TINY THINGS
Author's Note: This story features primarily Kurt and Blaine, and takes place during Chapter 15 of It's the Journey; it's rated G (or K). Thank you for reading, and enjoy! Please let me know what you think, or if you have any ideas you would like to see me write in this 'verse. I will respond if possible, so please review!
Blaine was marveling at their beautiful baby girl, who, much like her daddy, loved a dramatic entrance, and decided to make her appearance six weeks early. She was asleep on his chest, and had been for over an hour. He knew that soon Kurt would be there and he'd have to hand her over. Up until today, she'd never been dressed in anything other than a diaper, and swaddled in a blanket. This morning, however, when he arrived she'd been wearing a hospital issued t-shirt as well. It was a promising sign. Only the babies who were stable and doing fairly well wore more than a diaper; clothing for the others would get in the way and waste precious time if an emergency procedure was necessary, time many of them didn't have. For their little girl to be graduated to clothes at only three days old struck him as little short of a miracle. Right now, however, she was down to nothing but her diaper, and Blaine's shirt was unbuttoned, a blanket draped over both of them to keep them warm during kangaroo care.
A few minutes later, he felt a large, soft hand on his shoulder and looked up into his husband's blue eyes, just as Kurt leaned in to kiss him before dropping a kiss on their daughter's head. "How's our little princess today?" Kurt asked him softly.
Blaine smiled. "Perfect. She hasn't incited any riots or reduced any nurses to tears yet."
"She would never do that!" Kurt scolded.
"Well, she is your daughter," Blaine laughed. Kurt smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Careful. Don't wake her up," he admonished.
"You just don't want her to wake up because then it's my turn," Kurt accused him.
"Guilty," Blaine admitted.
Smiling at the gentle exchange she couldn't help but overhear, a young brunette nurse made her way over to the two men from where she had been making notes in a chart a few isolettes away from them. "Mr. and Mr. Hummel-Anderson, there's something I need to talk to you about," she said. At their alarmed expressions, she was quick to reassure them. "It's nothing bad, I promise. As you may have noticed, Ellie had on a shirt today." Kurt glanced at Blaine, who smiled and nodded. "Because she's been doing so well, she'll be wearing clothes except when we bathe her or when you do kangaroo care with her. Now, we can keep putting her in the hospital issued t-shirts, but as you may have noticed, they aren't the nicest or the cutest things around. If you'd like to bring clothes from home for her, you're welcome to do so. You'll be responsible for taking them home and washing them, and I can't guarantee nothing will happen to them, so you shouldn't bring in anything too expensive, or anything of sentimental value. And she's not going anywhere, so comfort is more important than being cute or showy; you should see some of the stuff people bring in: elaborate dresses with frills and ruffles, things with petticoats, even fancy doll clothes sometimes; they're ridiculous and not comfortable for the baby – sometimes they're not even safe. And finally, we need to be able to get whatever it is on and off easily for any necessary procedures and to adjust or change her leads, not to mention for diaper changes. I would suggest t-shirts, onesies, and footed sleepers that snap or zip up the front. Any questions?"
Kurt and Blaine exchanged grins before shaking their heads.
A few moments later Ellie woke up and began to fuss. Kurt held out his arms to take her, his shirt already open. "My turn," he said as a nurse brought a small bottle. Blaine sighed and handed the tiny child over to him. Kurt checked and changed her diaper, something he was much more comfortable with than Blaine was; it wasn't that Blaine wasn't willing, he'd done it with their sons, after all, but she was so small he was afraid he'd hurt her. As he changed her, Kurt brought Blaine back up to speed on their boys, letting him know the latest preschool drama so he'd be prepared when he picked them up that afternoon. The diaper change done, Kurt swaddled Ellie in a blanket and picked up her bottle.
While he fed her, he and Blaine discussed a few more issues, a necessity since they rarely saw much of each other these days, between each of them trying to spend a few hours a day working, splitting spending time in the NICU with Ellie so she'd be alone as little as possible, and trying to make sure the boys didn't feel neglected. Each morning, Blaine would come in to be with Ellie, leaving Kurt to get the boys up and ready for school, and get them there. Kurt would work for a few hours, and then go to the hospital to take over for Blaine, who would pick up the boys, eat lunch with them, and then try to work around them or leave them in the care of their nanny while he worked. They traded off who would be with Ellie in the evenings. On good days they'd both spend a little time together with Ellie before visiting hours ended, after the boys went to bed, while a nanny watched over them. On really good ones, they'd manage a meal together. Tonight, it was Blaine's night to be with their daughter.
