The unexpected outcome of unpacking

After two stressful days of unpacking and moving boxes, my mom and I decided to take a break and go through the fun stuff. Most people (ie, my sister) would take that to mean either their personal belongings like clothes or cooking spices but for us the fun stuff is BABY CLOTHES!

PJs room isn’t anywhere near being done so we decided to just start organizing the stuff into what needs to go into storage (stuff that doesn’t fit) and stuff that we can start selling. It was a lot easier deciding to sell or give away these clothes because PJ never wore any of them. We have a few nice pieces that I kinda wish I could save for any future littles we might have running around here but realistically that won’t happen for another few years. Why keep stuff when I know I’m just going to end up buying new then anyway…

After about an hour of monotonous exchanges of “keep?” “toss!” we came across the boys clothes. When we packed our stuff into storage we still didn’t know if we were having a boy or a girl. If you would’ve asked me at any point before 14 weeks if we were having a boy or a girl I would’ve sworn we were having a boy. I wanted a boy sooooo badly but then one day at around 14 weeks I was talking with a friend about the baby and said, “blah blah blah she’s hungry which makes me gag.” My friend looked at me and said, “SHE?!” From that moment on something inside of me just clicked and I KNEW, I knew that I knew, that the little frijolito inside of me was a girl. So much so that during the sex ultrasound (not gender, people) I screamed at Carlos “I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU!” I mean, I’m sure I’m not the only person to do so but hey it happened.

Opening up that box of little boy people clothes my heart just started melting and my uterus was screaming. I remembered all the sweet and tender moments that I was blessed with when pregnant with PJ. My favorite memory of pregnancy was a day Carlos and I spent by the lake at our apartment. I don’t remember the details of the day other than it smelled like rain. We were talking about our future and trying out baby names when all of a sudden we heard this roaring sound heading for us. We saw the ducks start flying toward us not realizing that they were actually flying away from this wall of rain. It was coming so fast we had to sprint from the lake to our first floor apartment to avoid getting wet. The millisecond we reached the door the rain was splashing at our feet. I vividly remember slamming the door shut behind us and laughing together. I looked at my husband in that moment and realized I never loved him more than I did at that moment. He didn’t do or say anything romantic or do any sort of grand gesture to cause that surge of tenderness, but from what I can guess it was the overall sincerity of the moment.

Since then there have been hundreds, if not thousands, of moments like that. Small, insignificant moments where I get this overwhelming rush of love for him. Like the first time he wore PJ in the Moby wrap, when he sang PJ to sleep when I was pregnant, or whenever PJ comes up to him with a book in her hand he sits her on his lap and starts to read to her.

I didn’t know how much I could love my husband until our daughter was born. All over the internet you read these anonymous cries of women all of the world complaining about their husbands that checked out once baby came. They don’t help at all with their children and see any involvement in child rearing as babysitting. But I was blessed with a man that not only loves me but adores our daughter. He has changed and fed her just as many times as I have, he still wakes up in the middle of the night with me whenever she cries, and he never makes it seem like spending time with us is a chore. We were lucky enough that he was able to be with her all day, every day for her first year and a half of life. And his love for her has allowed for my love for him to grow to an unimaginable capacity.

It’s not like I somehow forgot about this and unpacking brought on all these emotions. I’ve always known I love my husband and have been conscious of how the past two years have allowed me to fall more in love with him, but remembering the early days just brought these feelings to the surface in a way that I couldn’t expect.

Although we’re getting rid of most of the clothes due to a lack of storage space I hope to hold onto these memories and one day share them with our daughter. I hope that when she reaches that age of wanting nothing to do with her wacky and annoying parents she can see that all we’ve ever had for her was love. That one day when she’s looking for a partner she finds someone that loves her just as much as her father loves me, if not more.

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USAmerican immigrant living in Uruguay raising my daughters the best I know how. I plan on using this site to share our experiences and how I raise my daughters in a culture so very different from what I'm used to.

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