Joy

I'm not that much of a saver, and by saver I mean one who keeps everything. I regularly clear out my closet (and the girls' and Craig's) and take loads to Goodwill. Clutter kind of drives me nuts, however, there is one exception to this rule and that would be baby/maternity stuff. I have at least twelve containers of baby/toddler clothes stored in our attic and one bursting bin of maternity clothes. Saving baby clothes I can understand. There's a ton of sentimental value loaded into Grace and Julia's newborn onesies, and I do have a younger sister whom at some point, one hopes, will settle down and have a family (if she wants). And I'm not without some limits (I did sell $300 worth of clothes and gear at a consignment sale a couple of year ago). It's the maternity clothes that boggle my mind (because my sister and I aren't the same size, pregnant or otherwise). After all, Craig got the ol' snip-snip back in December: what am I saving maternity wear for?

I got my answer this last weekend when my best girlfriend came into town for an overnight. Quentin's four months pregnant, and her once enviably flat stomach now has a little bump. I've sat on my hands for the last three months, willing myself to be restrained about all things baby. Quentin's pregnancy is very high risk. She's already lost two, and she's been understandably tentative about this one. On Saturday she gave me the go-ahead to lavish her with all the baby-minded attention I wanted, and so out came the bin of maternity clothes. As she sorted through the tops and dresses and pants, I knew why I had saved this stuff, why I had sold the worn out items, and kept the best. I kept it for her. I hugged her when this realization came and tears streamed down my cheeks.

I've petitioned the Universe: keep Quentin safe, keep her well, and let this baby come into the world. If you had ever seen Quentin with my kids, with Grace in particular, you would know this woman should be a mother. We can go months in between visits, and the love between Grace and Quentin never diminishes. Grace watched Quentin all day, often rubbing and kissing her belly. At one point, Grace lifted Quentin's shirt and laid her head down. Quentin and I met each other's eyes, and I whispered my silent petition, "keep her safe, keep her well, and let this baby come into the world". Let baby come so Grace can love and hold him or her, and I can indulge this child as Quentin has indulged mine. Nothing would bring me greater joy.