"Baby," Kurt began.
"Hmmm?" Blaine replied, distracted as he tried to find his wallet and the other items from his pockets, which he'd emptied so nothing could poke Ellie.
"Would you mind picking some clothes out for Ellie and bringing them when you come back tonight?"
"Sure, no problem. Did you have anything in particular in mind?"
"No, just the stuff the nurse mentioned: onesies, t-shirts, sleepers, that kind of thing. Just remember, the smaller the better; don't grab any of the three to six month stuff."
"Okay. I'm sure there's something that'll work in all the stuff my family sent."
Kurt snorted. "You think?"
"Hey, she's the first girl born into the Anderson family in more than six generations. They got a little excited."
"A little?"
"Okay, maybe a lot. The point is, I'm sure there's stuff that'll work. Besides, your family sent stuff too."
"My family sent Sam's hand-me-downs, and Quinn only did that because I sent her so much of the boys' stuff she ran out of room."
"It's still stuff. And I'll look through it. I've got to go now or I'll be late picking up the boys. I love you," he said, leaning down to kiss Kurt tenderly, and then kissing Ellie's forehead, he whispered, "I love you too, Baby Girl." Ellie cast an annoyed look at both of her fathers, sucking intently on her bottle to get the last bit of milk.
Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand with his free one. "I love you, too."
Blaine picked up his twin sons from preschool, oohing and ahhing over the letters they had traced and glued various materials to: glitter covered G's, popcorn covered P's, and button covered B's. The boys told them all about the words they had talked about in circle time, the songs they had sung, the things they had counted, and the pictures they had drawn. After telling him about the day's work, they told him about the games they had played at recess.
As they neared a small diner, Blaine said, "Guess what? Daddy and I got some really great news today, so what would you think of going to the diner and celebrating for lunch?" He knew the boys loved the food there, but Kurt never liked it because it wasn't exactly the healthiest place.
"Yeah!" Ian enthused.
"Can we get French fries?" Patrick wanted to know.
"And milkshakes!" Ian prompted.
"Sure!" Blaine knew he'd probably get in trouble if Kurt thought to ask him what they'd had for lunch, so he just sent up a prayer that Kurt would be too distracted to think about what he and the boys might have eaten for lunch. Besides, a burger and fries every once in a while wouldn't kill them.
They sat down and Blaine ordered three hamburgers, three orders of fries, and three milkshakes, two chocolate and one vanilla. "So, do you want to hear the good news?"
The boys shrugged. They both figured if it actually had anything to do with them, Papa would have told them already. Since it didn't have something to do with them, the only important thing was really that instead of going home and having leftover chicken, rice and vegetables, or maybe a turkey sandwich, they got to have burgers, fries and milkshakes.
"Your sister got to wear clothes for the first time today!"
They boys exchanged a look, before looking back to their father. "Everyone wears clothes," Patrick said, obviously unimpressed.
"Even if they don't want to," Ian added, clearly still not happy about Kurt's stance on semi-public nudity. He more or less understood why he had to wear clothes when out of the house, but in the house, he felt he shouldn't have to do so unless he wanted, while his Daddy insisted that outside of his own room or bathroom, he had to have on at least a minimal amount of clothing.
"Well, babies aren't born with clothes, and very tiny babies or babies who are early or sick don't wear clothes. Because your sister was so little and so early she didn't get to wear clothes for the first couple of days, but now she gets to wear them."
"O-kay," Patrick said, clearly still mystified as to why this excited his Papa so much.
"Yeah, food!" Ian exclaimed, quickly forgetting all about the little sister he'd never seen in person in favor of a (semi) greasy burger, a pile of fries, and a chocolate shake with whipped cream and sprinkles.
After lunch, Blaine took the boys home, read them a story and put them down for naps. Then he went to the nursery, and began to go through the clothes neatly put away in the dresser. He smiled, remembering the time he freaked out over how tiny the newborn clothes were before they had the boys; he'd been convinced they could never take care of something so small and helpless. Now they boys were thriving and he had a daughter who was even smaller, and needed clothes. Because the boys had been a little small at birth, they had spent a bit more time than most babies in newborn and zero to three month clothes, which had seemed impossibly tiny to Blaine before their births. Now, however, he looked over the newborn clothes with a frown. Some brands ran smaller than others, and he tried to pick those out, but even those seemed as if they would be too big. The sizes that had seemed so small before the boys were born now looked ridiculously large. Sighing, he picked out the four smallest things he could find and tucked them into a small bag to take with him when he returned to the hospital that evening.
