Crying in Carter’s

Nov 18 2024 Crying in Carter’s

A couple of weeks ago, as I walked through our local Carter’s store, a few tears slipped down my cheeks as I gently picked up and admired the darling baby girl clothing. My heart rang with a long, unfulfilled yearning to dress a baby girl in full feminine regalia.

With each of my pregnancies, I dreamed of a daughter. Hoped for a daughter. Prayed desperately for my girl. With each ultrasound, I grieved when the boy parts showed themselves on the screen.

It took years for me to stop missing who I hoped would be.

Yet, as the proud mother of four grown sons, there is no way, no how, I would trade them. (Although there were times when they were teens, I was more than willing to exchange them temporarily.)

We lived a hectic life in a world of “boy.” I soaked in this foreign land: I changed thousands of diapers (one quickly learns the skill of not getting sprayed), played with matchbox cars and LEGOS (how many times did I step on those things?), tackled unending surprises, fixed constantly breaking things, attended hundreds of ball games, and watched testosterone-laced competitions in the living room or backyard on the daily.

My energetic (I would never say hyper) offspring were filled with boundless curiosity, a competitive spirit—especially with one another—and fierce brotherly love. The decibel level was regularly above what the human ear can and should tolerate.

Then there was the mess. Mercy, the disaster that was our home.

I lived in a G-rated junior frat house—okay, sometimes it wasn’t so G-rated.

Amidst the chaos, there were moments of sweetness. I treasured the times we all piled on the couch or floor to watch a movie or read. I delighted in the random hugs and “I love you’s.” My favorite time of the day was tucking them in with prayers and cuddles. Then, as the hormones percolated, the late-night talks. They confided in me their hopes, fears, plans, and heartbreak. And there I was, propping my eyes open so I wouldn’t miss a single minute.

Snips and snails,

And puppy-dogs’ tails.

That’s what little boys are made of!

As the boys grew, I would joke that they would all give me granddaughters, thinking this mom-fulfilling prophecy would supersede genetics and the plans of the Giver of Life.  

When our son, Sam, and daughter-in-love, Lauren, told us the glorious news that they were expecting, I wept joyfully. The best news ever!

I immediately told them this baby was likely a boy because of the strong boy genes.

But I was wrong…

She’s a girl. My granddaughter will join our family in March. The due date is March 8th, in fact. My birthday.

I am over the moon with excitement. And, of course, I had to go shopping.

So, there I was in Carter’s, in the actual girl section, when the tears hit, culminating in an emotive and embarrassing mini-meltdown. A Carter’s associate asked if I was okay, and through subdued sobs, I stammered that these were happy tears. Poor thing. What do you do with a customer like this?

Buying clothes for Baby Girl was one of the most joyful purchases of my adult life. Maybe she’ll be a girly girl and allow me to spoil her with all the fun, frilly things. Are play-times with baby dolls and Barbies in my future? A not-so-foreign-land this time around.

Sugar and spice,

And everything nice.

That’s what little girls are made of!

I’m sure there will be grandbaby boys, and I will treasure them all. But this girl, the leader of the pack, will have a special place in my heart, a spot that’s held space for her for decades.

Oh, and I signed up for the Carter’s rewards program. Because I will be back.

“Joy is the simplest form of gratitude.”

Kari Barth