Grey Owl on the Walls

TW: pregnancy loss

Our guest room had been emptied a few months ago. Furniture and decor were in storage, until I was sure what I wanted to do with it. The guest room was a blank slate and as I stood in the doorway, staring in, the emptiness seemed amplified by the walls. The walls had been painted pink, Blush Pink according to the paint chip I had decided on after a week of elimination of every other hue of pink. It had been perfect, but now it had to go. Pink, Blush Pink, was not a colour for a guest room. It’s too childish. Too sweet. 

I had decided on Grey Owl for the walls and Chantilly Lace for the trim. Sophisticated, appropriate, easy to style around, a can't lose combination. At least, that is what I had been told in my online mom's group when I posted requesting decorating help because I just couldn't see any other colour than Blush Pink. Those moms, they are CEOs of tech start-ups and they are fashion designers and they are project managers. They are put together, stylish and have white couches. They are like another human form in my eyes and I was equally envious of them and in awe of them; after all, my couch was fine, but not white, my job was admirable but not lucrative. Those moms, they were better than me. They were women who did motherhood right. They were mothers, real mothers. They would know what to do with this room and the suggestions rolled in for days after I posted my inquiry.

Post: "Not baby related - I have a room in my house that needs a change. It needs to be painted, it's currently a light blush pink which needs to go. I lack any sort of interior design eye and need help! Any suggestions on a colour that isn't overwhelming and suitable for a guest room?"

Response: 'Grey Owl' 'Chantilly Lace' 'Grey Owl and Chantilly Lace!'

My husband had left the paint cans in the middle of the room, on top of the overlapping sheets he had put down to cover the floor in lieu of the drop cloths I had asked him to get the other day. I rolled my eyes muttering to myself "We still use these sheets Trevor. Drop cloths are probably one aisle over from paint cans, come on" as I crouched down to check the label on the first can. 'Benjamin Moore, Grey Owl' I nodded as I grasped the metal handle and lifted it over a few inches to my side before putting it back down on the sheets. The stupid sheets that we still use that he put down instead of buying the drop cloths like I had asked and now they're ruined and I have to buy replacements. The thought sounded so sharp, so angry and so accusatory in my head that I wasn't sure if I had spoken it out loud. I stayed like that for a minute, crouched down, sitting on my heels, one hand still on the metal handle of the can and the other on my left knee. I reminded myself to breathe.

"It's not about the sheets Elise, it's not about the sheets" I mantra-ed in my head while breathing in for 4 counts and out for 4 counts, 3 times slowly. This practice was something I had picked up from a video about managing emotions I had watched on YouTube one night when the thoughts were taking over, the anger rising in my chest, the sadness building in my throat and I couldn't sleep. I think it helps a bit but who knows. I think it helped at this moment at least. I only realized my eyes were closed when I opened them after I let that third breath out. I dropped the paint can handle and pushed myself up to standing, resting my hands on my hips while I surveyed the room.

“This room gets good morning light” I thought approvingly. “It will be a lovely room to wake up in, with the sun streaming in and the windows overlooking the backyard. Yes, this room is inviting and comfortable for any guests we will have to stay here.” I walked over to the doorway and lifted the paint trays out of the plastic bag hanging on the doorknob and fished around for the little brush I had asked Trevor to pick up for the paint work where the walls meet the ceilings and the baseboards. "He did remember that at least" I thought to myself as I pulled it out. I reached for the paint roller leaning against the wall. I turned back towards the paint, pried open the can and tipped it over the tray, filling it to what I assumed is the right spot. The light grey colour quickly covered the roller as I dipped it in and rolled the excess off. I stood up, dripping a few spots of paint onto those damn sheets.

"Here we go'', I whispered to myself as I tentatively rolled that first bit of paint over the wall. 

