Tiny teddies

It's maybe a testament to my poor housekeeping skills, or just my utter hatred of laundry, that I seldom see the bottom of my laundry hamper.

It is our habit to tend to skim necessities off the top, or throw the top layer into the washer, with inertia hitting long before we explore the bottomless depths of the large, metal basket. When I do reach the bottom of the hamper, because I've been seized by an obsessive desire to get all of the laundry clean and put away, it is a cause for celebration and surprise, as I discover clothes and sheets and towels long forgotten.

Yesterday, I discovered this habit can bite me in the ass.

I got to the bottom of the hamper and didn't pay the least bit of attention as I scooped it all into the washing machine. So, it took me by complete surprise, as I was folding the clothes still warm from the dryer, when I ran into the tiny pajamas I had packed to take our baby home from the hospital. It took me a long time to unpack our hospital bad - it lurked in the closet for weeks - and when I did, I have a vague memory of quickly throwing clothes, blankets, bras et al into the hamper.

So there it was, a tiny white suit, soft as a cloud, covered in teddy bears.

I distinctly remember choosing those pajamas. In the stressful weeks leading up to Harper's birth, I packed and repacked the hospital bags, nervous that any appointment could turn into labor and delivery without notice. I knew the baby was small, but held on to the desperate hope all the scans were wrong, so I refused to buy any preemie clothes. Instead, I chose the smallest newborn outfits I could find from Shea's discards, beautiful, adorable tiny clothes that he barely wore because he grew out of them so quickly.

I chose the white one with the teddies, instead of anything blue, because I didn't want to reveal to Lou I'd seen the neonatologist's report and knew the testing revealed the XY chromosome.

In the end, Harper never wore her own clothes. Only the tiny loaned onesies and pj's from the NICU, when she wore clothes at all.

Time to put the pj's away. Again.

At least I know there are no more sad surprises lurking at the bottom of the hamper. It is empty.