Last week I told you that I was scheduled to have my big 20 week ultrasound. I’m happy to report that during the scan my little baby was wide awake, flipping around, and happy to give us the crotch shot we were hoping for. And this little baby is…a BOY!
Undeniably, I might add. I’m usually kind of an idiot in the ultrasound room, the one who is squawking, “What’s that? What’s that?!” the whole time. (I’m sure the technicians love me.) But this time when she scanned down to the pelvis I was all, “Oh, I know what THAT is!”
So, what does having another boy mean for our family? It means my husband and I can engage in formal battle over boy names. It means we had to tell our daughter that she is not getting the sister she was hoping for. (She actually took the news very well.)
It also means I can finally get rid of all the baby girl clothes! For years I saved both my kids’ baby clothes just in case we had Baby #3. And for weeks I’ve been telling everyone how excited I am to clean out all those boxes (either boy or girl) that have been stacked up in the bedroom closet, taking up so much precious space in our small house. I imagined myself pulling them out to be donated, giving them the righteous sniff, and gleefully reclaiming my storage.
But when the moment came this past weekend to finally do the massive clean-out, I had a pit in my stomach. I think my downfall was that I used clear bins to store the clothes. As I pulled the first bin out I spotted the dress my daughter wore at her first birthday party. Ouch. The next bin’s window revealed her first tiny bathing suit—size 3 months. Yeesh. Next was a little skirt she wore the summer she learned to walk. I can still see her puffy, diapered bottom in that skirt. I mean, come on. Any pregnant woman would be toast in this situation.
My husband found me on the floor of the bedroom, flooded with nostalgia and silently weeping over the small dresses, onesies, and overalls. I had to explain to him that I wasn’t crying because I’m unhappy we’re having a boy. I just realized my daughter’s babyhood is really, really over now. Somehow, using the boy clothes a second time will make my older son’s infancy last longer in my head. When I dress new Baby Boy in his brother’s clothes I know I’ll pause sometimes and remember how Big Brother looked in them. But what about Big Sister? Is this how it happens? One day you glance down at your daughter and she needs a bra and she can fit into your shoes and you’re left sobbing on the floor holding a tiny onesie with a cherry on the butt?!
In the end, I plucked those three items of clothing out of the donate boxes. I just can’t give them away. I put them in her Baby Box, along with some other memorabilia. I hope I remember to open up that box periodically and reminisce about her infancy and that little diapered bottom swishing back and forth down the hallway away from me.
Photo credit: iStock