Blaine spent the rest of the time before the boys woke up reviewing designs and plans from the costume and set designers for his new show, approving some, rejecting others, and making comments and notes about possible changes to a third set. Once the boys awoke, they went to the park. When they returned, Blaine turned the boys over to Katie, the nanny who cared for them in the afternoons and evenings when Kurt and Blaine were working or otherwise busy, and made his way to the hospital.
"Hey, Sweetheart. You're early. Are you trying to steal my angel before it's your turn?" Kurt said.
Blaine glanced down at his daughter in time to see what looked like a little smile on her sleeping face. It lasted only a moment before it was gone. "No, but we might have a problem."
"Hmm. What's that?" Kurt asked, distracted by the faces his slumbering daughter was making.
"Look," Blaine replied, holding up the clothes he had brought.
Kurt saw the problem immediately. "Those are going to swallow her. They're huge. Why did you pick those?"
"They're all newborn size, and they're the smallest of the bunch," Blaine defended his choices. "I'm not sure what to do."
"Preemie clothes," said a voice from across the room. Looking up, the two men saw an older nurse approaching them. "They make special clothes for premature babies."
"Where would we even find them?" Kurt asked. "Do you have to special order them?"
The man smiled at them. "Most well stocked baby stores carry them now. Between improvements in fertility treatments and improvements in treating premature and sick babies, a lot more premature babies are born, and a lot more tiny babies survive, thrive even. But regular baby clothes are too big for them. More than a few savvy clothing manufacturers saw a need and filled it, making a tidy profit in the process. A lot of our parents already have them before their babies are born, but they have reason to expect their children will be early or very small for some reason. You didn't have any reason to expect that, so it doesn't surprise me that you haven't done much research on preemies or their clothing requirements. Just go to your favorite baby store and ask. Some have departments with preemie clothes, others have them mixed in with the other sizes."
Kurt and Blaine shared a look. "I'll go," Kurt announced. Blaine wasn't surprised. Purchasing the kids' clothes was a task that usually fell to Kurt. Blaine helped, and occasionally found something he loved and insisted on buying, usually something that caused Kurt to roll his eyes, but it was mostly Kurt's job. Blaine contributed common sense, reminding him before each trip to buy their clothes that the boys were not runway models, and neither had any desire to dress like one. Despite their Daddy's chosen field, both boys took after their Papa, preferring to be comfortable. They grudgingly dressed up for family pictures and the few formal events they attended, but preferred to stick to casual, comfortable clothing, or no clothing, whenever possible.
"Remember, Babe, comfortable. She doesn't need to dress up in the NICU, even if she's your daughter."
"I know," Kurt said, wishing he had an excuse to buy at least one fancy dress, but knowing he didn't.
The two men talked quietly for a time, and then consulted the nurse who told them about preemie clothes to get an idea how long he thought Ellie might need them. It would help Kurt decide how many things to buy, and if they should all be for cold weather or not. Finally, Ellie screwed up her face and grunted, then began to fuss. Kurt stood up, still supporting her against his body as the blanket fell. Stepping over it, he changed her diaper, then handed her to Blaine.
"Stay with Papa, Little One. Daddy has to go find you some more suitable clothes."
"It wasn't my fault," Blaine protested.
"I know," Kurt smiled.
"Comfortable, easy to put on and take off," Blaine reminded.
"I know," Kurt said.
Leaving, he called home and spoke to the nanny, and then asked her to put him on speaker. "Boys, Daddy has to run an errand on the way home, so I'm just going to order a pizza for dinner tonight."
"Just cheese, no funny stuff on it," Ian said.
"Ian, Honey, vegetables on pizza aren't funny."
"Yes, they are," Patrick spoke up, backing his brother up.
Kurt sighed. "Okay, fine, I'll order half cheese, but I'm getting salad too, and you have to eat some."
"Okay," both boys reluctantly agreed.
After their father hung up, Ian looked at Patrick. "I wish we had a dog like Avery from school. She just feeds stuff she doesn't like to him."
