Friday, August 29, 2014

I Don't Belong Here

Bookmark and Share
Change is in the air.  The mornings are crisp and fall feels like it is approaching faster than usual.  Yet, we still have the occasional teasers of warm days misleading me on how much time I truly have until I'm saying goodbye to all summer blooms.   This means one thing to a mom:  prepare for fall appropriate clothing. 

All my coupons and discounts led me to land on the doorstep of Kohl's.  Armed with intentions of finding soft fabrics in cute boyish style.  There I was searching the section I've always shopped in, the baby & toddler isles.  I must have circled and toured four times before finally realizing that the sizes stopped at 4T.   Confused I thought well, they just haven't stocked a proper supply or they're recovering from all the back-to-school sales.  Slightly disappointed that I had to walk away from my quest I wandered aimlessly about only to look up and find a cute little vested hoodie that caught my attention in the big boy section.  I simply wanted to know it's price.  Upon closer inspection it was a size 5T.  I looked to my left and to my right.  All of it 5T.  

Instantly it felt like someone shot an arrow through my heart.  I can't be in 5T.  I can't be in this section - this big boy section.  I don't belong here.  I belong over there... in the baby... in the toddler section.  The confusion in my mind is hard.  And instantly I realize, that yes although your child has the skills of a baby, and you still feed him bottles, spoon feed him pureed foods, and change his diapers... he is the size of a young big boy.   I didn't like how it felt.  I hate how it still feels.   It's unfair, so terribly unfair.   While he's graduated into big boy clothing, Noah cannot do big boy things.  

Moments like this make me ache with how things should have been, a glaring reminder of more milestones that you and your child can't experience together.   Worried that other customers would detect the distress in my face and these smothering rush of feelings that came from nowhere,  I looked through the selection of folded shirts and pants.  I tried to seem interested, focused on what I came to do.  Buy warm clothing.   The graphics and prints were less than cute.   Everything felt like it had a tough edge to it.  Where I gravitated towards the sweet, tender prints of pastel blues and puppy dogs that lingered on the opposite side of the store.  But I can't live there anymore... here I am stuck in big boy clothing.  Nothing was soft, the jeans rougher than I wish they were for Noah's delicate skin, shirts that made statements that were bold.   But I managed to find some sweatpants and a couple long sleeved shirts that would at least get Noah started with long sleeves and pants.  

Still nursing these raw feelings I made it to the cashier, wandering without direction just trying to make my way to the car before shedding these stupid tears that you suck in and suppress as long as humanly possible so the world doesn't realize that you're not as strong as you want everyone to believe.   I probably couldn't have swiped my debit card any faster if I was trying to win a competition for the fastest payment.  And out the door I flew and into the car fleeing for the comforts of home, to hold that child in my arms, as I've always done since he was a baby, as I still do today. 


Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.