So I am still holding on to the clothes…

For fear of dragging this rather old and very worn subject out into the sunlight again, please bear with me as I ramble through this one.

I have a ton, an absolute ton of baby girl clothes that I just cannot bring myself to give away (no matter how good or charitable the cause is).

Isabelle had so many baby clothes that some of them did not get worn, and being on the tubby side of sixteen months, she has outgrown a lot of them.  Some of them still have the labels on them, and the piles in her cupboard are piling up to the point where it is difficult to close the door.

Just to put it into context, I shop at the cheaper retail chains, and often pop in during sale time, so I get a lot of bang for my buck, and really love the allure of pink.

I have kept most of Isabelle’s things, barring a few bags I donated off to charity.

I can’t lie, the reason for my holding on to the cloths was that I was convinced that we were going to look at adopting a fourth child.  My mind’s eye had a girl featuring in full technicolour, and she would need a wardrobe!

My friend recently told me she was pregnant.

I thought fantastic – when she announces she is pregnant with a girl, I will then use it as a cleansing exercise and happily hand her a truckload of clothing which she can choose to use or to pass on.  She will be delighted, and I will have some sort of “open yourself to the universe” moment.

She then told me she was having a boy and she is super thrilled.  I am happy for her – but clearly I can’t give her the girl’s clothes. Not unless her child is going to dress like a fairy and be called Humperdink.

So I am back to a cupboard full of clothing.

I know part of the reason for the hoarding is that I am still (yes, I know still) waiting on Kennith to change his mind and give in to my fourth child laments – which I do not talk about out loud, but the conversation does go on in my head pretty much all the time.

I also appreciate that a final ruling on this matter has already been made.  But as you can well see, my inability to absorb information that I do not want to hear is operating at full capacity.  (insert image of little girl with fingers in ears going la-la-la-la-la here)

I know they are only clothes in plastic bags in the cupboard.  But they are starting to become something (even if it is only to me) symbolic and they are starting to be more than just clothes in a bag, albeit it several bags (I realise you can hear me popping the Zoloft blister pack right here ….)

So I am still holding on to the clothes, because I am not ready to part with them.

This morning I was chatting to a good friend whose wife is 14 weeks pregnant – I asked if they had found out the sex of the baby and whether they would tell me.

He said he would and she is pregnant with a girl – I am so thrilled, but now I face the quandary of my own design. I literally started to have a little panic at the thought of giving them the clothes …. so I just said nothing, other than the congratulations part, and let’s get together to celebrate.

Do I give her all these baby girl clothes, or do I sit quietly and push the already bursting cupboard closed a bit harder?

I spoke to another friend just after that email who is looking at starting the adoption process for themselves.  I then thought: well why don’t I just keep these clothes and I can then give it to her – assuming she is going to have a girl, as then I would have another 6 – 9 months to hold on to the clothes in the cupboard.

So I am still holding on to the clothes.

My reluctance to let go of these clothes, and my inability to let go of this “thing” is clearly a sign of impending doom and may result in another brutal conversation under the harsh kitchen lights.

So I am still holding on to the clothes.