“You’re doing just fine. Let’s go in and see what they have.”
The store was larger than it looked from the outside. There was plenty of light, lots of mirrors and racks of clothes set up by type. In the back, an archway led into a massive separate store that sold everything baby. Pia caught sight of a stroller and crib before carefully averting her eyes. She was here to shop for her friend, not freak herself out. Later, when she could sit down, she would think about all the equipment babies apparently required and try not to hyperventilate. And maybe she would take Denise Hendrix up on her offer to explain what exactly the mother of a triplet needed three of and what she could avoid buying in bulk.
“Hi, ladies,” a salesclerk called. “How are you doing?”
“Great,” Charity said. “I’m browsing first.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
Pia wandered toward the dress racks. Maybe dresses would be easier, as they would give her more breathing room—so to speak. But as it got colder, she preferred pants or nice jeans. Plus, did she really want to deal with maternity tights or nylons?
She crossed over to the jeans and grimaced when she saw a very unattractive elastic kind of band thing stuck in front. Was that what she had to look forward to?
“Look at this,” Charity said, pointing to a mannequin. “It’s a tummy sleeve.” She leaned in and read the sign. “Oh, this is great. It helps with transition. When you’re too big for your regular pants but maternity ones are too big for you. It covers the open zipper.” She grinned. “I wish I’d thought of that. You should get one.”
What Pia should get is out of the store. She wasn’t ready for any of this. Not yet. She was barely pregnant and she still hadn’t accepted she was having one baby, let alone three.
She watched Charity collect several items of clothing, then waited while her friend tried them on.
“You look adorable in everything,” Pia told her.
It was the truth. Charity genuinely glowed. She was pleasantly rounded, blissfully happy and excited about being a mother. Pia felt like a crabby fraud.
“You don’t want to pick out anything?” Charity asked as she paid for her clothing.
Pia shook her head. “I’m not ready.”
“I would guess with triplets, you’re going to have to get ready soon. Is this where I ask you to come with me next door to look at furniture and you refuse?”
“I’ll look.”
Maybe poking around in a baby store would help. If nothing else, she could look for a book on multiple births. The books she had at home only had a chapter or two on multiples.
They walked through to the baby store. There were cribs and changing tables, mobiles and teddy bear lamps.
“Come see,” Charity told her, pointing to the left. “There’s a bedroom set I really love. But it’s pretty girly and if we have a boy, I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”
Pia followed her friend to a display done in pale wood. The small nightstand, crib, dresser and changing table were all carved with fairies and angels, the edges scalloped. Pink-and-gold drawer pulls sparkled with a touch of glitter.
“Too girly doesn’t describe it,” Pia said with a grin. “I think it’s great, but you need to make sure you’re having a girl before you get this.”
“It’s too over the top for a boy?”
“It will give Josh a heart attack, and that’s the last thing you want.”
“I know.” Charity sighed. “I had planned not to know the sex of the baby until the birth. I thought that would be fun. I’ve always been such a planner. This seemed like the ultimate in letting go.”
“Then you’re going to have to let go on the furniture selection,” Pia told her. “This is a whole new dimension of girly.”
“You’re right,” Charity said, sounding reluctant. “What are you going to do?”
Pia turned to her. “About what?”
“Knowing the gender of the babies.”
“I haven’t really thought about it.”
“From what I know about IVF, you’re going to have fraternal rather than identical triplets,” Charity said. “Three embryos mean they fertilized three different eggs. That could make things interesting. Does Raoul want to know?”
They hadn’t talked about it, Pia realized. In fact they hadn’t talked much about the babies at all. She didn’t know anything about his thoughts on children, except he wanted them. What were his hopes and dreams for these babies? Did he spank or prefer time-outs? Would he want to know if they were having boys or girls?
She put her hand on the dresser to steady herself. There was more. They hadn’t talked about financials or their goals for their lives. She didn’t know what religion he was, if he opened his presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. They hadn’t even discussed which way to load a dishwasher.