The Bag In The Back Of The Closet

I was a little heartbroken today as I went through the kid’s clothes and carefully laundered and folded a few items and stuffed them neatly in a bag in the back of the closet. I don’t know what to do with them, these first items of clothes that he has grown out of. I have a girlfriend who just found out she is knocked up with a little boy. I could send them to her. My older sister, who already has a brace faced, be speckled teenaged bundle of joy, just got married and even though she and her new hus have decided they enjoy the thought of  being D.I.N.K.s in three short years, I suspect they may change their minds after they hold my little monster and smell his precious little head. I was Skyping with her on the phone a few weeks ago, right after the kid was born and she was married. He was sitting on my lap, munching on his fingers, when he let out a coo that stopped big sister right in the middle of a sentence. Her voice softened and I could hear her uterus squeal as she said “was that him?” Maybe I should save the stuff for her.

Most of the items were worn very gently. Just the other day I was telling her she should only bother getting rompers with snaps for the first weeks of her little boy’s life because once she sees how his umbilical cord strains under the elastic band of little baby pants, she will take the offending items off, tuck them into the back of the closet and look for a romper for him, at least till the last remnant of their months long connection has finally fallen off.  It smells a little like rotten maple syrup, by the way. The cord stump does. It is sweet and sickly smelling. Just like how sticky scabs smelled when you’re a kid. I’m sure sticky scabs smell the same all the time, but true be told, I haven’t had a sticky scab since I was under five feet tall (fourth grade for me) so I can’t tell you for sure they smell like that for life.

I guess I’m wistful about the newborn clothes because I can’t believe my newborn has only one more week left of being a newborn, technically, whether he can fit into the clothes of one or not.  After that, he will be considered to be just an infant. In fact, some sources insist a week ago, the newborn designation went away. At five weeks, he still fits into most of his newborn clothes but his porky little butt is almost ready to move into the 0-3 size. His rompers, the items I was so happy to have, are the first things to be tucked away. His little legs have grown three inches and while the torso and arms may still fit if only just, his little feet are now squeezed in the fuzzy bears and his legs pull the whole getup tight when he stretches them out all the way.

I’m pretty sure he weighs around ten or eleven pounds now.  The size some babies are born at. He weighed 6 lbs 7 oz and was 20 inches long at birth and had a had a normal birth, I would have been very grateful he was on the small size because looking at this little chunk and imaging it being born is just scary.  By his two week check up, he was 8 lbs 9 oz and an inch longer.  We haven’t been to the pediatrician since week three when we quickly made a clinic appointment so the doc could look at his funky toe nails that looked like they were ingrown. They were, sort of but sort of not too. They are still working their way out but are nearly normal and only occasionally bother him. The doc said this is all normal. Soak ’em in warm salt water and push the skin under the nail and watch it for infection. Simple. I don’t remember how much he weighed at that appointment, but it was about a half pound more. I’m sure it was something like that.

I on the other hand, have not gained weight but  I haven’t lost a single ounce in weeks  either.  While I understand I just had a kid five weeks ago and I’m breastfeeding and I need to be patient and blah, blah, blah, it’s still hard to take. Also annoying, not having pants with pockets and zippers that fit. I may have had something in my closet that would fit, but I sent most of my stuff packing (I’m moving, again) and that stuff is 3000 miles away. I don’t even know what size I am anymore. I do know that my body is not even close to the same shape. The proportions are all off.  I’ve never had a chubby tummy, even when I was 200 lbs.  I was only 200 lbs +/- 15 lbs or so for two years during my twenties when I was in a horrible starter marriage and nightly found solace in a couple bottle of shiraz. By the time I decided to leave that marriage, I was also almost done with college and about to embark on a career where looks matter and ready to say hello to a size two pant. Even then, even at 50 lbs give or take a few more than I weigh in now, I at least looked well proportioned and toned.

My stomach is still soft and squishy. Santa like, it shakes when I laugh like a bowl full of jelly. My ass is dimpled. My legs are still swollen above the knees. My breast are two different sizes. Not just a difference of one size but one side has a cup size of F and the other has a D cup size. They are also a totally different shape now one looking fairly normal and the other mostly nipple and veins and hanginess. Of course, the F size behemoth is the vein covered nipple boob. Luckily, black covers many sins and I’m still in the Pacific Northwest so not only am I not expected to dress fashionably but the weather calls for long cardigans over my leggings (fuck I’m so tired of leggings) most of the time anyways. Win!

I have found myself planning the kid’s outfits around how much longer he will fit into something rather than how much I want him to wear a particular item for a particular occasion with the items he will be most likely to grow out of the next the most frequent in the rotation. Luckily, babies are messy and he has enough diaper blow-outs (mostly pee leaking out the top of the front) that I get to pull a couple different onsies over his screaming face a day. At least there is that and then there is also the cute 0-3 size clothes he is yet to pee on. You see, the bag in the back of the closet doesn’t just hold the items he has outgrown, but also the items he has not grown into yet. For sure a win.


About fellinto

Writer, pregnant chick, lover of dogs, food and loud music. View all posts by fellinto

One response to “The Bag In The Back Of The Closet

  • Pauline Hanson

    Can’t wait till you get to Maine and get some more clothes! If it makes you feel better…I still have a stash of my favorite things that Janice and Sean had when they were younger….some things are just too damn precious…….you are in love…he is your love…get used to it! 🙂 its the best feeling in the world!!!!! I love you, my sweet! I can’t wait to hold him!!!! and hug you!!!!! all my love….

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