Mom just shook her head, the way she did when she thought people were tempting fate. In her view, you waited until the baby arrived, then the husband and relatives ran out and bought what was needed in a day. “Mom, seriously,” Katie said, laughing.
“It’s the twenty-first century. We want everything ready before the baby comes home. We want her to have a cozy little nest.” That evening we stayed at the table for a long time, making plans for the weekend and laughing.
Looking at my sister’s happy face, at Ben’s steady care, at my husband’s thoughtful smile, and even at Mom’s familiar grumbling, I felt my heart fill with a quiet warmth. This was my family, and I felt lucky to belong to it. Saturday morning, just as planned, we headed to a big baby store out by the mall.
The day was sunny but cool in that unmistakable fall way. The second Katie stepped into that huge showroom full of cribs, strollers, and shelves of tiny clothes, she stopped like a kid in a toy store. Her eyes lit up.
“Oh my gosh, look at all this. I don’t even know where to start.” “Easy,” I said, taking her arm with a grin.
“We start with the fun part. Clothes.” We could have wandered those aisles for hours.
I picked up tiny onesies soft as clouds, little footed sleepers with bears on the knees, and socks small enough to fit over my thumb. The pastel colors, the softness of the fabric, the sheer size of everything made something inside me tremble. I pictured a tiny hand wrapping around my finger, little feet kicking inside those absurdly small pants.
In those moments I could almost feel the emptiness in me filling with borrowed joy—still not mine, but close enough to warm me. Katie carefully pushed a stroller back and forth, testing how it turned and folded. Meanwhile, Ben and Evan stood with serious expressions listening to a sales associate explain the pros and cons of different crib models.
They looked less like men buying nursery furniture and more like they were comparing SUVs. Evan, with his doctor’s mindset, asked about safety standards, mattress support, and materials. Ben cared more about how the crib would look in the nursery and whether it would last.
Watching them, I couldn’t help smiling. Each in his own way, they were already trying on fatherhood. In the end we bought everything: a beautiful white crib, a good stroller, a top-rated car seat, and piles of clothes, blankets, and toys.
At the register, Ben firmly pulled out his card and shut down every attempt we made to chip in. “This is our gift,” I said, trying to push his hand away. “Nope,” Ben said with a smile.
“Your gift is all the help. This part’s on me.” On the drive home, with the car packed full of boxes and shopping bags, Katie let out a happy sigh.
“I’m so lucky to have all of you. This baby is going to grow up surrounded by so much love.” Sunday morning we gathered at Katie and Ben’s place.
Their house was full of sunlight and the smell of fresh baking—Mom had made her apple pie. The plan was simple. The guys would put together the crib while Mom, Katie, and I sorted the purchases, washed and folded baby clothes, and got the room ready.
“All right, gentlemen, let’s get to it,” Ben said, opening the huge box of crib parts. Evan studied the instruction sheet. “This thing has enough pieces to build a satellite,” he said dryly.
Mom and I carried bags into the nursery. It was a small bright room with a window facing a quiet cul-de-sac. Still empty, it felt like it was waiting for someone.
We spread the tiny clothes out on the floor, and the room immediately filled with that sense of expectation. “All this fuss ahead of time,” Mom muttered again, but I saw her eyes shine when she picked up a little knit cap with ears. “Still, I hope everything goes smoothly.”
“Mom, please,” Katie said, tired now as she lowered herself into a chair. “Everything’s going to be fine. We just want it to be ready.”
A couple of hours later, the crib was assembled. White, clean-lined, and sturdy, it stood in the middle of the room like a promise. “Looks good,” Ben said, wiping his forehead.
