There’s a strange emotional shift that happens when you’re expecting a baby, and it shows up in unexpected places like Christmas morning.
Opening gifts used to mean something for Bobby. This year, it meant onesies. Baby items. Tiny clothes that don’t even feel like a real gift. And while it’s thoughtful, it’s also confusing when gifts are Bobby’s love language and suddenly none of them are actually for you. That realization brought on a little guilt. Feeling ungrateful for baby gifts feels terrible, especially when everyone is just trying to celebrate what’s coming. But it’s hard not to notice the shift, especially when it feels like baby gifts are replacing what would’ve normally been his own. It makes sense, though, buying for a baby is easy, practical, and exciting.
The house has slowly transformed to reflect that change. The guest room no longer has a bed and now holds everything the baby needs. Bobby says calling it a nursery feels unnecessary, the baby doesn’t know what that is anyway. It’s just a room with baby stuff in it. A crib, a bassinet, a changing table, and a TV mounted on the wall for late-night rocking sessions. The TV isn’t for the baby, obviously. It’s for survival.
Baby clothes have quickly revealed themselves to be one of the biggest scams of parenthood. Newborn sizes barely get worn, if at all. Some babies arrive already too big for them. Others outgrow them almost immediately. Shoes are even worse: tiny, adorable, and destined to be useless in a matter of weeks. The idea of spending serious money on something that will be worn for such a short time feels absurd, especially after seeing designer baby outfits priced in the thousands. The plan is simple: use what’s needed, then give it away. Once the baby outgrows a stage, those clothes and items go directly to someone who can use them right away. Bobby believes there’s no sense in holding onto things just in case. If another baby ever comes along, they’ll buy what they need again. Babies are expensive enough without turning storage into a second job.
The house is stocked with diapers, including the shockingly small newborn ones. Social media has fully caught on to what’s happening in Bobby’s house, flooding every feed with pregnancy content after one paused video. Baby sizes are guesses at best, and even the doctors don’t always know how big a baby will be until they arrive. Everything feels estimated, improvised, and slightly out of control. Somehow, despite all of that, things feel mostly set. Not ready, no one is ever ready, but set enough. The furniture is in place. The deliveries have arrived. Even communication with delivery drivers turned into a small, unexpected win, built on a few Spanish words and the simple act of trying. It wasn’t perfect, but it was appreciated.
That’s where things stand. A house filled with baby gear, emotions that don’t always make sense, and a growing understanding that nothing is really about you anymore.
