Real Heartache: Unsubscribing to Itzy Ritzy

One of those things that catches you off guard, and you find yourself sobbing at your keyboard over what was, what is, and what now never will be.

When I was pregnant for the first time, I obsessed over what baby gear I wanted, needed, could borrow or buy. I looked at aesthetics and functionality, practicality with personal style and flare. I wanted to be a cool, low profile mom, but being my first baby, a little girl, there were things (like headbands with bows) that just automatically sucked me into splurging.

One of my most favorite things I purchased before B’s arrival was a black Itzy Ritzy backpack diaper bag. It was the epitome of all things I was looking for. It had pockets and zippers, spaces for bottles and changes of clothes, wet bags and pacifier cases and a matching mat for the changing table - everything you could think about needing when leaving the house for more than 10 minutes with a newborn.

Now, it turns out that this wasn’t the only diaper bag I used as a new mom. I alternated it with a much less practical but also less cumbersome tote bag, and juggled it alongside a different type of bag which held my pump, pumping parts, bottles and a cooler. It turns out tiny people need a whole lot of things at their disposal.

Isn’t that obnoxious?

Isn’t that magical?

Let’s leave those questions there for now.

I can’t go into this any further than that, because the tears are already welling up in the corners of my eyes, and I promised myself I’d try not to cry when I wrote this.

Here’s the thing. Until last summer, months into my crippling depression following my spontaneous ectopic pregnancy, I did not get rid of a single thing of B’s that was still in good shape. Our basement had become a collection of bassinet pieces and boppy covers, bins of clothes sorted by size, boxes of books sorted by age - everything, everything we would need when we had another baby.

Coincidentally when that dream started to fade, we had three good friends have little girls. And slowly, we found ourselves packing up lots of the things we’d held onto, sending them to good homes to be filled with new life - just not our new life, just not in our home. Just not with us.

I moved more than I allowed myself to think in that process, focusing on the logistics of what would go to whom and where, and what things, if any, we would keep for special memories. It turns out when your heartbroken you either hold onto everything or let it all go.

For the first time, I leaned in to letting it all go.

I just couldn’t have all of these visual reminders haunting me anymore.

We’ve reclaimed a lot of space in our basement since that time, but there’s still stuff that can go - stuff that can be shared, hand-me-downed or donated. I just don’t have the heart or the strength to look through it right now.

Then, I got caught off guard.

Today I got a promotional email for a sale at Itzy Ritzy, the famous company above I mentioned that I got my first diaper bag from. The diaper bag that is still sitting at the top of my bedroom closet because I just can’t bring myself to part with it.

The email caught my feelings in my throat, and for the first time in a minute, I realized the emotional levity of the situation.

I can no longer receive these emails, because I can no longer dream about becoming a second time mom to another living baby.

I can’t have another living baby.

I can’t have another baby at all.

And without thinking any longer than that, I clicked unsubscribe.

Why it took me this long, I have no idea. I’m guessing because they don’t show up in my inbox that often, and up until two weeks ago, when I still had a uterus, I still had that damn shred of hope that maybe, just maybe, our story would end in the way that I’d imagined, not in the way that I’d been forced to make peace with.

So today I unsubscribed from one of my favorite newborn companies, and in that action I found such unexpected heartache. It was one button. One gesture. The people who work there won’t even notice I left. But for me, leaving was everything. It was closing another window surrounding the all but locked door beside me.

Today, I’m declaring it okay that unsubscribing to this email made my heart ache.

Today, I’m declaring it okay that I’m distraught over never needing a new diaper bag.

Today, whatever I feel is real, and justified, and even if it makes no sense to anyone else, it makes all the sense in the world to me, and thats what matters most.