I can admit it, I was a bit lackadaisical about my hospital bag. Though, even with my ambivalence towards that bag, I know I still overpacked it. I know it was overpacked because the majority of things in there were not utilized a single time during my hospital stay. I can only imagine, had my baby been able to process what was happening as I packed, that he would have been amused by the whole process. In fact, I can imagine a few things a baby thinks about an overpacked hospital bag and, thanks to said imagination, something as simple as a packed "go time" hospital bag can be really, really entertaining.
Perhaps it's because we lived about three minutes from the hospital or, perhaps it's because I was so overwhelmed by the thought of giving birth that things like pajama bottoms felt irrelevant. In the end, though, I think it was probably because I took great comfort in knowing that all over the world, women give birth without a fully stocked hospital bag at their side, so surely it wouldn’t be a deal-breaker if I forgot something, right? I had enough to worry about and decided to focus on those things, instead of the bag that would sit by my door and taunt me during the end of my pregnancy.
Would my baby really care if he had a lovey from home, or a blanket from his nursery, instead of what was provided for us and available at the hospital? I mean, I don’t have a way to ask him since my son definitely doesn’t remember that day, but I suspect no. Here’s a few more things I suspect he might have felt about that bag:
"You Won’t Need That"
He might have been thinking about the DVDs I included, or the medley of toiletries that I never bothered with, or the tablet or the, well, you get the idea.
Of course, every woman and every birth experience is different, so other moms will likely have different experiences and attachments to what’s in their bags, but the majority of what was in mine probably wouldn't matter to most people.
“You Won’t Need ANY Of That”
This could have been said about pretty much everything except the changes of clothes. Still, need is different than want, baby, and I will teach you that someday.
“It’s Sweet That You’re Trying, Though”
Aw, thanks little man. This might actually be an ongoing theme for the rest of our lives.
“You’re Not Going To Need That Bag For At Least Six Weeks”
In my defense, there’s no way for either of us to really know that, is there? So for the time being, it’s going to remain packed and sitting on the dresser, getting in the way, for the next month and a half.
“If You Pack That Now, You’re Going To Come Back For It Like Eight Times”
Maybe I should just buy an extra toothbrush. That would probably be the smarter option.
“Remember, You’re Coming Back With More Than You Came With“
That’s true. Not only are we returning with another person, we’ll have our first ever experience of managing all of his gear, too, including but not limited to the little hats that the hospital put on him, and that clutch bath kit.
“Did You Ask The Hospital How Many People Actually Watch TV In The Delivery Room? Or Listen To Music?”
I didn’t ask, because I knew it would break my heart to know how slim the chances were that I’d be able to enjoy it. Please, let me just keep hope alive, and pretend that there's a reason to bring Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire with us.
“You’re Probably Forgetting Something”
Thanks, son. Although, I thought you weren’t supposed to be this critical of me until you become a teen.
“I Don’t Understand The Big Deal About Slippers”
I know, we’re at least a year away from you walking, but trust me: cold floors are the worst. If there’s anything that could ruin the bliss of birthing you, that’d be it.
“I Really Don’t Care What Music Is Playing When I Show Up. I Don’t Even Know What Music Is.”
Yes, you do. It’s those awesome sounds you can hear in utero that usually go along with the rhythmic bouncing and loud car-singing that I know you’ve been enjoying for the last couple months.
“Please Don’t Forget My Clothes”
This is a totally fair request and I’d be asking the same thing if I were in your shoes. Don’t worry, little man, I’ve got you. I’m bringing more clothes for you than you could ever possibly need.
“Don’t Worry, You Can Redeem Yourself With A Properly-Stocked Diaper Bag”
No one tell him that when he’s nearly two and a half, I’ll still be trying to get that diaper bag under control.
“I LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU PACKED, MOM. YOU'RE GOING TO BE THE BEST MOM EVER.”
Maybe I'm projecting just a little bit with this one. But, a girl can dream, right?