The Brown Couch.
In 1999, moving into a new apartment, we also bought a new lounge. It was my first purchase of a large furniture item with my husband – we’d previously combined our own goods and chattels into one abode. It was very exciting, and daunting, and it took me a long time to decide but eventually I settled on the Newport 3 seater in Taupe with Peppercorn cushions and teak legs.
The reason I’m writing about this rather banal topic is that today, ten years on, we threw our lounge away. This is not the first time we have waved good bye to the brown couch. In February last year, we donated it to the Salvation Army. Two men came in a truck and indeed, left with it. As they loaded our lounge into that van, I felt my heart start to hurt and my eyes began to sting and by the time they were heading down our driveway, I began to sob. I realized I’d made a terrible mistake and not half an hour later, I rang those poor people and asked for our tired, stained, wonderful lounge back.
It’s not that we needed it – quite the contrary. We have two other much nicer lounges since bought and this one simply takes up room we don’t have. But you see, it was the memories. I thought of all the conversations..the thousands of nights I sat discussing life and love and fears and dreams with my husband..the contemplating of more children, the stresses of work, the plans for renovations and travel. The wine and gossip with friends, the Christmases with family, the many hours spent heavily pregnant and unable to sleep…all right there on the brown couch.
The visions of our children, from babies to boys and girls..the giggling and bickering and spilling of cereal. The early morning cuddles and the late nights with a sick toddler right alongside. The watching them unwrap birthday presents and rummage through Eater eggs from those very seats.
I thought of the breastfeeding. It sounds odd I guess but this stood out to me more than almost everything else. I’ve spent over three years of my life breastfeeding and much of that was right in that lounge. With Dr Phil by day and Cheaters re-runs by night, I’d settle in for the long haul.
Hardest of all.. The hours before we lost Ava, I sat with her on that lounge, we read toy catalogues, we laughed, we watched tv. Much of my last day with her was spent right there. And when her Dad carried her through the house not two hours later, willing her to open her eyes, to breathe, to be okay – he laid her there. The significance of that lounge being the very last place Ava rested her head in our home was more than I could ignore.
So, for all of those reasons and so many more, I got our lounge back. We were all so happy to see it’s grubby self re-installed in our home. And the kids continued to spill their cereal and laugh and bicker on it but almost a year on, today was the day I could let it go. It really has gone well beyond the call of duty and it’s time for something much more child friendly and less shabby.
All five of us pushed it outside, the kids protested and pleaded for it to stay which resulted in a last minute family meeting right there on the brown couch, beside the rubbish skip with the sun going down. Our compromise was to let the boys keep a cushion each to be recovered and with heavy hearts, we all agreed the time was right. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still toying with the idea of pulling it back inside but I know it’s just another baby step that’s a little more like a stumble and soon the sadness will pass.
Farewell, brown couch. We loved you well.
Love, Sheye x
(*Note – Mason is actually clothed. Not a lot of clothing, but it’s there somewhere).
I just recently stumbled across your blog, and I am always captivated by your beautiful writing and stunning pictures. Thank you for the peek into your life! I love that funky brown couch! What a great picture- one more memory…
Hello from Idaho, United States,
Caitlin
It is nice to know I am not alone in tying memories to “things”… I have debating moving houses for a while now, and then I think about all of the “moments” in this house and I can’t do it. It could also explain the 5 containers of baby items in our basement!
Glad you added the note about Mason being clothed – I totally thought he was having a nude moment!
lots of love.
jules xo
I’m not sure what I want to say other than, I understand the attachment. We had one hell of a time with Hannah’s bed. I think if we were to get new living room furniture I would be sunk. Too many memories.
Hugs.
Rach
What a beautiful story! Thanks for helping to remind me of the history,…the memories, of my own life. You have definitely done that!
I love that they kept a cushion each…perfect!
xo
What a brilliant idea to let the kids keep a pillow each.
I’m glad I’m not the only one who can’t part with furniture because of the associations with it. We have a red chaise lounge in our bedroom, which takes up a massive amount of room but I can’t bear to part with. It was the first piece of furniture I bought, because there was no room for a sofa in my first flat.
It was where my heart broke, when I discovered we’d lost our first baby and the place where my husband proposed to me. Later I fed my little girl there and we now snuggle and read books together there. So it stays for the time being, I just can’t give it up yet. But I know that I’ll have to one day, but I might just keep it a little while longer. xxx
So glad I kept reading and found you let them keep the cushions. I would have done the same. Hope the new year brings happiness to you and your family. Take care!
Kim
I loved this post..I am a VERY sentimental person as well…Things are just things.BUT , the memories they bring up is primal…
Marie
You are seriously one of the strongest most amazing people I know Sheye!
I deffinetly look up to you, and your stories teach me so many things. The couch is wonderful, and I’m glad they each got to hold onto a piece of it.
