A sort of predictable result of being pregnant again, after such a hard experience on the same ball field less than a year ago is that it’s tricky to enjoy it. I haven’t really had the heart to research which stroller is going to suit me best. I’ve not considered where the crib (s?) should go. I don’t comb the sites that tell what to expect every other day of the pregnancy. And it isn’t that I’m not excited, I am. It’s just that I can still hear the echo of the knock knock knock of bad luck and real life.
I remember vividly, when I was pregnant with Roan, the first piece of clothing I received as a gift. I was around 16 weeks, and a whole gang of friends and family met at some mall in Utah to go find out what kind of baby he was: girl or boy. Someone shelled out the $60 to get a sonogram and there was no mistake Roan was a boy, and ready to let everyone know all about it.
My sister Kellene ran over to Baby Gap and bought me a little sleeper suit, one with teddy bears. It became something I looked at often, before he was born, trying to imagine what a baby of mine would look like in it. That’s all it took, in that super easy and innocent pregnancy – a sleeper suit and I was hooked on my Roan.
So these twins I’m walking around with – I’ve already begun fearing for them. They’ll be in therapy one day, undergoing regression hypnotic therapy, and will have a revelation that at 17 weeks in-utero, their mother wasn’t convinced that they were real. And then they will realize they were born with an existential crisis imprinted on their tiny little consciousness and they won’t love anyone including themselves and then they could just possibly do something bad like starting a rampage of hiding everyone’s left shoe.
And that would be my fault.
A box was delivered to my home yesterday. Roan opened it and his face lit up like a million bon fires. “It’s for the babiiiiieeeeeessssss!!!”
Sure enough, we have been gifted doubles of the most adorable little clothing I have ever seen, doubles in multiple sizes. And not just a few pieces. We have enough items that I’m pretty sure even with 2 babies, I will never have to do laundry for the first year. It is a gift that we definately don’t deserve, but one that means more to me than just clothing.
While Roan was pulling out track suits, hats, onesies, sleepers and tank tops I was able to finally see these boys in our family. It’s funny how getting something tangible – that belongs to them – finally put them in my head and heart as really real. For real.
Roan has chosen which things they will wear coming home from the hospital, and couldn’t be happier that they will be able to carry on the track-suit pride, beginning at 0 – 6 months. He has called dibs on dressing them each day, and with the bounty of adorable clothing these guys have, Roan will be able to do no wrong.
My friends Lynn and Harald at Appaman know absolutely no bounds in their generosity towards others. Not only in their gifts, but also in their kindness and love for their friends. For the millionth thing they’ve done for my family, I now issue my millionth “Thank You”. And when you see how well dressed these tots are – well, you’ll know where it comes from.