The last days of Hema.

Dear Z,

About four months before you were conceived, I went to the Netherlands to stay for a week with our friends and their 5 month old baby. We walked the baby through the red light district (where the ladies waved to the baby from their red doorways), we devoured stroop waffles, we wandered solemnly through Anne Frank's house, we pondered modern art and we marvelled at 1,000 kinds of licorice packed into one tiny licorice store.

We also spent considerable time in Hema, the Dutch equivalent of Target. Specifically, the baby clothes department.

This was the first time that I really spent time with a mom and a baby and I was not so discretely wondering if this was really what I wanted, if this was really something I could do. My friend made it look lovely and was an adventurous, generous hostess. And I didn't do NEARLY enough to help her (for which I hereby officially beg her forgiveness).

I came home with a hopeful and slightly-less-clueless idea of new motherhood and a bag full of adorable baby clothes that I told myself and my husband were for friends. Of course, I secretly planned on keeping most of them for my "someday" baby. The smallest thing I bought was a cute flowered onesie that I knew I would keep because I always hoped that I would have a baby girl. The largest thing I bought was a bright striped onesie that I thought could be unisex. As far in the future as having a child seemed to me at the time (ahem, not so far in the future, as it turns out), I bought them anyway. Little wishful talismans.

You are now outgrowing the last of your Hema clothes. So today, I pause and think back to my time in the Netherlands. When I couldn't possibly imagine the little torso and limbs that would fill these clothes. I didn't know how sweet this would be. I didn't know how hard it would be either.

I DID know how cute it would be.

Love,

Your Clueless But Hopeful Mama