-Amanda =)
Wow, Sheye. This post blew me away. We have still, in our basement, the couch (lounge) that I nursed our children on. It’s tattered and torn now, covered in pet fur of pets long since past, but still I can’t quite get rid of it. So many memories…
The picture of your children on the lounge is beautiful (as all your pictures are).
Once again, thank you so much for sharing your heart with us.
I pray for you and your family frequently.
Love, Blessings and Peace to you in this New Year.
Sheye.
Wow.
My mother in law gave us a Rest Less 12 years ago.
It lost it’s fashionable look years ago. Old fashion when I got it..
But- the thing here as in your case.
Days and nights with bad sleeping, months before our kids arrival. Breast feeding for 3,5 years, bad movies, good movies..
This “thing” has been in all of our rooms. Just to ugly, but at the same time just to much loved. It’s still here. But in another new room…
You really know how to take one step in front of the other, Sheye. I admire you for this.
Love As Always.
what an adorable picture. i just LOVE IT!
thanks for sharing yourself sheye.
it’s sad but beautiful. and i am glad you are letting it go.
that means little by little you are healing, not that the missing will ever go cause it just won’t . ava was too precious to ever forget….
tara
Who would have thought a story about an old brown couch half way across the world would make me cry? That’s an amazing story, Sheye. You are so gifted with words.
What an amazing couch. It’s the little steps, isn’t it … they are the hardest, but we push through b/c we know they are so worth it.
I was fine and rather baffled until the part above Ava, your attachment to it makes perfect sense and your timing and dealing with the parting is perfect too. Everything in our lives holds memories no matter how tattered and beyond spent it is. Lots of Love, Denise.
Heehee! I assumed that the clothing on Mason must be hidden somehow. :-)
Big hugs, Sheye. I understand. There is sooooo much that I am holding onto still. (As in, like, just about everything.)I think you and Rach are ahead of me on that front. I still have Jenna’s sippy cup lids in my utensil drawer!
Did you think about cutting off a part of the fabric and putting it in a quilt or a scatter cushion?
Oh, Sheye, I really feel for you. I’m too senti’mental’. I cried last month when my old, not working oven was taken away. No, I didn’t breast-feed on it :) Don’t ask me to get rid of the rocker I spent four years nursing in! As the oven sat outside waiting to be taken away, I called out to it, “Farewell – thanks!”
Good for you. A new year. More space. More room. More healing.
Hugs,
Sarah
I am sentimental too. You could have it covered with some brand new fabric and it would look wonderful. If you were ambitious, you could do it your self…or take the easy route and send it to someone and have them do it. If you really wanted to keep it.
If it is a step you want/are ready to take, good for you! I am sure you will have fun shopping. (oh wait, you aren’t supposed to be doing that in 2009? LOL)
I’ve lived in the same house for all of my 36 years.
I was born on the living room floor.
It’s the last place I saw my parents alive.
It’s an old weatherboard – I’d like a new well-insulated brick home.
The day will come when I say Goodbye.
:(
I love your brown couch – it would look nice in my old house:)
well this sure explains why my closet looks the way it does! i can’t let go. cherished memories stuffed in boxes and drawers, in purses and coats. the brown couch….. everything family and so much love. sheye you amaze with your words every time. xo
Note to self – “never read Sheye’s blog whilst on hold with a government agency”. Sheye, your blog really touched my heart this morning. You are so very brave and I love the photo. I find myself thinking of you and your family often and I wish you more happy days than floating days this year. xxx
a total stranger, i am, but i feel asthough i know you and find myself thinking about you and your family more often than i do of some of the people whom i am not a stranger to. you are so brave for sharing all that you do. i have been moved to tears by your posts and want nothing more for you than to have peace in your heart. you sound like the mommy i could only dream of being! hang in there…. i will continue to pray for you.
e
xoxoxoxoxxoxox
hiya, s:)
i cannot bring myself to throw away sentimental things, either.
if you need a holding place, i have alittleroominmybasement for a
brown sofa…
much love,
d
I just love your blogs. I love your topics- things I would not think of to blog about… Your pictures are magical, and your words always make me empathize with whatever it is you have to say. Thanks for making my days brighter with your cute blog ;)
Oh Sheye, I admire your strength so much! I love that the boys get to keep the cushions.. how special!! LOVE the photo of Luca, Mason & Miss Ivy on The Brown Couch.. so many special memories. Take care beautiful.. we need to get together, maybe once the kiddos are back at school… would to have coffee with you!
love & hugs,
tanya xxxx
Beautifully written. I’m sure the brown couch will miss you, too.
Oh lovely words..again I have surrended to my teary eyes and snuffly nose.
God bless the brown couch, and all who sailed in her!
