Tissues Everywhere

I'm finding balled up tissues along every step of my day. In the pocket of my jeans, under my pillow, wedged between couch cushions, jammed into my purse...it goes on. I don't think it needs stating, but yes, I've been crying. A lot.

Not sitting around weeping, mind you. It just hits me suddenly, and just as quickly, I try to make it go away. I give myself 5 minutes to let it out, then I begin to calm. Not knowing what's ahead week by week will do that. In addition to the realization that this baby could be coming very early - in 10 weeks or less. And by coming early, we're looking at a long stay in the NICU. With or without surgery.

We took a trip to Babies r Us this weekend to scout things. Not to buy yet (still to nervous), but to get our hands on these items I've been researching and scouring reviews about. Our plan is to get the bare minimum as close to her arrival as possible. It's nice to think of a positive future, and move forward with our family plans. It was exciting to look around, but massively bittersweet.

Selfishly, I couldn't help but feel disappointment as I looked at all the little cute items I've previously pawed through while trying to match a sku on a baby registry. It hit me that I won't be having a shower of my own. I didn't plan on it for many reasons once we've been diagnosed, but it really hit me standing in front of a display of cuddly car seat covers and stylishly patterned changing pads. All those little things that invade your home to get you ready for baby's arrival will not be making an appearance at our place. Not until after the baby arrives anyway.

Of course, it's something I am over. It was my choice anyway. I'd rather have my baby girl join our family, than have a party (an event which many people dread and go to out of obligation anyway). I try to remain positive - it will be a much more joyous event to celebrate the safe arrival of this baby. Plus it gives me the opportunity to have a less traditional (and hopefully less dreadfully boring) baby-related party.

I made it through the store just fine. By the end, I started to feel a little numb. I was trying so hard not to look at the babies around me. Not to be angered by the distracted people who nearly mowed us down with their baby-occupied strollers. Not to be infuriated after overhearing someone say "I wish he was a girl, believe me." I kept trying to shove the frustration of these Saturday shoppers taking their amazing luck in having a healthy, normal babe for granted. 

We left the store, where I promptly lost it in the parking lot on our way back to the car. It was a small victory that I didn't get upset in the store. Mark put his arm around me and let me quietly cry into his shoulder as we walked. He told me to stay positive, and we'll make a good plan for her arrival. We'll have plenty of time once she's here to get prepared. By the time we made it to the car, I was calmer. We talked about our confusion over what we really need (travel system? does our stroller have to be as big as a shopping cart?). I blotted my eyes with yet another tissue, which I'll probably find jammed in between my passenger seat and the armrest later this week.