by She chose not to include the white crib in her yard sale last month because she was unable to part with it. Gerald Kumpula, a retiree, saw it, nevertheless, and begged to purchase it.
When Watts, 28, learned that Gerald, 75, was a craftsman who created benches out of used headboards and footboards, she finally gave in.
Watts remarked, “I was kind of at peace with it because he’d be making something nice.” She gave it up for two dollars.
When Gerald’s wife Lorene noticed the baby clothes at the sale and inquired about Watts’ son’s age, Watts struck up a discussion with her, sharing her tragic tale.
Lorene told Gerald Watts’ story on the way home. With fifteen children and several grandkids, the Kumpulas were aware that Watts was the rightful owner of the crib. The pair brought Watts a bench built out of the crib a week later.
Watts said in an interview with TODAY.com, “It’s beautiful.” “There are still good people out there,” I thought to myself.
She arranged the bench in her living room, a space that brings back memories of Noah.
She said, “I’m so happy that it’s not just sitting around doing nothing.” I may now sit in it, cuddle his bear, and reflect on him if necessary.
In the final days of Watts’s full-term pregnancy, she had noticed decreased movement from the fetus. On July 22, Watts and her fiancé Jimi Hamblin learnt that Noah was not breathing during a cesarean section, and Watts survived. Doctors claim that Noah’s umbilical chord constricted and prevented him from breathing.
The Kumpulas were more sensitive to Watts’ suffering than most because their first grandchild had been stillborn.
Gerald stated, “An abandoned crib is a somber reminder.” “A bench functions more as a monument. It’s a part of that awful event, but it’s not a crib—an empty crib—like it would be.
Gerald refused to accept Watts’ offer of payment.
“Being able to assist someone is just pleasant. Helping others is good,” he remarked.
Watts is getting married to Hamblin this autumn, and they have a 7-year-old daughter named Nevaeh. She claimed that the bench, which is next to a corner bookcase that has pictures, footprints, handprints, and ashes of Noah, is assisting her in overcoming her loss.
Watts, a babysitter, stated, “Even though he’s not here, I feel comforted by his presence when I’m sitting in it.” everything has a calm, “it’s okay” vibe to it. I can sit on the bench and feel better when I’m depressed; everything will work out in the end.