Anna x
I absolutely love this photo. And your words, so beautiful. I wish I could convey my thoughts half as well as you do. Thank you.
Sending love and hugs….
Jane
I don’t think I’ve commented before; I saw the link to your blog some months ago from Rachael at Life with Hannah and Lily. Grief is no stranger to me either, although not of my child; my husband died completely unexpectedly in a bike accident 3 1/2 years ago, when he was 28 and I was 27. Our little girl–our only child–was 10 months old at the time. Now, she’s a vivacious, beautiful, sweet little four year old, who can’t even remember her daddy.
I’ve read your blog for a while and I knew your daughter had died, but for whatever reason, I’d never poked around your site enough to find out the backstory. But I did tonight after it occurred to me I didn’t know how Ava died. I read your words on Ava’s memorial site, and while I’m pretty inured and accustomed to reading about people’s personal griefs and losses and rarely cry when reading their words anymore, I had tears reading about your beautiful girl. Perhaps it’s because a part of my always knows to fear and dread that you can’t control what happens to the people you love and that, despite the tragedy that already befell my family, it’s not insurance against it happening again. My daughter dying now is my next worse fear. My heart breaks for you for what your family has faced.
But thank you for sharing your words with us, for continuing to keep Ava a part of your current life and family. It’s often so hard for the non-grief-initiated people to understand the need to do it, but I certainly do, and I certainly appreciate seeing it.
The fact that you take gorgeous photos doesn’t hurt at all either. =)
I’m so sorry for your loss, and I can certainly empathize with the struggle with the brown couch. I had similar emotions and trials when it came to my husband’s bikes. Oddly enough, by the time I finally got rid of the bike he died on, 3 years after his death, it was a nuisance and irritant more than it was a trigger. i was relieved to finally have the “loaded gun,” so to speak, gone from my life. But I definitely understand your need to hold onto the couch.
Hugs, and peace to you,
Candice
Honey, this is my favourite post of yours in recent times. From the moment I read the title, I was intrigued. I know that brown couch so well. You are right – it has had such a monumental place in the heart of your family and all those who have come to stay. I laughed at your memories, got a tear in my eye with others….but I also thought of my own memories. Remember the photos of Alex holding our three boys in it? Before we knew we would be blessed with daughters. Seems so long ago. At first, I wanted to call you and plead with you to keep the couch…but you know, it is time for it to go. And what makes it ok is that Luca and Mason have kept a cushion. I love love love that idea. I cannot wait to see the heavy hearts sewn on them. Fabric is so symbolic – the things we do with fabric, with cotton and that we do it with our hands…so much investment. I love it. I love this post. I love you. I miss you and I miss that couch. xxxxxx
Thank you Sheye for helping me fall in love with my old 2 seater couches again. We have been fantasising about upgrading, but thought we would wait until our boys were a little older. My own special memory snippets passed through my mind as you shared in this entry. Thanks again for making me stop to smell the roses.
Sheye, only you could write a post about a brown couch and make it so intriguing and so beautiful to read. I am somewhat of a hoarder, so understand the difficulty with letting sentimental items go but not to the depth that you would feel.
That photo is amazing. Perhaps it’s because of what I’ve just read ~ I don’t know ~ but there is something about it that keeps me staring.
x
I’ll never look at my furniture the same way again. That dear, stained recliner that has rocked my babies, rocked us both when they were sick and snuggled me so comfortably during colds, flu, PMS. Lots of PMS.
Had to laugh at the disclaimer. I figured he was clothed, but he does look startlingly not.
Please rescue that couch! Don’t give it up; it holds too much of your family history, and it still looks great. If you don’t like the look, have it reapolstered (sp?). Oh, I am sad that you will no longer have the couch that represents so much. I am a sentimental loon, but it’s just so special. Perhaps it could live in the basement?
Sheye, I do not know where you find your strength, but I am just so very glad that you do. You amaze me, always.
here I am sitting at the computer crying again, sheye…. what a beautiful story about something so simple… thanks for sharing.
Sheye,
The idea of getting rid of the last place where Ava lay brings me to tears. I can understand how hard it must have been. I have a 3 year old, and I can’t even bring myself to get rid of her old high chair. But I am sure you did the right thing, letting the material burdens go. I’ve been reading your blog for a long time now, but have never commented. I just want you to know that you’ve made Ava a living breathing person for me, someone who never met her and lives on a different continent. I can’t come here without crying a little, but I keep coming back. You are full of grace.
Kristin
Sheye. as always, you are just amazing!
Sylvia xx
Well I am blaming pregnancy hormones for making me cry right now! I started off reading giggling at the Cheaters re-runs, I am sure a state apart we were probably awake at the same time, watching the same shows, nursing the girls. I love this post, such a huge step to farewell The Brown Couch (for the 2nd time!!) Cant wait to see the cushions, gorgeous idea & such a beautiful treasure for the kids to keep.
