The Baby Box

I know, I know. I’m not even pregnant yet. I haven’t even chosen my sperm donor yet. But I’ve started to collect things. I have a big Rubbermaid container in the closet of the second bedroom — what will someday, I hope, be the nursery.

I have a Babe Ruth night-light, and children’s sized small Yankees/Ruth shirt. A light purple teddy bear. Some onesies and cute little outfits I’ve found on sales racks. In both sexes. Some books. Some pajamas from Old Navy. There is a baby name book and a pregnancy/exercise book for dummies. Most things I have bought myself, but I have had help with things that are just too cute to pass up by my sister-in-law and niece.

And when I went to the OB last week, she gave me a new magazine. In it was a contest (also several drawings that I’ve already entered) — to win the editor’s registry. $5,000 worth of very cool baby stuff. And not silly, cute extra stuff. But really useful things — a bassinet, a nursing system, car seat and stroller, baby backpack carrier, etc.

My entry was really the start of this column (you say blog, I say column — someday I will fulfill my dream to be Carrie Bradshaw!) so I won’t bore you with the details of my entry. It’s the same stuff you’ve heard.

But here’s my question — the little thing niggling at the back of my brain. Am I jinxing myself? Am I buying stuff too early? Am I getting ahead of the game, counting my eggs before I even know if they’re viable, so to speak?

I do worry about that. And I worry that I’m setting myself up for a colossal disappointment. But I have to remember that if it’s meant to be…. Someone wise once told me that God doesn’t make mistakes. He isn’t going to suddenly look down and say, “oh my….Ellie is still single and childless….how did I let that happen?” And so maybe the single thing is all part of the master plan. I have to believe that. And I have to believe that I’m meant to be a mom…someday…somehow.