A Need to Flee: Let It Go

We walked into the waiting room, our arms overfull of diapers, clothing, all manner of baby gear. Frozen was playing on the TV; Elsa was belting out "Let it Go." We had enough that it took both of us two trips to carry it all in. We were at the Pregnancy Resource Center of the South Hills to donate almost all of the baby things we had accumulated. Some of it was hand me downs, mostly from Husbandido's sister, most of the clothing, the swing, play mat, the thing to support baby in the bathtub. The Diaper Champ came from Freecycle, before we knew that having a baby wouldn't come easily. I bought the diapers in our early days of trying, when they were on super good sales. 

We started giving away our baby items this past summer, using some of them for gifts for family and friends who were expecting. But with our home study approaching, it's come time to clear out most of the baby gear. I've been rearranging many of the rooms in our house, trying to make it abundantly clear that we do have the space, and we are as ready as we can be without knowing number, ages, or genders of the children that we will be matched with. 

The receptionist seemed surprised to receive quite many items and thankful; she made it clear how much it was appreciated and would go to those who needed it. She even let us know that many of the women donate the items that received when they no longer need them. 

Everything delivered, we stepped back into the hallway, and I started sobbing. Though we are still working with PPVI, we have no expectation that treatment will work. I no longer expect to choose names, see our child on an ultrasound, experience all of the highs and lows of pregnancy. I no longer expect to be the only mother that our children will have; I now expect to have to hide my distress when "You're not my real mom." is hurled at me again and again. Though it's been an extended process, donating all of these things has been the biggest, most concrete step of letting go. And it hurts.