Newborn Fashion Faux Pas

"Don't worry, the hospital takes care of everything for you." Famous last words.

This is what a good friend told me when I asked what to bring to the hospital for my unborn child. I took that to mean I should pack nothing for him, and just worry about bringing my comfiest sweats, lip balm, mascara, and a hair brush. Oh, and Vogue and Elle and my i-Pad to catch up on my reading. After all, I would just be laying around, right?

I got through labor pretty unscathed, and the first 48 hours of motherhood were easy breezy. Cute baby rolled in, cute baby rolled out, visitors, cute baby rolled in, lunch...you get the point. However, I was then told that there would be no more of the baby being rolled in and out or changed for me, and that I now needed to get gone and take him with me. I mean, I knew it was coming, but it still seemed sudden. 

This is how our departure went to best of my recollection:

My cute baby, EJ, is rolled in by the nurse on duty. I nurse him, kiss him, tear up a little, and then try to give him back to the nurse to be rolled back to the babysitting room.

Nurse: No, it's time for you all to go. You can get out his things and get him dressed.

Me: In what?

Nurse: His clothes.

Me: Long pause.Crickets.I don't have clothes for him. I was told you guys took care of things.

Nurse: Incredulous look.You didn't bring clothes for your son!? I've never heard of such a thing.

Me: More meekly. I was told you guys took care of things?

Nurse: We don't provide clothes for the babies too. That would be ridiculous. 
Busies herself around the room, mumbling about how she's never seen this in twenty years, can you imagine if everyone did this, etc.

Me: Look over at Vogue on the table. Think about fashioning pants and a top for EJ. Realize don't have tape. Getting frustrated and embarrassed. Nurse is still mumbling. Have had enough.  
Okay, I get it, I messed up, but it's not like you're buying the clothes! Can't you help!? 
Solemnly stare at EJ while trying to show I'm not wearing a wedding ring and hoping she can somehow tell my husband cheated and I'm currently in the process of divorcing him. 

Nurse: Sigh. I guess I'll have to go find him something to wear.

Me: Sigh.Thank you. Also, will there be lunch before I go?   
Look down immediately, as this was probably not the best thing to say.

Five minutes later...

Nurse: Heavy sigh.  We had some donated baby clothes in the NICU.  This is what I found.
Shows two onesies...one in size preemie and one that is 9 months.

Me: I guess we have to go with the bigger one.  
I take it; it smells a little like mold or cheese or moldy cheese.  Look on the back and it has NICU812 written on it in permanent marker. Look at poor EJ.  Has no idea he's about to look like a prisoner.  Get him dressed.  Both legs fit through one of the leg holes.  My mother is mortified and won't even look at me. 

Nurse: Are you all ready? And, no, you won't be here long enough for lunch.
My mom, EJ, and I all but run out of the room and never look back. Months later, as I sit to put together EJ's baby photo album, I realize there are multiple pages in the beginning entitled "Home from the Hospital." Oops.  Decide to leave in the model family's pictures and call it a day.  

In his closet, EJ has his prisoner NICU812 onesie perserved for when he's older.  We'll laugh about it one day.