"It wouldn't work," Patrick sighed. "'Member, she said it won't eat vegetables and most fruit."
"So it wouldn't eat salad?"
"I don't think so."
Blissfully unaware of his sons' schemes to avoid vegetables, Kurt went directly from the hospital to his favorite baby store, an upscale boutique not far from their home.
"Mr. Hummel-Anderson! It's been so long!" The clerk, an attractive middle-aged woman, greeted him. "I thought your boys had outgrown us. Getting a gift for a friend?"
"No," he smiled at her. "We have a little girl now."
"Really? Congratulations! When is she due?" Obviously, she had missed the implication that their daughter had already been born.
Kurt's face clouded slightly. "Well, she was due in a little under six weeks, but she came early."
"That explains why I didn't see you before she came," the clerk said, confident that Kurt would have been shopping prior to his child's birth, barring unforeseen circumstances.
"Well, that and the fact that we have all the boys' things, and our families, especially Blaine's, were very excited about her impending arrival, and they sent us far more than we need. We really don't need anything."
At the clerk's puzzled expression, he continued, "Well, except for clothes. We were given a ton of clothes, but the smallest are newborn size, and they're too big for her. I need to buy preemie clothes."
The clerk's expression darkened a bit. "We don't have much in the way of preemie clothes. We might have a few things. Let me look."
Kurt trailed behind her as she made her way to the section of the store where the clothes were displayed. Flipping through the racks, she muttered to herself. "Nothing here, nothing here, I know they don't have preemie clothes, nothing there, maybe this one. . . no, that doesn't come that small . . ."
Kurt was beginning to give up hope as she leafed through the clothes on the final rack when she triumphantly exclaimed, "Aha, got something!"
He looked up, only to have his heart sink when he saw what she was holding: A fluffy red and white confection of a dress, with so many petticoats that the skirt stood almost straight out. "She's still in the hospital. They want her to have comfortable clothes that are easy to take on and off, things like sleepers and onesies." The desire to buy fancy clothes had melted away along with his patience as his frustration grew.
"But, what about Christmas pictures?" The clerk wanted to know.
"We'll send out the pictures we took right after she was born if she's not home by then, and if she is, maybe I'll come get that, but for now, it's not what we need."
"Well, it's all we have," the clerk told him with an air of finality.
"I'll just have to go somewhere else then," Kurt told her, heading for the door. The clerk gaped after him, apparently unaccustomed to not getting a sale, especially from her usual well-to-do clientele.
Three boutiques later Kurt was getting very frustrated. If he didn't find something soon the nanny would be signing for the pizza, the boys wouldn't eat salad, and he'd be facing leftover pizza for dinner. In despair, he finally went into the enormous baby superstore several blocks from his apartment.
The huge box store, which advertised deeply discounted prices and carried everything one could possibly need for a baby, from most of the major brands, had never been Kurt's first choice. Blaine didn't mind it as much, and at times Kurt couldn't really avoid it, but he never liked it. First of all, he preferred higher end and designer brands, although he finally did admit that the major mass market brands worked fine for play clothes. But the second thing he hated about the store was its sheer size. While it had everything, the store was so large it was difficult to even determine which way to go to get to whatever it was that you needed to buy.
As he stared at the signs hanging from the high, warehouse type ceiling, trying in vain to find which way to go to find clothing, he was approached by a young man, who couldn't have been out of his teens, in a uniform. "Can I help you, sir?"
"I need to find preemie clothes. Do you carry them?"
"Um, it's not my department, but I think so. They'd be with the other clothes."
"Which are where?"
"Oh, that I can help you with. Middle of the store, straight back behind the furniture," the young man instructed, happy to have been able to help.
Kurt wound his way through several model nurseries set up with cheap pre-fab press board and veneer furniture before finding himself suddenly surrounded by racks and racks of clothes, in almost any mass market national brand one could want (or not want, he thought), as well as the store's house brand, in sizes designed for newborns through toddlers. Feeling crunched for time, he stared at the huge selection in dismay, not sure where to begin.
"Looking for anything in particular?" Kurt looked to the side, to see a petite brunette woman in her early twenties, dressed similarly to the young man, in cheap khakis, a chambray shirt, a smock, and sneakers. The look was a far cry from the well-dressed women who staffed his favorite boutiques, but she was friendly and seemed willing to help.