Lea x
Well I am going to blame pregnancy hormones for my tears right now!!
I started off giggling when you mentioned Cheaters re-runs. I am sure we would have been awake at the same time, a state apart watching the same shows, nursing the girls.
I love this post, such a huge, brave step to farewell The Brown Couch (for the 2nd time!)
Can’t wait to see the cushions recovered, what an awesome idea & such a treasure for the kids to keep.
Lea x
Hmm weird, my comment wasn’t there at first, so I re typed & now they are both there!!!
x
Brave steps indeed Sheye, xxx
That picture is priceless! I love it!! Love how natural they look.
My son wouldn’t ever where clothes if he had a choice. He loves to strip down to his skivvies {or less}. Thankfully we live in Southern California so the weather doesn’t get too cold here.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful story.
I’ve now read this post 6 times. I couldn’t stand the thought of not posting a comment- I wanted to tell you how beautiful and touching your words are. It is so hard for me to figure out how to communicate what a powerful story this is, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to add my voice to chorus of others saying “thank you” for sharing your heart. I think letting the boys keep the cushions is a perfect idea. I think every family has to figure out how to move forward, and what their timeline is. From reading your words for many months, it is obvious that you are very in touch with what is right for you, and what you need to do for your own healing. And you can work on healing yourself, all the while still missing Ava and working to keep her alive in your hearts. I love that your family is working on that together. The idea of a “family meeting” on the couch sitting outside is such a beautiful picture of a family helping each other stumble forward. I’m so glad you figured out the timing that was right for YOU. I’m incredibly sentimental, but the reality is that your memories and love for Ava are completely independent of that couch. It’s a brave, brave step, and I hope the sadness soon passes, and peace settles in your heart. Thanks for reminding us of this.
Need I even say it? The picture is gorgeous!
I have been a bit of a ‘lurker’ on your site, but this post warrants that I come out of my “lurkerdom” closet.
Beautifully written piece, as always, about a seemingly “arb” topic. Who would have known that a story about a brown couch could hold so much emotion. And the image… well it is a cracker!!… All I can say, is WOW! I would have kept that couch outside in the exact same spot and photographed the kids on that couch every day… A 365 “brown couch” project.
Thankyou for all the beautiful comments and emails about this post. I sat and read my words to Crayton the other morning, amdist tears of course, and just before I got to the end the bin people turned up to take it – the timing was uncanny. I’ve thought about it more than I’d hoped I would..
Andrea your comment kills me!! I so wish I’d thought of that, there are so many places on our property it could have gone! I’ll have to think of something else fitting to honor it..Pehaps an enlargement of one of the photos hung in our house?
Thankyou again
S x
I am trying my hardest not to burst into tears at work as I read your post…thank you for your wonderful writing and honesty.
Oh – only you could have taken a pic that makes the brown couch look so, so appealing! Just gorgeous.
Our fabbo “Memphis” was finally donated to the new young couple next door. Somehow it lessened the blow to see it being carried off to a new home – albeit just a stone’s throw (literally – Nicky has thrown stones over the fence) away. I choose to ignore the fact that they have left it outside in the elements. Poor kids – too nice to tell the old folks next door that they don’t want their dumb secondhand furniture. Who says the youth of today has no manners???
It was, incidentally – the best couch to lie on whilst pregnant. I wish i could have a lie down now!
Kate F
Your writing is so full-bodied, rich with color and emotion. I can only imagine the buoyancy of that love for your little-girl-at-long-last that held Ava in her life, and nurtures her still through the way you share her with those lucky enough to find your site. I am so sorry for this goodbye and the one that came before it.
Watching your baby steps forward is both beautiful and heart wrenching. You have such strength and inner beauty, your words so piercing, taking us all straight to the emotion. Thankyou for sharing.
xxxxx
your love for your family is palpable with all you write and the photographs you show.
as always you remind me of how precious today is. thank you for the honesty that you share and the moments you allow us to be a part of.
i believe that photo needs to be a huge enlargement over your new lounge! perfect.
I actually cried, reading that. You write so well.
Are you going to be doing any online workshops? I REALLY want to do one from you. I’ve been keeping my eyes open for any information about you having one this year but I haven’t seen anything. I wrote you before but I never received a response.
Still waiting,
Steph
Hi Steph :)
I don’t see you at all after a search of my inbox, I apologize if I’ve missed you.
Explore will likely run around April and Evolve mid year. I will add you to the list for updates.
Thankyou for your lovely words too!
Sheye xx
I love your couch picture. And of course the story that goes along with it. I love how your boys are looking at Ivy. You can just see how they are ‘drawn in’ by her. Very sweet.
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