Gloves and an Abandoned Shopping Cart

A couple weeks before Christmas, I was in Babies R Us shopping for three little girls.

The first was Madison, my goddaughter.  Born on my birthday, she was going to be 6 months at Christmas.  

The second was Molly.  Molly was born a month before Maddy to our good friends, Hugh and Kim. Though they live in New York, I stalk their online pages regularly for updates about how they're all doing.

Finally, there was Maggie.  Short for Magnolia, Maggie was born to Leo and Jen a few days after my nephew, Isaac, and she, too, was a premature peanut.  

Anyway, I was excitedly filling up my shopping cart with adorable dresses, onesies and winter sets when a well-meaning woman nodded my way and said, "Awww, shopping for your baby girl, huh?"

I sorta glanced at her, but before I could answer, she again nodded at my stomach area and asked, "When are you due?"

*Sigh*

Truth be told, it wasn't entirely her fault.  I was wearing my coat and happened to have my gloves stuffed in the pockets.  For comparison, here is what my winter coat looks like with and without gloves:

---

No Gloves

With Gloves

It might not seem like a huge difference, but in person, I can totally understand why someone might suspect I'm pregnant if they don't realize I've got gloves stuffed in my pockets, ESPECIALLY if I've got a cart stuffed to the brim with nothing but baby girl items in the newborn - 6 month range.

Anyway, I wasn't sure what to say.  Honestly, I didn't want her to feel embarrassed, so I didn't correct her regarding my lack of pregnancy.  Secondly, I felt the familiar rush of grief because it was another reminder that I would've still been pregnant (and noticeably so) with Myla and I would've been filling my cart with girly things for her had I not miscarried.  

I chewed back tears.  I physically chewed them back.  I never understood that euphemism before, but stupidly standing in the middle of the store in front of a stranger who unknowingly stabbed a flaming sword through my heart, I physically had to clench my jaw repeatedly so I wouldn't lose it.  

I somehow forced what I hope was a smile at her and simply nodded back. I then pushed my cart up a different aisle, took my purse, and abandoned ship.

I felt terrible that a store clerk would have to put back the cart-full of outfits I'd plucked for the girls, but I was beginning to feel suffocated.  I couldn't have made myself stay even if someone had offered me a hundred dollars.  

I haven't actually been back since that happened.  In lieu of clothing and accessories, I purchased Maddy, Molly and Maggie a keepsake book that Vincent got for his first Christmas.  He STILL loves it, and I hope the girls and their parents get to build just as many happy memories with their books as Vince and I still create with his.  

I still feel kinda guilty, though, that I didn't put together the gifts like I'd originally wanted. This has been a lot harder than I thought it would be.  I thought I'd gotten past a lot of the super-charged emotions.  Sometimes I'm perfectly okay.  Most of the time I'm okay.  It's those unexpected moments that pull the rug out from under me.  I hate that I can't always control my feelings on this.  I hate that it can (and does) spring up without warning.  

But I guess that's just how love is.  It's powerful that way, even when the love you share is with someone on the other side of the veil.  

Merry Christmas, Myla.  I wonder how you spent your first celebration of Jesus' birthday.  Did you see the candle Mommy lit for you?  Love you, sweetie.  Always.