I did something a little crazy yesterday. I went shopping. For baby clothes.
Actually, it wasn’t crazy at all, but it was crazy for me. Being a pregnant dead baby mom is kind of an exhausting role. And for one glorious hour, I wasn’t. I was just a normal pregnant woman, full of excitement and innocence.
I have bought baby items before. I even bought a onesie for this particular baby, Thanksgiving weekend. But even that little token of optimism, even that isn’t normal, because normally babies live, and babies who live need way more than one outfit. And normal pregnant women love buying baby clothes rather than thinking that everyone is staring at them thinking they are a fool for counting their chickens.
So I took the gift card my mother sent me for Christmas, and I drove to the department store where they were having a giant sale, and I bought baby clothes. Precious short-sleeved onesies featuring alligators and dinosaurs. The cutest newborn-size monkey hoodie. A pair of wee madras shorts and a robot T-shirt. Twelve outfits in all, in sizes from newborn to 12 months.
Don’t get me wrong – it was terrifying at times. But mostly? Mostly, it was so much fun. Mostly, it was freedom from the fear that this baby won’t be coming home, either. It felt like taking a stand.
And really, you should see how ridiculously cute this stuff is.