Two coats of Grey Owl on the wall, one coat of Chantilly Lace on the trim and baseboards and the painting was done. A solid 8 hours. I stood in front of the window and looked around the room. I tried picturing where each piece of replacement furniture would go, what was needed in this empty room to make it a proper guest room. “Queen size bed against that back wall because you wake up, roll over and stare right out that window with the morning sun. Perfection” I thought to myself. My eyes shifted to the far wall and I thought about the storage solution we had designed months ago which would mimic a built-in because this room didn't have a closet. We had designed it with a grey tone in mind because of the Blush Pink walls but now, with the Grey Owl on the walls and the warm sun that would flood in each morning, this room was calling for white. I made a mental note to send the change to the store holding our design plan. That built in design plan had been on hold for a few months, unfinished. Scanning the bare walls I realized that we needed some wall art and maybe some kind of wall decor to fill the space. Something grown-up. 

I was sitting on the floor of the room, staring at my phone going through photos trying to find the perfect ones for the walls. I was thinking about whether two skyline photos would work, printed in black and white, one of Toronto and one of New York City, when Trevor walked in. "Wow, you did great love. The room looks great." He said as he sat down beside me and kissed my cheek. "How are you doing?" I looked over at him and smiled "I'm doing okay, it was hard but it's done." He patted my leg while he looked around, and leaned back on his hands. "Well, it's a big change, but I think it's time don't you?" He turned back to look at me as he asked this question. I nodded but didn't say anything. He held my gaze for a second but then turned his eyes to the doorway. 

The silence was hanging in the air when he patted my leg again and then pushed himself up to his feet. He cleared his throat. "Well, I think it was time and I think the room looks great. I'm proud of you. Maybe a bookshelf over there and a chair next to it and a reading lamp, what do you think?" He asked, gesturing to a corner. "Sure, sounds good" I said unenthusiastically as I stood up beside him and looked over to that corner. He was right, it was the perfect corner for a comfortable reading chair. I originally had a slightly different vision for that corner that doesn’t work anymore I thought. He knew that vision, he helped me create it.

I turned back to look at him. "You know, that corner was supposed to be the glider, Trev. The glider with the footstool and the small table and the wall shelf, I was going to put my tea on that shelf"  I said quietly.  He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. "I know. I'm sorry love. Do you want to maybe keep the glider, it could work well as a reading chair?" I pulled back, the tears ready and my chest tight. "No. No I don't. We can't use the glider, that's not what we bought it for. No. We have to get a new chair, just like we have to get new sheets because I wanted drop cloths but had to use the sheets we put on our bed instead. It's not what I wanted.” I was shaking and I knew he wasn't being malicious in his actions and suggestions but I couldn't stop myself from responding that way. I felt the maliciousness of my outburst, which wasn’t about sheets or gliders or even Trevor. "Should we use the crib instead of a queen bed? What about a change table instead of a bedside table?" I spit out at him. 

He stepped back putting space between us and I stood there, shaky and angry at him for reasons that aren't his fault. He swallowed and then said "No, we shouldn't do that. Sorry. We can buy a new chair, love. Sure” I wanted a fight but he wasn’t giving in. I know this is the right way for him to deal with my emotions but I couldn’t let it go immediately. I can never let it go right away and he never gives in, he doesn’t let me bait him.

"I asked you for drop cloths, why didn't you get them? Don’t you care that we will never use those sheets again" I asked him. He looked taken aback for a second and unsure of what to say. "I forgot and figured the sheets would work.'' He said this so carefully but it sounded flippant to me. Rolling my eyes I took a shaky breath. "Well, that's not what I wanted Trevor. The sheets are ruined now." The anger was quickly dissipating, basically as fast as it took hold but it was being replaced by an overwhelming need to burst into tears. I pushed those tears away but the tightness in my chest was still there. He looked away and didn't say anything. 

"Trevor.” He still wasn’t looking at me. “I asked for drop cloths, it's not that hard to get paint and remember the drop cloths. God it's common sense. Trevor. Don't you have anything to say?" He looked back at me. "I know. I'm sorry." I held his gaze for a few seconds and then turned to face the back wall. Breath in for 4, breath out for 4 I mantra-ed with my eyes closed.

I opened my eyes and exhaled one extra deep breath. "Whatever. You don’t care. It's just paint. We need some art or photos for this wall. Over the bed." I could feel him beside me, cautious and not sure what to say. He put his hand on the small of my back and I turned to look at him, my body starting to shake, the tears coming quickly as he pulled me against him.

"It's fine Trevor. It’s fine. This is not a baby room anymore. It's a guest room. I get that. It’s fine."