"My daughter was born early, six weeks early, a few days ago. She's still in the hospital, and-"
"And you need preemie clothes," the young woman stated matter-of-factly. "It's a good sign that they asked you to bring in clothes at this point. She'll be home before you know it."
"Wow. You know a lot about it. That's what they said at the hospital. Do you have, I mean, did you have a premature baby?" Kurt was astounded at how knowledgeable and helpful she was.
"Nope, but I've worked here for three years. It's a job, and it pays more than the work-study jobs on campus. Not a lot, but every bit helps. I've seen a lot of people who've had preemies come through here."
"Oh. That makes sense," Kurt said.
"Follow me. I'll get you set up."
Kurt obediently followed the young woman, whose name tag read "AMY."
"She's still in the hospital, so they want stuff that's comfortable and easy on-easy off, right?"
"Yes, that's exactly right."
"Okay, here we go," said, as she began handing things to Kurt. "Let's get you about a dozen onesies, several sleepers, a few t-shirts, not too many because it's nearly winter, she'll be living in mostly sleepers."
Once Kurt's arms were full of practical clothes that looked like they'd fit a small doll, the helpful clerk gave him directions to the registers at the front of the store.
A few minutes later Kurt was on his way home, reaching it just in time to sign for the pizza and sit the boys down at the table with salads and scowling faces as they looked longingly at the pizza on the counter. As they boys ate, Kurt and the nanny removed the tags from the clothes and threw them into the washer, then sat down to eat their own meals. After dinner they dried them while putting the boys to bed. As soon as stories were read and goodnight kisses given, the boys were tucked in, a lullaby was sung, and the nanny was in charge again as Kurt rushed to the hospital.
In the NICU, Kurt took over kangaroo care as soon as he could convince Blaine to relinquish Ellie, while Blaine eyed Kurt's purchases. A smiling nurse brought over a rectangular plastic storage tub with a lid, labeled with Ellie's name, in which to store her new clothes. As he transferred them from Kurt's bag to the tub, he looked at them in amazement. "I've never even seen clothes this little."
"Mmm," Kurt murmured in agreement. "They look like doll clothes. I remember when I was little, I had several friends who were girls; not so many guys, shocking as that might be." Blaine laughed a little. From their many discussions over the years he knew he'd always had an easier time fitting in with other boys than Kurt had. "Anyway, I never had dolls, but they did. These look like doll clothes. For a small doll."
"She is our little doll, isn't she?" Blaine commented. Ellie opened her eyes and drew her eyebrows together and down, seeming to disapprove of her Papa's comment.
Sensing the infant's annoyance, Kurt tried to shift her to another position. "I just hope they aren't too small. If newborn stuff is too big and they're too small, I'm not sure what to do."
"I bet they'll work," his husband reassured him.
The men continued to chat quietly until it was time for Ellie to eat, a few minutes before the end of visiting hours. Kurt fed Ellie, keeping up a quiet conversation with her as she stared at him intently and drank her bottle. When it was done, a nurse came over and said, "Ellie, time to say goodnight to Daddy and Papa." The tiny baby glared at the nurse. Addressing Kurt and Blaine, the nurse said, "We should dress her for the night. Would one of you like to do the honors?"
They exchanged a glance, and without a word, Kurt stood and walked toward the isolette, cradling his daughter. "Babe, can you find me a sleeper?"
Blaine dug through the tub, finding a pink sleeper printed with little white cats curled up sleeping. He handed it to Kurt. Kurt put it on her. It fit almost perfectly, with just a bit of room for her to grow. He and Blaine both kissed her goodnight before laying her in her isolette and relinquishing her to the care of the NICU staff for the night.
As they quietly made their way home, Blaine said wonderingly, "Those clothes are just so tiny. She's so tiny."
"She is. But then again, in my life, a lot of the best things have come in tiny packages," Kurt agreed, standing on his tiptoes so he could kiss the top of his husband's head.
"Hey!" Blaine protested, swatting at his laughing husband.
End notes: My daughters spent twenty-nine days in the NICU, and my favorite two nurses were both men, hence the male nurse telling the boys about preemie clothes. This story is for Chris and Jason, who not only were great NICU nurses, surviving and thriving in a field and a specialty dominated by women, but managed to survive my daughters and their crazy mother (me). Please review and let me know what you think!