The postpartum period is difficult enough; you don’t need to be criticized for your weekly trips to Target….am I right?
My baby was born in the heart of flu season…aka: “Don’t touch my baby or even look at my baby season.” I couldn’t have visitors at the hospital because of the flu restrictions. At the time, I thought it was awesome. I did not have to worry about feeling up to having visitors, I just told the truth. In retrospect, I think not having visitors made the four walls at the hospital, close in even quicker. I was so paranoid about the flu and I was very selective about who I let come over to my house following the birth of my son. (sorry not sorry). My anxiety and OCD was really starting to gear up, and not having visitors left me alone with my thoughts. If you know anything about Postpartum OCD, you will know that this is a recipe for disaster. I had to get out of the house; Target and the mall became my sanctuary.
Our local mall had an entire section dedicated to mothers….well, Nursing mothers (which I was not). I utilized this area and even planned my mall walking route around babe’s bottle and predicted diaper changes. I walked around, shopped a little, and then visited the mother’s area to change and feed my baby. It became part of our routine and we both came to enjoy the tiny, nursing closet. The room had a table, a few hooks on the wall, and a stained swivel chair. We spent a significant amount of time here; I felt safe and secluded, yet surrounded by normal human beings. Once I mastered our mall outings, the love affair began.
Thank you for always having what I didn’t know I needed. Thank you for your delicious, one of a kind smell of popcorn, Chesapeake Bay candles, and cotton. Thank you for always tricking me into thinking I am saving money by offering me a 5$ gift card if I promise to spend 4,000$…SCORE! Thank you for making me think I only needed laundry soap and paper towels, but in reality, I needed new sunglasses, a sweater, Hershey Kisses, greeting cards for the next two years, new bed sheets, a pet goat, and stickers from the dollar section. Most importantly, thank you for being a safe haven, thank you for being a place where I felt welcome, normal, and happy.
Thank you for your extensive baby section where I could find whatever I needed, whenever I needed.
Katie and Baby Huck
spent SPEND an ass load of money at Target. I even had a Target employee once call my son “The Target Baby”. Yes, they knew who we were. If your spouse or partner does not support your Target addiction, get a new one. (KIDDING) Seriously, Target helped me feel normal and we both deserved that.
Stick With Me