Many years ago, on a chilly Swedish afternoon, I was out shopping with a friend’s wife. Her name was Anna, and I was a co-worker of her husband’s, a tall Englishman who was more career-driven than most people I know. Anna was also English, and she and my friend had a young child, their only child, a sweet and beautiful little girl that I adored.
I remember the event like it was yesterday. I spent time with Anna because it helped my friend out, but Anna and I really didn’t have anything in common. I found her often a bit of a trial to deal with, but I was determined to slog it out to help my friend out, who was desperate for his English wife, who had not settled in at all to Swedish life, to have a friend there.
It was during my first frozen transfer for IVF. I had just lost my two babies about four months prior to that. My marriage to my then-husband was quietly snaking down the tubes, unlike my eggs, which couldn’t go anywhere. We had 5 babies sitting in a freezer in south Stockholm, and Swedish law prohibits the first de-thawed baby transfer to be any more than one embryo, so the one embryo went in. I was hopeful, but not optimistic. I was in the dreaded two week wait, that time when you just don’t know if you are pregnant or not, but can’t think about anything else.
Anna and I had a huge lunch, where I snacked on artichokes (my favorite food and, as Anna pointed out to me, artichokes are full of folic acid). I drank iced water and tried to think healthy thoughts. Anna spent the time talking about their daughter.
Then we went shopping-there was a baby and children’s clothing boutique around the corner. Not your typical shop full of newborn onesies, this shop had beautiful clothes that looked like they were planned and thought of and made with care. Anna wanted a cute new sweater for their daughter, so she was walking around the store.
I walked around as well, my stomach full of food and my uterus full of hormones, hope, and possibly a baby. I know that being in a shop like that is a bad idea for someone like me, especially someone like me in a time like that, but there I was. And as I walked around, I saw the most beautiful baby jumper that I had ever seen. It was soft yellow, and made of a material that should have been illegal it was so soft. It had a delicate neckline on it, and in my mind I saw myself wiping baby drool off the bottom of a smiling baby chin before it got on that neckline. I saw little hands reaching out the soft, gently flared sleeves.
I held it to my chest and decided I had to buy it. It was the most beautiful baby outfit I’d ever seen, and just knowing that I could see my baby in it meant, to me, that it was hope.
Anna came up to me, her arms full of goods.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m buying this,” I replied softly. “It’s perfect, it’s so beautiful.”
“Oh honey,” she said, turning her back and hanging up a dress on a rack. “You know you shouldn’t. It’s going to give you false hope, and I’d hate to see you get hurt as you know this round is going to fail.”
I was stunned.
It’s like a cheeky chap told me recently-sometimes you are so shocked by something someone says that you don’t have a response. Even when a bitch-slapping and a throw down is what’s needed, you are physically unable to respond.
I looked at the sweater, and it was no longer so beautiful, it was now a symbol of ruined dreams. I hung it back on the rack, rapidly wiping away tears and trying to keep her from seeing how upset I was, and croaked, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
Anna paid and we left.
My frozen IVF round did end in failure.
And I have never forgiven her for that moment in that shop. We don’t speak anymore, and that’s ok with me.
A few weeks ago an incredible chick sent me a link to a baby shop. I cooed with her over the amazing clothes on IM. I went through page after page of amazing baby clothes, cute, fun, happy things. And while I was on that page, I saw something that struck me in much the same way as the yellow sweater had. When I saw it, I saw our baby in it, their little hand coming out the sleeve, their cheerful drooly smile out the top. I saw bright eyes and a gummy smile.
And I ordered it.
It should arrive any day now.
And I’m not sorry, I don’t feel it’s a bad omen. If it turns out that I never have a baby at least I wasn’t afraid to take a moment back that was rightfully mine. If I have a baby this kid is wearing this item until they’re 21. If I don’t, then at least I have this moment where I saw our child in a piece of clothing, a beautiful piece of clothing, and I’ll always have that to hold when my arms are tired and lonely.
What a nasty woman, that Anna, to be so inconsiderate. I bought a baby boots when I was 20. I'm now 26 and I still have it. It's so adorable that it didn't matter if I have a child or not. I still don't have a child. Follow your heart, Vanessa.
That was a beautiful post, although I wish I could knock some sense and compassion into Anna. Grrr...
I haven't purchased any baby items, but I have my own baby blanket that I've wanted my future child to have for the longest time. It is rather hideous: a product of the '70's, it is bright orange with these huge, LSD-induced flower patterns. But it is soft and warm, and it was so loved and cherished by me when I was a child. I want to share it so badly with my baby that it aches.
Posted by: Ornery at January 27, 2006 04:44 PMEnjoy the anticipation and the hope. It's good for you and the future munchkin!
Posted by: sophie at January 27, 2006 02:46 AMfor me, it's a duckling baby blanket. softest thing ever. will it be filled? i don't know. but i bought it anyway, as a promise to myself of what might come someday, if things go that way.
Posted by: becky at January 26, 2006 06:05 PMFor Christmas 1998, about a year and a half after we got married, I bought two "baby" paintings for myself from our University to hang in our nursery. I didn't get to finally take them out of their tubes and frame / hang them on the wall until Christmas 2003, but it was a reminder that always gave me hope in the back of my mind throughout the process. I'm so glad you reclaimed that moment for yourself and I wish you all the best!
Posted by: robyn at January 26, 2006 03:34 AMOMG, now I'm crying.
I still cringe at the things I've thoughtlessly said in my life and I still ache inside at the times I was kicked in the teeth myself by similarly thoughtless words.
For what it's worth, I don't believe in omens. :-) I DO believe in hope and believing the best in life is yet to come. :-)
I think it's FABULOUS that you bought this sweater. :-)
/still crying
Posted by: Amber at January 25, 2006 11:03 PMwhen i got pregnant the first time, my mother bought me my first baby outfit, i keep it in hopes. when i get pregnant the 3rd time I bought my husband a onsie with his college name on it. i still hope. i thihnk buying somehting to hold onto as hope is nice.
sniff sniff
Posted by: Stephanie at January 25, 2006 07:51 PMI'd love to be able to do that. Even though I'm more hopeful now than I was years ago, I still have a hard time buying something "baby."
Posted by: statia at January 25, 2006 04:52 PMFor me, it's a pair of knitted baby booties that have little monkey faces on the toes. I keep them in a drawer in my desk, wrapped in white organza and tied with a white bow.
It's the one, and only thing I've ever purchased and I did it right before my first IUI. I will never let them go. They will always be the reflection of the time that I believed, that I hoped.
Posted by: April at January 25, 2006 03:38 PMHope is a wonderfully powerful thing.
You write so beautifully about all of this that I can't help but be there with you, cooing over all the same baby outfits.
I hope you're handy with a needle though, it's gonna need a lot of alterations over the years!
AxXx
Posted by: Lemurgirl at January 25, 2006 02:05 PMGood for you! I would of drop kicked that bitch, politely as possible of course ;)
Posted by: Cheryl at January 25, 2006 01:54 PMI can't believe that wench said that to you. Good for you for buying the outfit. Whatever it takes to keep you positive!
Posted by: donna at January 25, 2006 01:34 PM