I am a typical Libra.

Look up anything written about us and I am a perfect match. We strive for balance but often fail to find it. Our pendulum swings when it should be holding steady and they often swing the exact opposite way in which you had hoped. Knowing this about myself I try to create firm rules before any big next step. I try set boundaries so I can avoid all that swinging.

When we started the foster care process we made some decisions. We had to choose the age of the children we wanted, we were asked about gender, medical issues, race, religion etc. We made all of these decisions easily and without hesitation.

We knew we would need to purchase a great deal of baby gear to get licensed and were fine with that. We  said we would choose, safe, attractive items that fit into our budget. We would not go overboard, we would not choose “dream” items. After all, nothing is certain in the foster system. We could not get licensed, not get a child or only have a child briefly. Why set ourselves up for more heartache?

So, we have been carefully searching for the most important item; the crib. I thought I found the perfect one weeks ago. The next logical step was bedding. As a general rule I hate baby bedding. None of it appeals to me. I used to tell S that when we had a baby we would have to have something made, because I would never find anything I liked. I do not know why, but for some things I must have something unique and all together perfect. I mean, it took me 9 months to find a wedding invitation I found suitable. 9 months!!!  I remembered our deal though. I quickly found something I would label “cute”. It was gender neutral, affordable and well, cute.

However, something came over me last night. It dawned on me that this may be our only chance to parent. We might not be able to afford treatment, or it may not work. This could be it. My heart ached, my eyes filled with tears. I stared at the extra room and allowed the thoughts to take over. This might be our only nursery. Why shouldn’t  it be special in every way? Why shouldn’t we have something unique and special going on in here?

Uh-oh.

Against my better judgement I sat at the computer and searched for the exquisite. I went slack- jawed at the round crib, my breath literally taken away. It was gorgeous and unique and very special. It was also $1,500.00. I calculated the amount of sperm that could buy, the number of OOP HSG’s, bloodwork and meds that equaled. I saw S pack her bags and leave me telling everyone I had lost my ever-lovin mind. I sighed and told myself there was such a thing as too unique, too special. I moved on…

Next, I went hunting for bedding. Something better than cute must exist. I kept looking and then I found it. The perfect bedding. It’s different, but not weird . It’s elegant and almost a tad too fussy to be baby, especially boy baby, bedding. It’s only just slightly more than double the price of the “cute” bedding. I am in love.

It made me cry because I know this might be our only shot and I know that with that bedding and all its perfect coordinating pieces, I will have a little bit of my dream nursery. It may seem stupid to get all worked up over bedding, I know. It’s just that, for me, a crib and bedding makes it seem very real.

A baby might come to live in our home. I may get to push a stroller and make bottles and change diapers. Tiny fingers may grasp mine, I may see a child take their first step, say their first word. I may get a little piece of the dream I have been dreaming for so long.

The pendulum swings away from practical.

Somehow, sensible, practical and plain old cute don’t seem enough when we are buying the stuff dreams are made of.

I am not sure how I will do it, but I will convince S to let me have this one thing. It really is beautiful.

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