives are woven into its parts. There is no detail that is not us; all of us. All five of us.
