I had a baby. So now we're moving. This is a pattern for us. Have baby, embark on switching homes, from settled home to a new place, one that always seems to need work. In this case it's primarily paint, but several hundred square feet worth of paint. While "learning" remotely. D'Garebear is on track to start walking right about the time we open the first box. Preparing to move means purging. Getting rid of things is one of the most enjoyable things I know to do. I spent the first few weeks of quarantine cleaning out everything. Only to realize all my work would have to stay bagged up waiting for donation centers to reopen. No good deed and all that jazz. Despite the angst that seeing bags of donations waiting to go cause me, it was worth the work. The purging is a necessity in a small house in particular, since the Father Figure tends to be a collector. Collector of things, computer parts,comic books, games, tools, cars, children....and everything takes up space. 

Space is a valuable commodity so naturally we have very little of it. It's a constant source of stress for me and even with a larger house on the horizon, with plenty of storage it's something I'm worried about. So much so, as I laid on the beach, dozing in the sun, I mentally arranged my future laundry room. The Father Figure side-eyed me hard after hearing that, but it's the mom brain, it just doesn't turn off.

 And that was part of the emotional challenge of welcoming D'Garebear. It probably sounds silly, but I was overwhelmed at the thought of acquiring baby things again, even though we kept things down to a minimum. I felt a door that I had closed reopen, with diapers and baby toys to try to edge out the soccer cleats and book bags that were already cluttering up my life. Closing that door, getting rid of all the baby things after X-Man and Cinco was a very emotional time. I cried, much more than I probably should have. I sent cute clothes off to gestating nieces and nephews but it was very bittersweet. 

Getting rid of D'Garebear's things, which are mostly getting donated until some new baby boy appears on the horizon, isn't emotional at all. I enjoy it. There's a great sense of satisfaction and relief. And this bothered me. Was I really this heartless and frustrated by D'Garebear's disruption of our lives? I don't think that's it. Sure I'm writing this and watching D'Garebear systematically empty the laundry basket, babbling away to me. Discovering that if he pushes it, he can throw clothes all over the living room. I think I'm not sad to see him outgrow his clothes because each size he goes up is a little victory. He started out as a micro-preemie, so outgrowing clothing for six month olds by his first birthday is a happy accomplishment. Every bag of giveaway is another step in the right direction. And they have been some massive steps. D'Garebear rests comfortably in the 50th percentile for his birth age, which is quite the accomplishment. Preemies are typically measured according to their "adjusted age" as if they had been born on their due date. But D'Garebear found that too easy for his Italian tummy and he went to town on all food. He's constantly worried that someone somewhere is eating and he's not in on the action. I supposed that's why he's the size he is, all his energy has gone to eating, so much so he forgot to grow hair.

 So now, I'm not sad to see him outgrow clothing. Everyday we get with him is a surprise. I had shut this door, and was at peace with it being closed. So I'm at peace with D'Garebear growing up. He's a fun surprise and there's something extra comforting about being able to really enjoy every step he takes growing bigger and stronger. That's not to say that every preemie outfit he has isn't tucked away safely in a keepsake box. I'm not completely heartless. Although I stare at them and wonder how this lug of a baby ever was that small. Those NICU weeks seem a blur these days. I think the quarantine and all those extra hours home, with nowhere to go have become my chief memories of Baby D'Garebear. I just really remember Baby D'Garebear as a healthy infant. And I look forward to seeing him as a healthy toddler.

And I look forward passing along his outgrown clothes.