In our three-bedroom house, we have this room that has always been referred to as “the blue room” or “the spare room”. At one point, it was an office. At another point, it was my sister-in-law’s bedroom. Ever since we moved in 10 years ago, this room has been the catchall space. Even when it was an office, it pretty much served as storage. It carried the weight of the past and hopes for the future. We had always hoped it would eventually become another nursery, but we held our breath for years in anticipation and kept the door shut just waiting.

Related: When There’s Uncertainty That a Rainbow Will Ever Come

Then last summer, after 5.5 years of waiting, we caught a glimmer of hope that the blue room was going to become a nursery. I couldn’t believe it! Finally, after all these years of waiting and my daughter begging for a sibling, I was pregnant. All of those Pinterest nursery ideas I had saved on “what to do with a bedroom with two closets were finally going to be put to use. It was finally going to happen!

But then, it didn’t…

A miscarriage happened.

The blue room remained.

Several months after the miscarriage, I felt a deep urge to purge. I called it my “reverse nesting”. I was so incredibly angry. We dove into that room and cleaned it out. I was sick of everything. We filled boxes and bags with charity donations, threw away at least four garbage bags of stuff that once meant something to us, and went through every inch of the space. During that time, we stumbled upon so many baby items that we had no idea we still owned, as well as items that we knew we were hoarding. It was painful to wade through, and many of those baby items ended up in the purge pile or listed for an upcoming consignment sale. And then unlisted. And then listed again.

Now, there’s barely anything for a baby left in my home. The cloth diaper stash remains, for now. The crib and changing table are on their way to be listed for sale. It’s been 6.5 years of waiting; I’m tired of living in the “what if”. When we cleaned the room out, it felt liberating. Freeing. As tempting as it was to use the room for baby storage, I refuse to any longer. I’m so done with infertility getting a say in what I do with the square footage in my own home. I’m tired of it taunting me with my “what if” piles and “but it could happen” stashes. It’s incredibly frustrating to pay a mortgage on something that you don’t even use in its entirety because you’re waiting for life to happen. And as much as it hurts, this was the best move for our family.

Related: When You Can’t Try Anymore: Finding Peace With Ending the Journey

Now, I stand in the blue room and I no longer see the potential of a nursery, but I see it for what it is. I no longer walk in and dream of converting one of the closets into a crib nook. I don’t step inside and think, “Two closets—this room was made for twins!” For the first time in 6.5 years, I feel like I’ve accomplished freedom. The room that was supposed to be a nursery is once again an office space. And we now love it for what it is.

As daunting and painful as it was to rid the blue room of the baby stuff, we’re happy to use it the way it’s meant to be used: Not wasted. Not empty. Not for storage. Ours.

Wallace: Party of 3. Goodbye, infertility. Hello, freedom.